When Bad Days Turn Into Bad Weeks

This past month has been one of those I could have skipped through. It all started with a positive test for a family member that turned into two weeks of doctor appointments and a few days in the hospital. What we thought was under control has now become a terrible situation. With just a few days to process all of the new diagnosis, things turned even worse. 

My longtime companion was almost nine, and this winter had been hard on her. She would have days where I would have to carry her out and help her back inside. Then we had a week where she was doing a lot better, and I thought that Spring would give us both some relief. Before I left town for another round of doctor visits, she would become confused. A bit of patience and time to process things would strengthen out in her mind. Then I got a phone call she had stayed out till later in the night because the weather was decent. When the person who was taking care of her went to get her out of the dog house, she would not get up. They carried her inside, made her a comfortable place to rest, gave her fluids, and kept her warm. I called all the doctors, changed all the appointments, and drove home. 

One look and I knew we were in some serious trouble. She could not lift her head, and there was no control over her back legs at all. I got her on some electrolytes then manually drained her bladder. She would eat a bit like some peanut butter and molasses and if I talked sweetly a few bites of puppy food. That night I slept by her on the floor if I moved away, she would get agitated and cry. She was over 50 pounds, so moving her without causing her pain took three people and a blanket. 

The next morning I went over and asked a neighbor for the name of their veterinarian. I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from someone with a few letters behind their name. I called; they quoted me a price and set an immediate appointment. 

This vet was an old country guy; he walked in wearing Justin boots and jeans. He took one look at her and told me there was nothing that we could do. He said he could keep her alive, but the paralysis would not improve. My poor girl had arthritis, and that had already crippled one leg. He did offer to run tests, but when I asked what would her quality of life, he told it would be miserable. She would never get up and have to be manually flipped every four hours to keep from developing sores on her skin. Her bladder would never work correctly again, and the procedures hurt. The final diagnosis was a stroke in all reality, a series of them. In the end, the decision was made to put her to sleep. 

It broke my heart when he took her back to the exam room. They had to weigh her, so he picked her and talked to her the whole time. I asked if he wanted me to stay while they gave her the injection, but he said they would take care of her. I don't think any of us were dry-eyed, even the hardened veterinarian who deals with animals every day. I have lost animals before, but this was horrid; she was alert and responsive. Her body just would not let her move in any manner. I did not understand the cremation process. The way they do perform it, I will get her ashes back that are not mixed with other animals. They discounted the amount they charged me and took excellent care of both of us. 

Two days after enduring all of this, we were back in the ER for my family member and the flu. Now I have it, so spending my weekend trying to recover from the nasty gunk, so many other people are going through. The coming days bring all those doctor appointments I had pushed back. 

I am hoping that after this round, I can take some time off and get some writing done. My notebooks are full of notes, just waiting to be brought to life in stories.