|The vet called me at work at 11.30 this morning. She always sounds chirpy, whatever news she’s delivering. The news from the pathology lab quickly detuned me from her delivery. Grade 3 soft tissue sarcoma … histiocytic (that’s like evil icing on the bad news cake). I’m scrawling diagnoses, names of tests, costs, and treatment approaches on post-it notes that bleed across my desk. I can’t leave for another ninety minutes |
The next step is to do a staging – work out via X-ray, ultrasound and blood test if and where it has spread to. A subsequent lumpectomy demands 3 cm of clearance around the horrible swollen mess, with two planes of tissue to be taken out - fatty (easy) and muscular (difficult) – and because it’s sitting near his knee there’s not much room to move, so some level of amputation may be necessary.
We’re booked into SASH in North Ryde on Monday morning to start these tests.
I don’t know how ready I am for this. Since the phone call some seven hours ago, I’ve been with Munson, walking, moving, trying to outpace the dam of tears behind my eyes. But he’s in no obvious discomfort, and is less fixated on licking the site than he was two days ago.
Summer is coming, and Munson has to be fit and ready for the beach again.