Yesterday my sweet almost-nine year old pup had a Mast Cell Tumor removed. Mast Cells, for all intents and purposes, are somewhere between benign and aggressive. We won’t know for sure what hers is until the results come back from the lab, but her tumor is considered to be a 2 on a scale of 1 to 4. The tumor was seemingly small, but in order to ensure clean edges, our awesome vet had to cut deep and wide. The incision covers the length of her thigh, and it’s ugly, and jagged, and raw looking. She had a dose of an anti-inflammatory this morning, but at 4:45 pm I can tell that the pain relief is starting to wear off. She’s restless, and anxious, and attempting to lick her wound, despite the E-Collar. I feel so much empathy for her and the pain she is in, but I also feel a rush of relief that we caught it, and that it has been removed.
Mast Cells are cancerous. My dog has cancer. I am scared for her, and myself, and yet I also feel a sense of calmness and positivity that we’re going to walk through this unscathed. Yesterday she had the cancer removed. In ten days we go back to the vet for a follow-up check-up. Wish us well, and maybe a little bit of luck.