Radioactive.

So large family-size dog Tralfaz is still getting chemotherapy. I'm glad to say he is still doing very well on it. It's very hard to get him to take capsules -- not all drugs can be chewed, damn it -- but once the two pills are down his throat, he seems to be just fine. Doesn't seem to affect his appetite at all anymore. It may be causing some nocturnal trips to the yard, but that’s endurable.

The six-month plan for his treatment has actually turned out to be a six-dose plan, because the drug, lomustine, is radioactive, and is rough on the liver. Every month we have to get him a blood test, and if his liver enzymes are too high, we have to hold off for a month. It's taken about eight months for his first five doses, and he's expected to get just one more. 

As you might imagine, a radioactive drug comes with certain warnings. I'm supposed to wear gloves when shoving the pills down his throat — while he's trying to pull away and snap shut his huge mouth. He is supposed to pee where "urine will drain quickly." Feces should be placed in a plastic bag and gloves should be worn for the disposal. Other dogs should not drink out of the same bowl for 24 hours after the medication is given. 

Unfortunately, the poop does not glow in the dark, which would make it easier to find. 

How dangerous is it, really? I've tried to find out, but I can't find anything that says exactly how radioactive it is. I'd love to borrow a Geiger counter and wave it over the pills. Or the poop.

Well, I hope I don't get cancer of the phalanges, because while I'm great at washing my hands raw over these things, I'm bad about wearing the gloves. Fazzy's so big he would probably swallow my hand if I used gloves to stuff the pills into him, and I never think to bring them with me on Captain Poopy patrol. 

I guess I'll be joining the Firm, then.

And that song hit #1 on the US rawk chart!