It has been a couple of weeks since Dozer's diagnosis. Overall he is responding well to treatment.
He had his first chemotherapy injection on Aug. 7 and was sent home with 60 mg Cerenia (an anti-nausea drug) and 20 mg Prednisone (taking 1 and 1/2 pill daily for first week).
Within the first few days he was acting better. The strange breathing convulsions and gagging at night had stopped and he was eating again. The lymph nodes under his jaw were almost back to normal by the end of the week. He has lost some weight, we will know how much tomorrow. The Prednisone has begun to make him SUPER thirsty and he is urinating a lot - vet says this is normal. He goes back in tomorrow to add another drug to the treatment and to reduce Prednisone.
Vet says he will go over the 25 week plan with me (I will share details later).
I am very hopeful Dozer will continue to respond well. Sadly my biggest concern at the moment is the cost. Originally we were looking at $180 a month and that cost has now jumped substantially. We have incurred costs more than $600 in just the first few weeks of diagnosing and treatment. It is an awful feeling to have to determine if you can afford to provide a longer life for one of the loves of your life.

The worst day

In titling this post, I was reminded of a movie I recently saw-"Extremely loud and incredibly close"- in which a young boy named Oskar struggles with the loss of his father who died on 9/11, or as he refers to it, the worst day.
In the movie, Oskar compares the year following his father's death to that of the time it takes for the sun to die out. "If the sun were to explode, you wouldn't even know about it for 8 minutes because that's how long it takes for light to travel to us. For eight minutes the world would still be bright and it would still feel warm. It was a year since my dad died and I could feel my eight minutes with him... were running out."  
Saturday, July 28, 2012, was the worst day for me and my fur baby Dozer. The day the signs of illness landed us in the animal ER. Within days he was diagnosed with canine lymposarcoma. Suddenly our future together feels like it is quickly running out.
After long talks with the vet, and a lot of research, I understand that Dozer's time with us will likely be cut in half (or more). However, I am extremely determined to provide him with a full quality of life, and hopeful that we are blessed with more time.
I hope to capture our fleeting time together, offer others information that may be helpful in their dealings with canine lymphoma, and mostly I hope to honor the life and love of my baby Dozey Day.