As I write this, our favorite boy, Banjo, is hospitalized and being monitored while we search for answers.

Early this morning, we rushed Banjo to Carolina Veterinary Specialists after he suddenly became lethargic, confused, weak, and disoriented. He was stumbling and bumping into things and acting as though he couldn’t see well. His gums and tongue were pale, and he seemed completely unlike himself. He didn’t care about the car ride. He didn’t react to unfamiliar people handling him. Anyone who knows Banjo knows that alone was enough to tell us something was seriously wrong.

After his initial exam and bloodwork, we received frightening news: Banjo was severely hypoglycemic. His blood sugar was in the 30’s, which is low enough to cause seizures, loss of consciousness, and other life threatening complications. A normal dog his size should be in the 90-110 range. Numbers this low don’t happen from a late breakfast or a skipped meal. It would generally take days without food to reach levels like these.

The next step was additional diagnostics, interesting x-rays and a urinalysis. By this point, our total had already reached approximately $1200-$1500.

Unfortunately, the results didn’t give us many answers.

His urine looked normal. There was no evidence of infection, blood, or dehydration. The x-rays showed what the veterinarian described as a “massive” prostate, along with a small cluster of tissue that may be enlarged lymph nodes. While those findings are concerning, they don’t explain the severe hypoglycemia.

At this point, the possibilities range from treatable to devastating.

The enlarged prostate could be benign prostatic hyperplasia. It could be an abscess that isn’t yet showing up in his bloodwork. It could be cancer. Another possibility is an insulinoma — a tumor of the pancreas that causes dangerously low blood sugar. In dogs, most insulinomas are malignant and often shorten life expectancy.

Right now, we simply don’t know.

To get answers, Banjo needs two additional tests: an insulin-to-glucose ratio test and an abdominal ultrasound, along with continued hospitalization and overnight monitoring to keep him stable. Our total is now estimated at $3000-$4000, 75% of which is due at time of admission and the remaining due at discharge.

This estimate assumes Banjo only needs one night in the hospital. If his blood sugar remains unstable or his condition requires longer monitoring, his stay could extend, increasing costs further.

If testing confirms something like an insulinoma, we could also be facing significantly more expenses ahead. The veterinarian explained that surgery, if he’s even a candidate, could cost anywhere from $8,000-$10,000. Right now, we are focusing on getting answers first, but it is impossible to not feel the weight of those possibilities.

Anyone who knows me knows that Banjo is not “just a dog.”

For the last seven years, he has been my constant companion. My schedule revolves around him. If Banjo can’t go, I usually don’t go either. If I can’t identify every ingredient in something, it doesn’t go in his bowl. His prescription diet costs over $150 every three weeks, and we’ve never once questioned whether he was worth it.

Over the last two years, I've become disabled. For the past year, I've been unable to work under my doctors' orders. During some of the hardest days of my life, Banjo has been right by my side through all of it: the sleepless nights, the early mornings, the countless days spent resting and trying to get through another flare. He's been my comfort, my routine, and one of the biggest reasons I keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Since becoming disabled, I've had to rely heavily on Jacob, who works incredibly hard to support us. He already works long hours just to keep our household running and our bills paid. There isn't extra income tucked away for emergencies like this, and there simply aren't enough hours left in the day for him to work more. We were recently approved for CareCredit, which we're incredibly grateful for, but the approval amount was only $1,500... far short of what Banjo's emergency care and diagnostics are expected to cost.

We've always done everything we could to provide for ourselves, which is why asking for help feels so difficult.

The truth is that Banjo has given us everything he has for seven years.

He's been there through every milestone, every ordinary day, every difficult season, and every moment in between. He has loved us unconditionally, asked for very little in return, and has somehow always known exactly when we needed him most.

Now he needs us.

I'm not good at asking for help, and swallowing my pride enough to create this fundraiser has been extremely difficult. But Banjo deserves every chance to get answers and receive the care he needs. The least I can do for him now is fight as hard for him as he has always fought for me.

If you're able to donate, share this fundraiser, or simply keep Banjo in your thoughts, it would mean more than I can ever adequately express.

Thank you for helping us fight for our favorite boy.