Survivors
Albion
Karen and Adrian Lakin
Albion was our perfect dog, who was going to live forever. When she started limping and had a little bit of swelling around her right wrist, we ice packed it for a couple of days. It didn't get better, so we took her to our regular veterinarian. Thank goodness he had the foresight to take x-rays right then and there. It was bone cancer. We just couldn't believe what we were hearing, and we were not ready to accept that she was not going to be around very long. Our vet referred us to the CSU Animal Cancer Center. We had an appointment two days later. That's where the journey began.
We didn't know anything about treating cancer; dog cancer or human cancer. Nobody in our immediate family has had cancer, so we were pretty much in the dark about all of it. After Dr. Withrow started explaining treatment options for Albion, it was easier for us to understand what it was all about. The more common treatment for a lot of dogs with bone cancer is amputation. However, since Albion had had two knee surgeries in the past, and her back legs were not 100%, we were concerned about how she would handle a front leg amputation. We thought the limb-sparing surgery would be a better option for her. Two days later, she had the surgery.
She did amazing. She just came through surgery with flying colors, and she came home the next day and she was walking. We decided to do chemotherapy to try and control the cancer if we could. Our decisions were totally based on how we thought she would handle it, and how she did handle things. She kept beating the odds. She just kept going and kept fighting, so we just kept fighting right along with her.
It was always comforting to go to the CSU Animal Cancer Center for her cancer treatments. We got to talk to people who really knew what we were going through. It makes a huge difference to know that you're not alone. And even with so many other patients there, we still felt like we were really important. The students and staff were always really familiar with her case, and everybody was interested in what was going on with her. And Albion loved going to CSU. That was our top priority. Anytime she showed signs of having a bad reaction to any of the treatments, we would stop. It was all about the quality of her life, and she had a really good quality of life.
When Albion was first diagnosed with cancer, I was referred to an online support group for people whose dogs have bone cancer. What an amazing group I found. We received a lot of support from that, as well as suggestions about diet and things like that. We changed Albion's diet to a homemade diet, which we think really contributed to her doing so well for so long. Cancer's not a death sentence anymore. There's always something you can do, even if it's just a minor thing like changing the diet. It's doing the best that you can for your dog, that's the most important thing. You can make a big difference. Our motto came from a friend from the support group: "It is what it is and you do all you can do. Never give up. Never give in. You just have to believe."
Albion survived cancer for 3 years and 3 months and was cancer free just over two of those years. She completely beat the odds we were given originally. The experience has changed us. It's opened our eyes to paying more attention to the little things. We took her out to do things that she enjoyed, even if it was just going for a car ride or a short walk. Even if it was just lying out in the backyard in the sun, which was one of her all time favorite things to do. It also taught us that we need to pay attention to our own quality of life; to appreciate every day and not take things for granted, to just go and sit outside on a warm day.
Happer
Matt and Darci Mangelsen
Every morning, as soon as the car keys are in hand, Happer turns into a puppy again. Out the front door he goes to check his mark on the mailbox. Hap then jumps, without hesitation, into the truck. He still makes it look easy.
Happer is a yellow lab who has been with me day and night, for nearly thirteen years. He was with me through high school, through my first pheasant hunt, and was even the ring bearer at our wedding… I can’t begin to describe how rich my memories are with him. He still comes to work with me every day, sleeps beside my bed at night, and rides right behind me in the truck.
In late May, we were at our cabin. I let Happer out and noticed he was shaking and stumbling around the yard. After about half an hour, he fell over. I knew something was wrong. I brought him inside the cabin, held him a little while, and tried to comfort him. I offered him some food, he ate, and seemed to be much better. I let him relax inside for the rest of the day. Later that evening I let him outside and it happened again. I knew this was serious.
I took Happer to see his vet. He was examined, had blood tests done; the whole works. The doctors told me their worst fears, which were hard to hear. An ultrasound found that Happer had some type of mass. It was startling to find out it needed to be removed, and that Hap’s doctor didn’t feel comfortable enough to do the surgery.
My Uncle Tom from Wyoming called to see how I was doing. He said, “Matt, I would really like to see you go to CSU. CSU is the number one cancer center in the world for dogs, and I have a great friend there. She helped Loup a few months ago when he became ill. One phone call and they’ll take care of all Happer’s needs.” I made the call immediately. I didn’t know if what Tom said about the CSU Animal Cancer Center is statistically true, but I believed him. I knew what Hap’s brother Loup had gone through at CSU and I am now a complete advocate of CSU because of what they’ve done for Happer. I don’t need any more proof than that.
Tom put me in touch with Dr. Christine Hardy, a vet who manages the business operations at the Animal Cancer Center. I can’t begin to describe how helpful she has been. She didn’t want me to panic but said I needed to move on this. So, my wife, my brother, Happer and I drove the 500 miles to Fort Collins, Colorado. Happer was in surgery the next morning. To be honest, it was all a little nerve-racking.
After surgery, Dr. Worley, the surgeon described to me what she found, and that she was able to remove most of it. She said I was welcome to come see Happer but warned it was going to be hard. She said he would seem groggy and his eyes would be droopy. Uncle Tom said the same thing. And it was hard. His eyes were droopy and he was sitting there in the cage. When we came back the next day, he was totally different. He was alert and excited to see me.
Because he was recovering from a pancreatic tumor, he was in the hospital for ten days. They called me numerous times a day about Happer, which was very comforting. They even set up a little pen with pads in CCU for him. He loved it. He would sit there with the students and soak up the attention. All the doctors and students adored him. When he was ready, we drove to Colorado to pick him up. With many thanks to the doctors, we haven’t looked back since.
Happer is continuing to do very well. We have learned to enjoy and love all the times and memories we have with him. As Thanksgiving 2008 approached, we made a quick trip out to the cabin to go goose hunting. There was no holding Happer back. He was shaking, but this time, with excitement! At the sound of the gun and the falling of the bird, he plunged into the frigid water, without hesitation. He was a puppy again. It was one of Happer's biggest retrieves, and he carried it back with strength and pride. We were very successful that day; however, it wasn’t about the geese. It was so much more than that. I got to see Happer do what he loves most.
Happer still goes fishing and hunting and continues to be a part of our family. On January 20, 2009 Happer became the proud father of nine yellow boys and two yellow girls. I just can’t say enough about the CSU Animal Cancer Center, and the people there. Their level of care is phenomenal.
To read more stories of hope and inspiration from CSU’s Animal Cancer Center, visit http://www.csuanimalcancercenter.org/featured-stories.
Winchester
The Mitchell Family
A breast cancer diagnosis is often referred to as a journey. It opened up whole new worlds to me, starting in the autumn of 2004. I had never heard of lobular breast cancer, which does not show up on mammograms, and was shocked to learn I was already at stage III. I immediately embarked on the adventure of six rounds of chemotherapy, a mastectomy, and radiation. Along the way, side trips included: choosing and wearing a wig, unending lab tests, wading through masses of insurance bills while under the influence of chemo, marveling at the people who invented the MRI, getting to know my pharmacist, and memorizing the picture of a garden on the ceiling of the radiation room at the Rocky Mountain Cancer Center in Littleton. I learned more about the human body than I ever imagined. I also realized that I had chosen the right man to marry, Gary Mitchell. My employers at Columbine Showroom in the Design Center were kind, understanding people who let me go to part-time, working when I could. I spent many long days on the living room sofa, my cat curled up next to me, and my Springer Spaniel, Winchester, watching over me and listening attentively to all my complaints.
Winchester came to us in September, 2001, right before 9/11, from ESRR, a rescue group. He had been a trained hunter, but when he came to our house, he retired to hunt only the cat and backyard squirrels. An excellent protector of the house, he was also the arbiter of the proper time to walk to the mailbox and when one really must get off the sofa and get some exercise. He encouraged me to keep up a daily routine when I thought I had no energy to do so, and he stayed near me when I probably smelled funny from chemo. Winchester accompanied me on the journey partly because it was his duty as a Good Dog, but also because of the human/dog bond that is beyond love.
Given our recent history, it was with dismay that we learned that Winchester had a large mass in his abdomen and malignant tumors between several toes on his right front paw. While this was emotionally traumatic, somehow we marched forward together. We were referred to Dr. Robin Elmslie, oncologist at Veterinary Cancer Specialists at VRCC. Winchester went through many of the same tests I had (why was his ultrasound so much less expensive than mine?). The toe tumors were surgically removed, and he returned to our regular vet, Lone Tree Veterinary Medical Center, for surgery on the mass, which turned out to be a large benign hematoma. Once again, Winchester and I spent days together recuperating, but the roles were reversed. I hope I did as good a job for him as he did for me (and he never complained!).
As part of my ongoing recovery from cancer, I became a volunteer for English Springer Rescue America. In time, we fostered a beautiful female Springer who looks just like Winchester. We all fell in love, and Becky is now a permanent member of our family.
Four years out from cancer, Winchester and I go for walks every day. Since he is fourteen years old now, the pace is a little slower. The important thing is, we are on the trail together.