Read Online Say Good-bye by Laurie Halse Anderson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laurie Halse Anderson
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granddaughter.
Dr. Edwards smiles and takes my hand. “I’m glad to meet you. Your grandmother is a good friend—and a great vet. Well, come on. Let’s have a look at Yum-Yum.”
The patient room is a lot like the one back at Gran’sclinic. Somehow I expected a top cancer treatment center to look more high-tech—more like
Star Trek
or something. But as Gran told me once, “Medicine is in the minds and hands of the doctors and nurses—not in the clinic’s interior design.”
Dr. Edwards examines Yum-Yum with quick, sure hands, feeling all over his body, the way Gran did. She takes his temperature and some blood samples.
“I’d like to do a fine-needle biopsy of one of Yum-Yum’s lymph nodes,” Dr. Edwards says.
“Can I stay while you do it?” Jane asks.
“Sure,” she replies.
They don’t ask me, but since Jane is clutching my hand so tightly it’s cutting off my circulation, I figure I’ll stay.
Dr. Edwards explains that this biopsy can be done while Yum-Yum is awake. While Jane holds him, Dr. Edwards inserts a thin needle into one of the lymph nodes. She explains that as she pulls up on the syringe, it removes some of the cells, which she can then examine under a microscope.
I can’t believe how good Yum-Yum is through the whole thing.
Then Dr. Edwards shoos us out of the office, and we have to do some waiting, which is hard on Jane. But soon Dr. Edwards calls us back into her office to talk.
Jane looks as if she has a million questions. But she just clutches her shoulder bag as she waits for the doctor to speak.
“We don’t have all the tests back,” Dr. Edwards begins.
And somehow I already know the news isn’t good.
“But the biopsy shows that the cancer has spread from the original tumor in Yum-Yum’s mouth to the lymph nodes, just as Dr. Mac suspected.” Dr. Edwards’s face is serious, professional, but also very kind. “It’s spreading into the jaw and damaging the teeth.”
“Not good, huh?” Jane says, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes beg to be contradicted.
“Not good,” Dr. Edwards agrees gently. “From my examination, he seems to be experiencing some pain already. But he’s a tough little dog,” she adds with a smile.
“I should have done something sooner,” Jane says. “I should have realized he was sick.”
Dr. Edwards shakes her head. “You saw Dr.Mac as soon as you noticed something wrong. That was the most anyone could have done. This is a rapid disease, Jane—and a sneaky one—in both animals and people.”
Something in Dr. Edwards’s eyes tells me that maybe she’s lost a loved one to cancer.
“What about chemotherapy? Is it too late to try that?” Jane asks.
“No, we can still try that,” Dr. Edwards says. “We’re having a lot of success with chemotherapy for dogs. Most dogs handle the treatments well. But I’m sure Dr. Mac has explained to you that what we do here is not a cure. The best we can do is work our hardest to arrest the disease—to keep it from spreading. After a complete series of treatments, a good many of our animals go into remission—which means there are no outward signs of the disease. But even then, remission for most animals only lasts about ten to twelve months—sometimes less, sometimes more. Each type of cancer responds differently to chemotherapy, and unfortunately, we have less success with Yum-Yum’s type of tumor.”
Jane nods her head. “Tell me about the treatments,” she says simply.
Dr. Edwards hands some printed sheets acrossthe desk, but Jane doesn’t move to pick them up. She just listens to the doctor’s words.
“Many of the drugs we use to treat cancer in animals are the same drugs that are used on people. A normal course of treatment would be four to six rounds of chemotherapy, at three-week intervals. We also like to see the animal every week for four weeks, then a little less often after that.”
Jane stares out the window. When she turns back to the doctor, her eyes are watery,
Dr. Edwards smiles and takes my hand. “I’m glad to meet you. Your grandmother is a good friend—and a great vet. Well, come on. Let’s have a look at Yum-Yum.”
The patient room is a lot like the one back at Gran’sclinic. Somehow I expected a top cancer treatment center to look more high-tech—more like
Star Trek
or something. But as Gran told me once, “Medicine is in the minds and hands of the doctors and nurses—not in the clinic’s interior design.”
Dr. Edwards examines Yum-Yum with quick, sure hands, feeling all over his body, the way Gran did. She takes his temperature and some blood samples.
“I’d like to do a fine-needle biopsy of one of Yum-Yum’s lymph nodes,” Dr. Edwards says.
“Can I stay while you do it?” Jane asks.
“Sure,” she replies.
They don’t ask me, but since Jane is clutching my hand so tightly it’s cutting off my circulation, I figure I’ll stay.
Dr. Edwards explains that this biopsy can be done while Yum-Yum is awake. While Jane holds him, Dr. Edwards inserts a thin needle into one of the lymph nodes. She explains that as she pulls up on the syringe, it removes some of the cells, which she can then examine under a microscope.
I can’t believe how good Yum-Yum is through the whole thing.
Then Dr. Edwards shoos us out of the office, and we have to do some waiting, which is hard on Jane. But soon Dr. Edwards calls us back into her office to talk.
Jane looks as if she has a million questions. But she just clutches her shoulder bag as she waits for the doctor to speak.
“We don’t have all the tests back,” Dr. Edwards begins.
And somehow I already know the news isn’t good.
“But the biopsy shows that the cancer has spread from the original tumor in Yum-Yum’s mouth to the lymph nodes, just as Dr. Mac suspected.” Dr. Edwards’s face is serious, professional, but also very kind. “It’s spreading into the jaw and damaging the teeth.”
“Not good, huh?” Jane says, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes beg to be contradicted.
“Not good,” Dr. Edwards agrees gently. “From my examination, he seems to be experiencing some pain already. But he’s a tough little dog,” she adds with a smile.
“I should have done something sooner,” Jane says. “I should have realized he was sick.”
Dr. Edwards shakes her head. “You saw Dr.Mac as soon as you noticed something wrong. That was the most anyone could have done. This is a rapid disease, Jane—and a sneaky one—in both animals and people.”
Something in Dr. Edwards’s eyes tells me that maybe she’s lost a loved one to cancer.
“What about chemotherapy? Is it too late to try that?” Jane asks.
“No, we can still try that,” Dr. Edwards says. “We’re having a lot of success with chemotherapy for dogs. Most dogs handle the treatments well. But I’m sure Dr. Mac has explained to you that what we do here is not a cure. The best we can do is work our hardest to arrest the disease—to keep it from spreading. After a complete series of treatments, a good many of our animals go into remission—which means there are no outward signs of the disease. But even then, remission for most animals only lasts about ten to twelve months—sometimes less, sometimes more. Each type of cancer responds differently to chemotherapy, and unfortunately, we have less success with Yum-Yum’s type of tumor.”
Jane nods her head. “Tell me about the treatments,” she says simply.
Dr. Edwards hands some printed sheets acrossthe desk, but Jane doesn’t move to pick them up. She just listens to the doctor’s words.
“Many of the drugs we use to treat cancer in animals are the same drugs that are used on people. A normal course of treatment would be four to six rounds of chemotherapy, at three-week intervals. We also like to see the animal every week for four weeks, then a little less often after that.”
Jane stares out the window. When she turns back to the doctor, her eyes are watery,
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