Tonight a friend of ours for nearly 40 years is lying in a hospital in Mississippi, dying of lung cancer that metastasized in his bones and lymph nodes. He’s maybe 64, he has adult children and grandchildren who won’t age with him.

My maternal grandmother died November, 1984, of stomach cancer. My dad died Dec. 26, 1984, of prostate cancer that metastasized in his bone marrow. In 1996 my mother died of complications of lung cancer. My great-aunt Eleanor died of breast cancer. My dear friend Georgia’s mother died of cancer, and it was a painful path we walked. Our first Schipperke died of cancer. My first broker, Claire, lost her husband Trevor to liver cancer. And more people than I can recall have valiantly fought cancer; some have won and many have lost.

The point is, there is no cure for cancer of any kind. One’s cancer can be in remission but it never goes away. My friends who are cancer survivors had their lives changed forever from the time they heard their diagnosis to present. Every time I get a mammogram I wonder and worry about the results. And then in the back of my mind I wonder if I’m really okay.

Today we spoke to our vet about a small lump she removed from Beauregard’s left hock on 3/6, when he got his teeth cleaning. She sent the very small mass to pathology, because she didn’t like its appearance. Today she told us it’s a Stage 2 soft-cell carcinoma.

We’re calling the canine oncologists at UC Davis first thing in the morning. My heart aches and I’m doing all I can to hang on to hope.

Updates to follow.