The panic I felt when our 12-year-old standard poodle, Remi, collapsed on the evening of 4/24/26. She walked into the hallway, and I heard a crash. I thought she was just being naughty and getting into something; my family and I were packing for a move, so there were lots of boxes and packing supplies strewn about. I called to her, but she didn’t come to me. After a few beats, I went into the hallway to see her slumped against the wall, shaking. I rushed to her and could feel her heart pounding, her gums were pale, and she seemed dazed. I could tell she was in shock but didn’t know why.

I yelled to my husband that I was rushing her to the ER and for him to secure the other dog and follow me. In the car, I kept checking that she was breathing and prayed it was anaphylaxis, which is scary but often treatable…but I had a sinking feeling it was something worse.

The ER took her back immediately; I approved the $950 rush back that allowed them to do what was needed to stabilize her. I sat shaking in the exam room until my husband came, then we sat in silence together. The doctor finally came in; she had a large syringe filled with bloody fluid. Remi had suffered cardiac tamponade, meaning the protective sac around her heart had filled with so much fluid her heart could not contract and expand to pump blood. I immediately broke down; I work in medicine and knew what bloody fluid in the pericardial sac meant…cancer. They couldn’t see a mass but assumed it was there. She had to stay in the hospital for monitoring and repeat ultrasounds for 24 hours. Our bill was amazingly only about $3000 total. She came home and seemed to feel okay, but we couldn’t take our eyes off of her and woke up every few hours over nights to check on her.

A wonderful oncologist was able to fast-track her and get her in for an echocardiogram and oncology consult on 4/28. The cardiologist allowed me to be present for the echo, and I saw the 4 cm mass in her right atrial wall come onto the ultrasound screen. He confirmed what I already knew; it was a hemangiosarcoma, an aggressive type of soft tissue cancer common in older dogs that often starts in the spleen or heart but spreads to the lungs and liver. The tumor had bled on the night of the 24th, causing the tamponade and hypovolemic shock. Oncology then did an abdominal ultrasound and found a 1 cm mass in her liver, meaning she has a metastatic lesion. I cried as the oncologist told me the prognosis of 1-2 months without oncology treatments and 6-9 months, maybe a year, with aggressive treatment. Surgery is not an option in Remi’s case as the tumor is in her heart wall and already spread to the liver. I looked into my beautiful girl’s brown eyes; she still had so much life in them, we had to try.

She received her first dose of palliative radiation (doxorubicin) that day. Palliative means the goal is not to cure; it is to slow the progression of the cancer to give the patient more time. She was such a champ; other than fatigue the day after the infusion, she didn’t suffer any side effects.

She has an appointment with LSU’s radiation oncology department on 5/7 for a form of palliative radiation. She will have to undergo anesthesia for the procedure; we are scared but know she will be in good hands.

We are moving across the state (Florida) on 5/15. Our beautiful house, only 2 years old, that we have also done upgrades to (including clearing the property and putting in a huge fenced back yard for Remi and her poodle sister to run in) has been on the market for 2 months. The real estate market is terrible right now, and our neighborhood is still under construction, so we’re competing with new builds. We’ve just asked our realtor about selling to a corporation to try to break even and just walk away. Paying mortgage on our house, plus rent at our new house, while paying for Remi’s care is weighing on us. We’ll make it happen, but it’s scary.

She is already set up for her next chemo appointment with the new oncologist on 5/19, just a few days after we move in. We’re so thankful there is an oncologist in our new city.

Today (5/5) we got the best news, Remi has been accepted into a Yale Vaccine Trial at MedVet Salt Lake City. We applied to every open trial in the country accepting out-of-state patients and patients with her type of cancer (some are only doing the trial on osteosarcomas). We’re keeping our fingers crossed that the trial in Virginia may accept us, as that is an 8-hour car ride instead of a plane ride away, but if they can’t/don’t accept us in time, we’ll make the trek out to Utah and be happy to have the opportunity to provide Remi with this new treatment. She will have 2 “vaccines,” which are immunotherapy against the cancer cells, 3 weeks apart. She will have to have chest x-rays, ultrasound, and blood work every 3 months for a year following the vaccine series. The trial is still fairly new at treating Remi’s type of cancer, but with surgery, oncology treatment, and the vaccine, osteosarcoma patients are still in remission up to 2 years later, doubling to tripling previous survival time for that type of cancer.

We love our girl so much, and with or without funding we will make it happen. She is our priority, and we love her and her furry siblings more than anything. But anything to help take a little bit of the burden off between moving to a new city, starting a new job, trying to sell our house in a rough market, and now our girl’s health, would lift so much weight off our shoulders. We thank you so much if you have read all the way to the bottom of our story. Even if you choose not to donate, please keep our Remi girl in your thoughts. ❤️