In April, toward the middle of the month, we will pass a milestone. It was then, two years ago, that an oncologist looked at us and said that Emmett would likely have another three, maybe six months. If he were an odds beater, we could hope for a year.

Two years ago.

You could say, then, that he’s an odds beater. Me? I say he’s a miracle.

Last week, we took Emmett (aka Emito The Wonder Dog) to Purdue for his quarterly round of oncology pokes and prods. They do blood work and ultrasounds, and every other visit they throw in X-rays. His last check included X-rays, plus they wanted the neurologist to take a quick look again because his legs have been so shaky, and it took allllll day. But I’m always prepared for that. I get him checked in with the tech students before his 10:00 appointment, then I go to Panera or Starbucks and work until they call me, usually around 4 or 5 that evening. This time, John came with me, and after we dropped him off, we dashed to Panera to grab the good corner table with the outlet to settle in for our long day.

Two hours later, he was ready.

My mind reeled. Two hours?! We’ve never, ever, EVER gotten him through oncology that quickly. Of course, I leaped to the conclusion: Something was wrong.

{{Side note: Do you do that, too? When something is even slightly different, does your brain spin into an abyss of worst-case-scenarios? Not just me, right?}}

We race back, clenched jaws, no talking, and park ourselves in the chairs closest to the swinging doors that lead to the back so that we can snatch him into a hug the second he comes out.

Of course, out comes the doctor… no Emmett.

But the doctor’s smiling! “Everything looks great,” he says.

Have you ever burst into tears out of sheer relief? I was seriously holding my breath just to keep the dam from bursting because holy moly.

Anyway, long story short:

His splenic and liver nodules are static, meaning they’re still there but not getting any bigger. We asked them to check a lump just under his ribs, and the doctor said it was Crisco (gross but benign). Then, we had asked them to check a red spot on his right flank. His hemangiosarcoma started as a red spot on his belly, so we were most worried about that. They were running some tests on it, but he said he was confident it was just a little infected hot spot. Turns out, that was the case. So, we walked away with refills on his chemo–“Keep doing exactly what you’re doing”–and an antibiotic for his infection.

As for the shaking in his legs, we also talked to the vet about some arthritis flare-ups that Emmett’s been having. As part of the chemo protocol, he’s on a daily NSAID, so we were super concerned about drug interactions or what we could give him. But I was desperate to address this because his back hips have been bothering him so much that he’s been avoiding squatting to go to the bathroom as much as possible. Not good. We’ve been loading him up with pumpkin to make it… um… easier, but he was still struggling. He gave us a prescription pain reliever that doesn’t interact with his chemo meds to use as needed. We started him on the lowest, minimal dose, and dangit if Emmett  isn’t acting like a spring chicken! Now we’re counting down until we can open the pool because the vet said to get him swimming because he’s losing some muscle mass, which makes the arthritis worse.

But, OF COURSE, the oncologist and everyone else there smiled and shook their heads as Emmett bopped around, smiling, wagging, greeting everyone. They all commented, “No way he’s almost 13! No way!” The oncologist even said he was so keyed up for his ultrasounds and checking everyone out that they had to give him a sedative to get him to hold still. Ha! Bad, Emmett. 😉

Deep down, I know we’re on borrowed time.

But I’ve never been more grateful.

And we are going to make the most of it!