One Last Trip

October 21, 2009

I wake to a morning , wet with snow and a cold that makes me shiver to the bone, unlike yesterday when temperatures hovered in the 70’s under sunny, blue skies. I wake Cain and prepare for our trip to Ft. Collins. We’re off to CSU today to see if Cain qualifies for a new clinical trial for lung tumors. He’ll have his blood tested, x-rays reviewed and health evaluated to determine if he is able to participate. We weave our way onto the freeway, and a sea of lights stretches before us as far as I can see in the morning darkness as our ride begins.

CSU has become a sort of comfort for me. Maybe it’s because each time we come here, I have a small spot of hope in the back of my mind that this time we’ll find a treatment that will make Cain better. Or maybe it’s the common bond shared with the many people who bring their animals here for the same reason. I’m not quite sure, but that comforting feeling is dashed, and I know I have my answer to the clinical trial before any tests begin. As we cross the parking lot and walk through the doors, Cain starts to shake and cough, his anxiety is overwhelming and I know in my heart that I can’t put him through this anymore.

Without dragging the story out, it is determined that Cain’s cancer is probably too advanced to subject him to the trial. We can proceed with the additional tests required but Dr. Warry and I both agree that this is probably not in his best interest. She explains that Cain doesn’t have much longer and I slowly lose the hope I’ve been clinging to and once again I sit in a private room and cry.