This is my princess Ayla Simone. She's a registered black labrador retriever born in Wilsonville, Oregon, July 17, 2001. I love her more than most people I've known. When her Veterinarian told me last December, after the 3.5 hour surgery, that she had malignant adeno-thyroid cancer with a grimm prognosis, I cried, walked around like a wounded bear and prepared for worst day of my life all the while hoping she would stay with me for another 5-7 years.
She's one of my best friends. She snores like an old man. She loves grapes, carrots and cherry tomatoes. Her favorite place is the beach where she rolls in the most foul of dead things and then shakes in my car sending the stenchy sand flying to the far corners of my vehicle. She eats seaweed and carry's it down the beach as if it were a prize from the Queen herself. I don't mind the sand in my car. That's what vacuum cleaners are for, right?
About 2 weeks ago I decided to take my precious girl to see another Veterinarian. Sure it cost me a "new patient" visit charge, but I felt it was the right thing to do. After her nails were trimmed and she had a thorough examination, the Doctor discussed with me the fact that she is still alive and really shouldn't be given her initial diagnosis. Malignant adeno-thyroid canine cancer is a killer. Even with chemo, radiation and all the latest treatments, it's unheard of for a dog to survive for more than 3 years, yet my Ayla is thriving without any of these aggressive treatments.
My new Veterinarian said to me there are 2 explanations for Ayla surviving and doing so well. One is she's a miracle girl and should be written up in doggie medical journals or the biopsy was wrong and she never had cancer in the first place. Now my cuddly canine being a miracle sounds great to me and I'll buy that, but the biopsy being wrong and she never had cancer was disturbing in so many ways.
What if I had decided to prevent Ayla any suffering and euthanized her based on a faulty biopsy report that I paid for? The thought of this is more than I can wrap my head and heart around so I'm simply grateful that I had faith in her and faith in myself.
How many dogs, cats, horses, pigs or people are misdiagnosed every year and are subsequently treated for something they don't have that causes something terrible to happen? I'm sure these numbers would cause great distress. No wonder there are so many malpractice suits these days.
The lesson in all of this is to always, always, always get a second or even third opinion. It can save a life. Maybe your dog, your cat, your horse or pig. Maybe your husband, your wife, your son, your daughter, your mother, father, sister, brother. Maybe a grandparent, an aunt, an uncle or your best friend. Maybe the life is yours.
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