Emmett’s Recent Oncology Appointment: Positive Results and Ongoing Care

Yesterday, we left home at 7 am to drive up to Purdue for Emmett’s next round of tests.

He was having blood work, x-rays, and an ultrasound as part of his chemo check-up. His appointment was at 9:30, but then the tests were spaced throughout the day, so we had to leave him there all day (which I hate).

So, I’m going to skip ahead to the end: We got great results! No progression of disease, which is what we hope for. He does still have that gall bladder sludge, but it hasn’t changed since his last checkup. His ALT levels went up again, but his oncologist said she isn’t worried about it yet. We’re having his labs run again in four weeks to see if that’s changing at all, then he’ll go back to Purdue in 10 weeks to repeat the ultrasound.

All in all, it was what we wanted to hear!

This post isn’t really about that, though. Today, I want to tell you about the interesting experience we had in the lobby.

We arrived after a nearly 2-and-a-half-hour drive  and got checked in. The lobby was already pretty packed, but there were two seats together at the far end near the restrooms.

We sat down, and John got up to run to the bathroom. Simultaneously, the woman across from us had returned from handing in her paperwork. When John walked away, Emmett had turned to watch him go, sticking his butt in front of this lady’s chair.

“Can I sit down?” she asked.

“Oh! Sorry!” I said. I called Emmett’s name to get him to turn toward me, thus swinging his butt away from her chair. But she didn’t move. She stood right in between and just looked at me.

“Can I walk past?” she asked.

In that moment, I honestly didn’t register anything weird. I was confused. I looked, and she had more than a few feet in between my chair and hers, and she was thin. I thought she wanted me to scootch my chair, though, so I started to shift, and she said, “Is he aggressive?” She pointed at Emmett and took a small step backward.

Lightbulb.

“Oh! No! He’s very friendly. He really loves everyone,” I said. The woman didn’t trust my response. She walked around the bank of chairs to come at her seat from the opposite side, the side furthest from Emmett.

She sat down and stared at him. “He’s a pit, right?”

I replied something about him being a pit/hound mix, and she said, “He’s not aggressive unless dogs are around, right?”

I looked around the lobby. There were literally dogs everywhere, and Emmett was just lounging at my feet wagging his tail at this woman.

“Nope,” I replied. “He’s great with dogs. He really does love everyone: kids, dogs, we even have a cat. In fact, he recently retired from working with kids as a therapy dog. He’s a lover!”

She asked, “So, you trust him?”

“One hundred percent.”

No reply.

John came back from the bathroom and sat down. He glanced at the woman, who was so clearly uncomfortable – she had her arms crossed and her legs tucked under her chair, and didn’t take her eyes off of Emmett – and gave me a look. “I’ll tell you later,” I said. Right then, then tech came over to collect Emmett. He wagged and kissed her and trotted off after her, despite having never met her before.

We left.

The woman wasn’t there when we came back to pick Em up.

Hopefully his nonstop wagging was able to put a tiny little chip in her armor, but who knows…

But that?

That is why we need Pit Bull Awareness Month.