A little knowledge is a sad thing

Echo's abdomen is suddenly swollen, and when Bill brought it to my attention last night, my first thought was "spleen." We looked at dog anatomy on the internet--everything is so packed in together, it's hard for amateurs to discern between liver, kidneys and spleen. Bill went online last night and started researching dog medical issues. The news is not good.

There's not much we can do for Echo. The vet can do an ultrasound, or surgery to remove the spleen (which is also exploratory for other issues such as liver and kidney), but the bottom line is that Echo has all the symptoms of a spleen tumor, and 75% of those in older, large-breed dogs are malignant. Even if it's not cancerous, the surgery itself is extremely dangerous and the long-term prognosis is that you can extend the animal's life by only a short time. Most dogs in this situation die suddenly from an internal bleed (this is what we are pretty sure happened to our first dog, Loki.), or slowly because of mini-hemorrhages from the tumor. Performing surgery just hastens the process, costs a ton of $, and gives the dog more discomfort.

In the meantime, poor Echo is just as sweet as can be, but getting weaker. She's not eating or drinking much (pressure in the stomach squeezes the other internal organs), and last night, she couldn't make it up the final six steps to the loft--her back legs slumped on the landing, then she turned around and went back down.

Bill and I had a little cry, and went to bed. This morning, Bill went down to the pond with a shovel to pick out a spot for her final resting place. We're determined to support her as long as she appears reasonably comfortable, but we're coming to the realization that the end is probably coming soon. We've pretty much given up the idea that she's going to recover. We love our loyal companion, so we will try our best to do right by her.