What's going on with D'Argo, and how you might help
I'm putting this here so I only really have to explain once, and just leave shorter posts with the link here elsewhere.
Boxer with Blur - D'Argo and baby Meissa, 2005
At least three years ago (I think - I don't have a mental timestamp for it), I noticed an egg-sized lump in D'Argo's throat. It slid up and down under the skin pretty freely; despite this, Dr. Marmesh was disinclined to try to operate, due to the number of vital structures in the throat. He does surgeries, but he's not a surgical specialist. It seemed innocuous at the time, so I didn't press the point. Finding a surgeon would, just like for humans, be unholy expensive, and if it wasn't being a problem, it seemed an unnecessary risk.
Fast-forward to about a month ago. The tumour, while never doing anything blatantly alarming, had kept growing and was now about the size of a grapefruit (or an ostrich egg instead of a chicken egg, if you want to keep that imagery). D'Argo had started coughing persistently in a way which he's done when he's had worms, but this time Marmesh said that the tumour was finally impacting his trachea, esophagus and larynx. A few days after that vet visit, D'Argo went effectively mute. He also stopped being interested in kibble, even well-soaked, because whatever it was was going to have to squeeze by that godawful lump.
It was going to have to come out. Here's the tricky part - I've been unemployed since May of 2008, due to a ripple effect of our atrocious state of economy. My unemployment benefits have a very short time left to run; my food stamp benefits will be revisited in February. Due to my mother drinking her house equity loan that she got for a hysterectomy not covered by the insurance she'd been paying for for decades (that's another rant), there's an imminent threat of foreclosure and subsequent eviction from this house that I grew up in. How was I going to get the care my dog needed so urgently?
The second surgical hospital I spoke to suggested checking IMOM.org - We are dedicated to insure that no companion animal has to be euthanized simply because their caretaker is financially challenged. As a requirement for requesting their help, applicants must apply to CareCredit, which provides via GE interest-charged funding for veterinary as well as human medical needs.
By some small miracle, after talking to a nearly random person in Second Life (we're both members of/trainers at the Virtual Kennel Club) and finding out we're 'related' via a household in the Society for Creative Anachronism, not only did she offer to help pay something towards D'Argo's consultation, but I was also given the amount of funding I asked for - with virtually no income, and various dings on my credit history. But see, I already had the beginnings of help, from Rachel.
The state with help from the federal government is paying for my getting some training for certifications in I.T. I had to excuse myself from class after talking to the The Small Animal Hospital at the University of Florida Veterinary Medical Center. I had contacted their PR person and left a message on another extension there about getting help. The medical services linked to the University of Florida, from everything I've heard, are nearly legendary in scope. Shands is supposed to be one of the best hospitals in the whole SE'rn U.S., if not the whole nation. The vet hospital, while not having quite as efficiently terse a name, has the same reputation for advanced and cutting-edge medical techniques - and I can find Gainesville in my sleep.
Considering I got the call about a shoehorned in appointment with Oncology on Wednesday afternoon, I was going to have to find Gainesville in my sleep. It was a drop-everything moment. I cleared out the car hastily (it was mostly just Diet Pepsi cans, honest; fluffy junk), packed a change of clothes for me, two days' food for the puppies, confirmed the weather and got out of Dodge around midnight. It was a rough drive up - I'd only had about four hours of sleep the night before due to a lack of adaptation to my class schedule yet. With two stops for lion-naps (much larger than cats), though, I made it into the hospital car park a little after dawn, although we had to wait until 09:45.
Abbe, who is a medical student or intern there, did the initial interview, then brought in Dr. Roger Bacon (formerly of London, and yes he has retained his accent) to discuss things. He didn't think it looked good - although it hadn't seemed to have metastasized, a tumour like this was certainly malignant inherently, and usually became involved into the throat structures, nerves and possibly the lungs. They were going to have to do tests, and the tests were going to take all day. The puppies and I were on our own until at least 4 PM. We tried one dog park (closed to non-members, or at least people without $15 dollars entrance fee for the day), were directed to another, met a GORGEOUS tricolour Pemmie boypuppy in the PetsMart car park on the way; Annie was not cooperative, but the corgwn had a grand time sniffing around the park and playing with the only other dog, another youngster who looked like a miniature German Shepherd of a sort. I wandered back and forth around Gainesville, looking for new harnesses for all the dogs in hopes of getting something they wouldn't break instantly, and for old landmarks. Most of the landmarks aren't. Alas.
I also forgot I hadn't slept, but eventually wandered back to the hospital car park, zonked out for another hour or so, and watched the Christmas party caterers work on their cooking-rough feast. I even got some leftover smoked turkey from them - they have a big mobile smoker on a trailer, and were cooking over portable gas fires. Made me nostalgic for feast-cratting, although they had modern conveniences like sheet cake four-to-a-case, and stuffing mix. Something about me wandering away from the car snapped Annie's nerves, and she made enough of a mess in the car to add to the stress, but not be a massive problem (although the caterers had access to a hose...).
The wait stretched until 6 - finally, I got back together with Abbe and Dr. Bacon, who showed me D'Argo's catscan (slices of boxer, wow!). To his surprise and possible relief, the tumour IS DISCRETE. It's nowhere near as involved or vascularised as he'd anticipated. However, his blood calcium is way too high, likely due to something the tumour is generating, throwing off his system. There was also a spot on one lung that gave some concern, but the throat issue was the obvious urgency. He pointed out there's a chance they'll have to remove one or both jugular and/or carotid vessels, but that's been done successfully in the past without complete impairment to the patient. He also pointed out there's a chance D'Argo could bleed out on the operating table. Considering that if he didn't have the surgery, he'd be dead within a month anyway (either by choking to death, starving to death or having to be put to sleep)... there was no question about proceeding.
Unfortunately, the holidays got in the way of quick action. The soonest this could be done was the 28th or 29th - I think we have to be up there the 28th.
D'Argo and Meissa on the road, December 2009
One of the points of this ramble was to get to the unabashed begging for money. I know it sucks dead rat through a straw out there (thank you, Emma Bull) for finances and making things stretch. I've got $5000 in CareCredit. I don't know what'd happen if I defaulted. Please help me not find out.
The tests and initial vist are being billed at $1,202 - I have three months to pay it off before 24% interest hits the balance.
The surgery will likely use up every crumb of the balance of the credit. Again, I don't know what'll happen if it goes over and I don't have the money to pay them, except D'Argo's likely then to become a full-time Gator, assuming he makes it through the operation. So.
Anything you can, anything you will. It's not for me - it's for that big white galoot. He doesn't deserve to not have a chance.
LLADRO STATUARY FOR SALE (getting all these sold might also save the house)
Item Stock #, Has Box (yes/no), Quantity, Price
Centaur Girl - 01001012, No, 1, 495.00
Centaur Boy - 01001013, No, 1, 495.00
Old Dog - 01001067, No, 1, 750.00
Beagle Puppy - 01001070, No, 1, 250.00
Miss Valencia - 01001422, No, 1, 320.00
Nuns - 01014611, No, 1, 190.00
Angel with Child - 01004635, No, 1, 175.00
Girl w/ Child (Madonna) - 01004636, No, 1, 295.00
Madonna Head - 01004649, No, 1, 250.00
Dressmaker - 01004700, No, 1, 400.00
Woman w/ Dog - 01004761, No, 1, 345.00
Dutch Girl - 01004860, No, 1, 350.00
Girl w/ Goose & Dog - 01004866, No, 1, 300.00
Boy Kissing - 01004869, No, 1, 140.00
Girl Kissing - 01004873, No, 1, 140.00
Walk with the Dog - 01004893, No, 1, 260.00
Mechanic Boy - 01004897, No, 1, 325.00
Dog & Butterfly - 01004917, No, 1, 460.00
Closing Scene - 01004935, No, 1, 560.00
There's a small handful of others which I haven't been able to list yet for one reason or another, and one with a wee bit of damage which is probably not even worth selling.
Boxer with Blur - D'Argo and baby Meissa, 2005
At least three years ago (I think - I don't have a mental timestamp for it), I noticed an egg-sized lump in D'Argo's throat. It slid up and down under the skin pretty freely; despite this, Dr. Marmesh was disinclined to try to operate, due to the number of vital structures in the throat. He does surgeries, but he's not a surgical specialist. It seemed innocuous at the time, so I didn't press the point. Finding a surgeon would, just like for humans, be unholy expensive, and if it wasn't being a problem, it seemed an unnecessary risk.
Fast-forward to about a month ago. The tumour, while never doing anything blatantly alarming, had kept growing and was now about the size of a grapefruit (or an ostrich egg instead of a chicken egg, if you want to keep that imagery). D'Argo had started coughing persistently in a way which he's done when he's had worms, but this time Marmesh said that the tumour was finally impacting his trachea, esophagus and larynx. A few days after that vet visit, D'Argo went effectively mute. He also stopped being interested in kibble, even well-soaked, because whatever it was was going to have to squeeze by that godawful lump.
It was going to have to come out. Here's the tricky part - I've been unemployed since May of 2008, due to a ripple effect of our atrocious state of economy. My unemployment benefits have a very short time left to run; my food stamp benefits will be revisited in February. Due to my mother drinking her house equity loan that she got for a hysterectomy not covered by the insurance she'd been paying for for decades (that's another rant), there's an imminent threat of foreclosure and subsequent eviction from this house that I grew up in. How was I going to get the care my dog needed so urgently?
The second surgical hospital I spoke to suggested checking IMOM.org - We are dedicated to insure that no companion animal has to be euthanized simply because their caretaker is financially challenged. As a requirement for requesting their help, applicants must apply to CareCredit, which provides via GE interest-charged funding for veterinary as well as human medical needs.
By some small miracle, after talking to a nearly random person in Second Life (we're both members of/trainers at the Virtual Kennel Club) and finding out we're 'related' via a household in the Society for Creative Anachronism, not only did she offer to help pay something towards D'Argo's consultation, but I was also given the amount of funding I asked for - with virtually no income, and various dings on my credit history. But see, I already had the beginnings of help, from Rachel.
The state with help from the federal government is paying for my getting some training for certifications in I.T. I had to excuse myself from class after talking to the The Small Animal Hospital at the University of Florida Veterinary Medical Center. I had contacted their PR person and left a message on another extension there about getting help. The medical services linked to the University of Florida, from everything I've heard, are nearly legendary in scope. Shands is supposed to be one of the best hospitals in the whole SE'rn U.S., if not the whole nation. The vet hospital, while not having quite as efficiently terse a name, has the same reputation for advanced and cutting-edge medical techniques - and I can find Gainesville in my sleep.
Considering I got the call about a shoehorned in appointment with Oncology on Wednesday afternoon, I was going to have to find Gainesville in my sleep. It was a drop-everything moment. I cleared out the car hastily (it was mostly just Diet Pepsi cans, honest; fluffy junk), packed a change of clothes for me, two days' food for the puppies, confirmed the weather and got out of Dodge around midnight. It was a rough drive up - I'd only had about four hours of sleep the night before due to a lack of adaptation to my class schedule yet. With two stops for lion-naps (much larger than cats), though, I made it into the hospital car park a little after dawn, although we had to wait until 09:45.
Abbe, who is a medical student or intern there, did the initial interview, then brought in Dr. Roger Bacon (formerly of London, and yes he has retained his accent) to discuss things. He didn't think it looked good - although it hadn't seemed to have metastasized, a tumour like this was certainly malignant inherently, and usually became involved into the throat structures, nerves and possibly the lungs. They were going to have to do tests, and the tests were going to take all day. The puppies and I were on our own until at least 4 PM. We tried one dog park (closed to non-members, or at least people without $15 dollars entrance fee for the day), were directed to another, met a GORGEOUS tricolour Pemmie boypuppy in the PetsMart car park on the way; Annie was not cooperative, but the corgwn had a grand time sniffing around the park and playing with the only other dog, another youngster who looked like a miniature German Shepherd of a sort. I wandered back and forth around Gainesville, looking for new harnesses for all the dogs in hopes of getting something they wouldn't break instantly, and for old landmarks. Most of the landmarks aren't. Alas.
I also forgot I hadn't slept, but eventually wandered back to the hospital car park, zonked out for another hour or so, and watched the Christmas party caterers work on their cooking-rough feast. I even got some leftover smoked turkey from them - they have a big mobile smoker on a trailer, and were cooking over portable gas fires. Made me nostalgic for feast-cratting, although they had modern conveniences like sheet cake four-to-a-case, and stuffing mix. Something about me wandering away from the car snapped Annie's nerves, and she made enough of a mess in the car to add to the stress, but not be a massive problem (although the caterers had access to a hose...).
The wait stretched until 6 - finally, I got back together with Abbe and Dr. Bacon, who showed me D'Argo's catscan (slices of boxer, wow!). To his surprise and possible relief, the tumour IS DISCRETE. It's nowhere near as involved or vascularised as he'd anticipated. However, his blood calcium is way too high, likely due to something the tumour is generating, throwing off his system. There was also a spot on one lung that gave some concern, but the throat issue was the obvious urgency. He pointed out there's a chance they'll have to remove one or both jugular and/or carotid vessels, but that's been done successfully in the past without complete impairment to the patient. He also pointed out there's a chance D'Argo could bleed out on the operating table. Considering that if he didn't have the surgery, he'd be dead within a month anyway (either by choking to death, starving to death or having to be put to sleep)... there was no question about proceeding.
Unfortunately, the holidays got in the way of quick action. The soonest this could be done was the 28th or 29th - I think we have to be up there the 28th.
D'Argo and Meissa on the road, December 2009
One of the points of this ramble was to get to the unabashed begging for money. I know it sucks dead rat through a straw out there (thank you, Emma Bull) for finances and making things stretch. I've got $5000 in CareCredit. I don't know what'd happen if I defaulted. Please help me not find out.
The tests and initial vist are being billed at $1,202 - I have three months to pay it off before 24% interest hits the balance.
The surgery will likely use up every crumb of the balance of the credit. Again, I don't know what'll happen if it goes over and I don't have the money to pay them, except D'Argo's likely then to become a full-time Gator, assuming he makes it through the operation. So.
Anything you can, anything you will. It's not for me - it's for that big white galoot. He doesn't deserve to not have a chance.
LLADRO STATUARY FOR SALE (getting all these sold might also save the house)
Item Stock #, Has Box (yes/no), Quantity, Price
Centaur Girl - 01001012, No, 1, 495.00
Centaur Boy - 01001013, No, 1, 495.00
Old Dog - 01001067, No, 1, 750.00
Beagle Puppy - 01001070, No, 1, 250.00
Miss Valencia - 01001422, No, 1, 320.00
Nuns - 01014611, No, 1, 190.00
Angel with Child - 01004635, No, 1, 175.00
Girl w/ Child (Madonna) - 01004636, No, 1, 295.00
Madonna Head - 01004649, No, 1, 250.00
Dressmaker - 01004700, No, 1, 400.00
Woman w/ Dog - 01004761, No, 1, 345.00
Dutch Girl - 01004860, No, 1, 350.00
Girl w/ Goose & Dog - 01004866, No, 1, 300.00
Boy Kissing - 01004869, No, 1, 140.00
Girl Kissing - 01004873, No, 1, 140.00
Walk with the Dog - 01004893, No, 1, 260.00
Mechanic Boy - 01004897, No, 1, 325.00
Dog & Butterfly - 01004917, No, 1, 460.00
Closing Scene - 01004935, No, 1, 560.00
There's a small handful of others which I haven't been able to list yet for one reason or another, and one with a wee bit of damage which is probably not even worth selling.