The Dog Cancer Survival Guide (6 page)

Glenda’s world had turned upside down today, and I couldn’t give her what she really needed: good answers, a solid plan, and (maybe just as important), hope and comfort.

My tired mind raced on.
What if there
are
other options? What else is there? There must be
more to
know, and there must be better tools. There are so many medical systems I have never used. What if I haven’t learned all there is to learn?

This may not sound like a radical train of thought to you, but for a conventional vet, it’s tantamount to heresy. I have been trained to be skeptical of any practice, herb, technique, or medicine that has not been proven to work in a double-blind, placebo-controlled study. Unless it met this “gold standard,” I scoffed at the treatment as unlikely to work ... and trying it would be a waste of time, money, or both.

Until that night, I thought this was a scientific mindset. But now, I wondered if I was just closed-minded.

By the time I turned into my driveway, I was questioning everything.

Did Max’s diet actually contribute to his cancer? What about vaccines? Do toxins in our environment affect dogs?
My first-rate veterinary education had never addressed many of these angles.

My conscience nagged me.
What did I really know?
It had been a few years since I left school. I had had little time to keep up with the latest research.

When did I last read original cancer literature? Are chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery really all that veterinary medicine can offer Max? Is he getting short-changed? What else can I do besides what I have been trained to do? There must be more options!

Since that night, I have been searching for the answers to these and many more questions. I rediscovered a passion for research, and have been tireless in my search for answers about the causes of dog cancer and, of course, the best treatments. As it turns out, there are more options, and there is more we can do.

“Cancer” is the last word dog lovers want to hear from their veterinarian. Many feel their dogs are part of the family, and those two syllables can release a torrent of fear, confusion, anger, guilt, and grief, just as if a human family member were sick. I’ve seen clients “numb out” in front of me, burst into disbelieving, hysterical laughter or violent rages, and even threaten suicide.

I can understand where these extreme responses come from, because I am a lifelong dog lover, too. At first, this diagnosis can seem as urgent, hopeless, and final as a tsunami towering on the horizon.

Dog cancer
is
an emergency, and if it is the tsunami you are facing, think of this book as your survival guide. When tsunami warnings sound in my home state of Hawaii, authorities remind us to pack food and water, gather our loved ones, and quickly but calmly move to higher ground.

In that spirit, this book is written to help you calm down, think clearly, and choose wisely from among the tools that have been credibly shown to help canine cancer.

Every cancer case is as unique as the dog herself
⁴
, but it’s also true that cancer cases are similar to each other. Cancers can be similar in how they begin, develop, spread, and affect surrounding tissues. On the other side of the equation, the body always mobilizes certain systems to try to fight off the cancer.

By taking a bird’s eye view of dog cancer and accounting for these common factors, I’ve developed a standard plan that can be used to target any dog cancer diagnosis, no matter what type it may be. I call my approach Full Spectrum cancer care because it includes everything I’ve found that has been shown to be helpful for dogs with cancer.

Conventional western medical tools are included, but my Full Spectrum approach also includes the very best options from alternative medicine, botanical nutraceuticals, supplements, strategic immune system boosters, nutrition, emotional management strategies, and even some cutting edge mind-body medicine techniques that deliberately modify brain chemistry.

You may have heard “there’s nothing we can do,” or “the only options are chemotherapy and radiation.”

You may have heard your dog has one week or two months or six months left.

It doesn’t matter what you’ve heard. No one has a crystal ball, no matter how many letters or credentials line up after his name. These estimates – and, by the way, most of the numbers in this book – are educated guesses, based on general rules of thumb.

As you’ll learn later, not even veterinary oncologists (animal cancer specialists) all agree on those rules of thumb.
Your individual dog does not have an expiration date, and there is plenty you can do to help.

Imagine looking back at this time in your life, five years from now, and having not a single regret. You can help your dog fight cancer, and, just as important – maybe more important – you can honor your dog’s life by living each moment to the fullest, starting now.

We both have jobs here. My job is to lay out a wellresearched, practical and comprehensive survival guide, including every available tool credibly shown to help fight cancer and help your dog.

Your job is to take a deep breath (you’ll learn later why breathing is so important), read, and take action on what you learn.

Even if you feel miserable right now, reading this book is an act of hope and optimism. This is good news, because, in my experience, the pragmatic dog lover who is willing to learn does the best job of dealing with and fighting dog cancer.

I’m a skeptic by nature, so if an author claims to know something about a subject, I want to know a little bit about him before I give him my trust. No matter who we may be, we all have our own experiences, perspectives, and objectives. Knowing something about the author’s background helps me to understand how he arrives at his conclusions, and whether he may have any underlying biases or a hidden agenda.

I recommend you adopt a similar attitude as you learn about your dog’s cancer. Take everything you hear and read (even in this book) with a grain of salt. As you’ll discover, cancer is not simple, and there are many competing theories, treatments and approaches. What works for one dog may not work for another.

At this time there is no one cure for systemic cancer and, therefore, no absolute right way to treat it. With all of the possibilities out there, you will need to use discernment to weigh all the factors and find the best way to treat your dog’s cancer.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I’m going to tell you a little more about my own story, so you can get to know me, and be alert to my particular biases and attitudes.

First things first: I am a dog lover, through and through. When clients tell me their dog is their best friend, I know exactly what they mean. If loving dogs is genetic, I inherited it from my mother, Lucy. She is the founder of the Pacific Primate Sanctuary on Maui, and yet, she still finds room in her home and heart for a pack of five Chihuahuas. My love of dogs gives me a unique understanding of how painful it is to have a dog with cancer, and that has helped me to write this book.

Second (and this is important): I am not an oncologist. I am a general practice vet who works in one of the most isolated places on Earth. Hawaii is about 3,000 miles from California, in the middle of the Pacific. There are very few veterinary specialists; I simply don’t have the option to refer advanced cases out of my practice. I deal with every type of animal illness and concern, every day. This makes my experience broad and very wide in scope compared to many of my colleagues on the mainland. I am sometimes forced to take a broad view of illnesses and look for overall patterns to help me treat patients, and this can result in unusual methods and unconventional ideas.

Even though I’m not an oncologist, I’ve been nicknamed the “dog cancer vet” by readers and clients, because of my special interest in canine cancer, which was sparked by Max. I spend my extra time devoted to researching and writing about it on my blog
www.DogCancerBlog.com
.

I’ve studied every aspect of canine cancer treatment. I read oncology textbooks cover to cover. I pore over every paper I can find. I talk to every researcher I can get on the phone and pepper those I can’t with emails. I fly to veterinary oncology conferences and follow every lead that presents itself in my search for dog cancer answers.

Until I started this research, I identified myself as a conventional vet. I did not have much respect for “alternative” or “holistic” vets who – in my opinion – were not as scientific as I.

But over time, as I followed leads offered by cuttingedge research, I found myself going, in a sense, “down the rabbit hole.” Like Alice entering Wonderland, things no longer appeared black and white. Rules I had lived by seemed to bend. Assumptions I’d been taught were turned upside down. I found myself venturing far from conventional medicine: first into alternative medicine, and then beyond, to places, theories, and therapies I never would have guessed had anything to do with treating cancer.

I started applying what I had learned with dogs in my practice, and saw results I could never have expected. Not everything worked perfectly, or worked exactly as I hoped it would. But it was surprising to me how many therapies, beyond chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation, can help a dog with cancer.

In the first years of my research, I was really burning the midnight oil, while still running my full-time veterinary hospital. I was glad to be helping the dogs in my practice, of course; what bugged me was that this information was scattered all over the place.