Still going strong, but only just
We were barely halfway into our evening walk, when Rocky's head suddenly snapped backwards, and he collapsed onto the ground. His four limbs went stiff, and he let out a long, forlorn scream. I'd seen it too many times before -- but never in a dog -- to know instinctively what it was.
Repeating his name over and over, we stroked the length of his body. His limbs were cold, and his breathing laboured.
"It's okay, it's okay. Just breathe," I pleaded. And we sat. Just us, by the side of the road, in those moments that felt like eternity; until his limbs warmed back up. They softened, and we carried him back home.
***
So apparently there are many causes of fits, the vet said. Low blood glucose, which shouldn't be the case, since we've broken up his meal into small portions and have been feeding him throughout the day. Tumours in the brain, the liver, or the pancreas. Maybe the cancer'd spread, we don't know. And then there are "fits of unknown origins," which helps a lot, of course.
We're all hoping that it's a one-off thing, and we won't have to subject him to an MRI. In any case, an MRI would only serve as a diagnosis, not a cure.
So in addition to his antibiotics, his heart medicine, his fever medicine, he now has Valium for the fits, and Mylanta for his vomitting. The insane amount of drugs aside, my mind is now racing to figure out how I'm going to get him to take his Mylanta; all the others are in tablet-form, so we can hide them inside chunks of meat.
"I've given you a couple of syringes, so you can use those to feed him through the mouth," the vet said. Without wanting to be rude, I nodded, while managing a strained smile. But what I really wanted to say was, just how is that supposed to stop him from spitting it back out?
We'll know tomorrow, I guess.
***
He lost another 0.3 kg from last week. By proportion, that's like a human dropping 3 kg.
In total, he's lost close to 1 kg since his op. By proportion, that's like a human dropping 10 kg in less than two months.
Bones that we never even knew existed are now jutting out in all directions.
***
I guess the strange thing is that, despite all the drama (and trauma), most days, we still have some semblance of normality. And that is enough for me to be grateful.
***
Newly bought duvet cover, freshly pressed -- and I don't even get to be the first one to lie on it. That's my dog.
Repeating his name over and over, we stroked the length of his body. His limbs were cold, and his breathing laboured.
"It's okay, it's okay. Just breathe," I pleaded. And we sat. Just us, by the side of the road, in those moments that felt like eternity; until his limbs warmed back up. They softened, and we carried him back home.
***
So apparently there are many causes of fits, the vet said. Low blood glucose, which shouldn't be the case, since we've broken up his meal into small portions and have been feeding him throughout the day. Tumours in the brain, the liver, or the pancreas. Maybe the cancer'd spread, we don't know. And then there are "fits of unknown origins," which helps a lot, of course.
We're all hoping that it's a one-off thing, and we won't have to subject him to an MRI. In any case, an MRI would only serve as a diagnosis, not a cure.
So in addition to his antibiotics, his heart medicine, his fever medicine, he now has Valium for the fits, and Mylanta for his vomitting. The insane amount of drugs aside, my mind is now racing to figure out how I'm going to get him to take his Mylanta; all the others are in tablet-form, so we can hide them inside chunks of meat.
"I've given you a couple of syringes, so you can use those to feed him through the mouth," the vet said. Without wanting to be rude, I nodded, while managing a strained smile. But what I really wanted to say was, just how is that supposed to stop him from spitting it back out?
We'll know tomorrow, I guess.
***
He lost another 0.3 kg from last week. By proportion, that's like a human dropping 3 kg.
In total, he's lost close to 1 kg since his op. By proportion, that's like a human dropping 10 kg in less than two months.
Bones that we never even knew existed are now jutting out in all directions.
***
I guess the strange thing is that, despite all the drama (and trauma), most days, we still have some semblance of normality. And that is enough for me to be grateful.
***
Newly bought duvet cover, freshly pressed -- and I don't even get to be the first one to lie on it. That's my dog.
posted by Laughingcow at 9:40 pm
2 Comments:
Sorry to hear about your dog. My tiny little puppy Pixel had a seizure on Easter Sunday. She's only 7 months old. It was horrible. I used to have epilepsy and imagining a pet going through that and not being able to express itself as we humans do is very sad. I hope that your dog will start to feel better. Good luck.
MaraJade: Thank you for your kind words. I hope your pup keeps well too. :)
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