My dad and I drove separately to the vet, since he had business to attend to when we were done, so I led the way. Thankfully, the drive there is super easy. You drive straight down one street for 60+ blocks, make a right, and then just a few blocks later you're there. Et voila!
We went in and I told the receptionist we were there to see Pepper. She called back and Dad and I waited in the lobby. This was the longest we'd had to wait yet, but there seemed to be a pretty good reason. Instead of us going back to see Pepper, they brought Pepper out to us.
When Hubby and I had visited the night before, we took Pepper outside on a walk. (OK, we just wandered around the lawn, but still.) He was fairly stable, but still a little wobbly, so I was pretty excited when the vet tech walked my little man out to us on a leash!
They had us go into a room with a big leather sofa and lots of boxes of tissues (I'm guessing it doubles as the bad news room, or maybe even the euthanasia room...). My biggest surprise of the day came when I sat on the couch and my little man jumped right up after me. What?! This dog couldn't even stand long enough to eat less than 48 hours ago, and now he's jumping up on the couch like it's nothing! Is this the right dog?
We waited for the vet for awhile. She popped her head in to let us know it would be another 5 minutes, and we waited some more. My dad never sat. He just stood there, ready to take on whatever or whomever he had to. I'm so thankful he was there.
Anywhoozles, the vet finally came in and started talking to us. If I had written this sooner, I could tell you more about the conversation, but here's what I remember.
She told us that since they had started him back on the thyroid medication the night before, he had had 2 doses and already she could see a difference in him. Why hadn't we seen it before? Possibly because of the heart meds he had been on at the time. According to this vet (who we'll call Dr. L), everyone was so worried about his heart disease and murmur that we kind of let the thyroid issue take a back seat. But in her opinion, the hypothyroidism is the more pressing of the two issues and should be the focus of our medical attention.
My other surprise of the day was when Dr. L asked what I wanted to do. Did I want to keep him there or take him home. She said if it was her dog, she'd be taking him home. My first reaction was to ask if he was in any pain. If he was in pain and needed more medical attention, then that would have been a factor in my decision. But she said no (YAY!), so I told her I wanted to take him home. She told us she'd have his IV taken out and he'd be cleaned up (hospital policy that all pets get a bath before leaving).
That's when my dad stepped in. As I said, he didn't sit the whole time we were there. He asked a few questions, made a few comments, but was mostly just this presence in the room that gave vibes of "don't mess with my daughter" (or maybe that was just my imagination). At this point he asked about the money, because the figured he had heard were "shocking" for a dog toward the end of his lifetime. Dr. L went to check, and as it turned out we were still within the original estimate. I don't know if the $2700 was a misunderstanding or what, but I was incredibly relieved to see a number under $2k.
The best part of that day was walking my little man to the car, having him hop into the backseat (by himself!), and driving him home. My family had been incomplete while he was gone. Even Maxine could feel it and wasn't 100% herself. Bringing him home made everything right again.
Showing posts with label vet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vet. Show all posts
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Thursday, August 28, 2014
The Pepper Predicament - Part 3: Pepper's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
After calling our regular vet to confirm they were closed for the night, we hopped in the car and headed to the local 24-hour emergency vet (which, thankfully, is about a 10 minute drive from our house). We'd caught someone at our vet's office before they left for the day, so they were able to fax over Pepper's medical history while we were on our way.
It didn't take long before we were in an exam room. A vet tech came and took care of all the normal stuff: temperature, weight, all that jazz. My perception of time is all out of whack, but I don't think it was very long after that before the vet came in. He checked Pepper over, asked us to tell him what happened (which we had already told the receptionist and the vet tech, so we were pretty good at getting all the details out by then). By this point, Pepper was so lethargic and weak that he was simply lying on the exam table, barely lifting his head. It took everything in me not to start bawling.
We learned a few things right away. The first was that the vet believed Pepper's heart murmur was at a grade 4 or 5. Now, grading heart murmurs can be pretty subjective and it obviously varies by vet, but the last we knew he was at a 2 or 3 so that kind of hit me like a truck. The other thing we learned was that they were going to keep Pepper... for 2 or more days. I HATED the idea of him being away from us, but I also understood the importance of monitoring him and keeping him safe.
One thing that kept resulting in perplexed looks and confusion was that Pepper hadn't been vomiting or had any nasty shits since getting into the garbage. We admitted that we had been surprised by that as well, and no one was sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.
We were given a rundown of the tests he would undergo: x-rays and ultrasounds to check for blockages, an echo to see how his heart is doing, etc. He would be put on an IV right away to keep him hydrated, and they would be keeping him in an area that has someone on duty 24 hours a day. They offered to take us on a tour of the facility, which we gladly took them up on. They showed up where Pepper would get his testing done, where he would be sleeping, where the other animals would be... I was glad to see that he would have plenty of space (the crate he had there was bigger than the one he shares with Maxine) and that someone would be there to check in on him. After a lot of fussing and near breakdowns, we left our little man in their hands.
They told us we could call or come over to check on him whenever we wanted. We started taking advantage of that the next morning. I had a dentist appointment that morning (yay cavity) and was originally supposed to work before and after, but with my baby in the hospital, I wasn't able to concentrate on anything else. I got through my dentist appointment, got back home, and asked Hubby what he'd learned. The truth was that there wasn't much to know yet. They had done the echo and the x-rays, but hadn't found anything conclusive. They said he had been walking fine when they took him out around 3 that morning, and again around 8, but that when they walked him at 10 he had regressed, and was back to being unsteady and uncoordinated. They decided that the next step was an ultrasound, but after that they were pretty much out of ideas. They suggested we consider seeing a neurologist.
What Hubby said at that point about killed me. "Putting him down is starting to look like a real possibility."
I wasn't ready to accept that. I called my mom and talked to her for awhile. She helped calm me down and after talking about things, I decided to go the vet to visit. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I have reservations about driving in Milwaukee. Hubby drives me damn near everywhere I need to go, and driving in the city makes my anxiety jump through the roof. I'd already had to drive myself to the dentist that morning, and here I was about to drive to the vet. I wish Pepper could understand how much I love him. I was not just willing to drive to see him, I was determined to. You couldn't have stopped me. Because if putting him down was even an option, I was going to spend as MUCH time with him as possible.
I spent an hour with him that afternoon. They put a blanket on the floor for me to sit on, and they opened the crate so I could get close to him. I talked to him. I pet him. I kissed him and hugged him. He was still so lethargic, I could hardly believe he was my little man.
They stopped by to draw blood from him at one point. He was slightly more alert after that (probably because they had taken him from the comfort of his blankies), but not much. He perked up a bit when he heard another dog getting fed, and they told me that he had been eating while he was there, which is always a good sign. I left reluctantly (only because I knew we'd be back later), and managed not to cry until I got into my car.
Hubby and I came back that evening to talk to the vet. Little had changed, but we were going to try something new. We were going to put him back on the thyroid medication (the stuff we had tried in June for a couple of weeks), because it appeared clear to the vet that the thyroid issues were the predominant concern at the moment. After spending some more time with Pepper, we left, hoping the morning would bring some better news.
To be continued...
It didn't take long before we were in an exam room. A vet tech came and took care of all the normal stuff: temperature, weight, all that jazz. My perception of time is all out of whack, but I don't think it was very long after that before the vet came in. He checked Pepper over, asked us to tell him what happened (which we had already told the receptionist and the vet tech, so we were pretty good at getting all the details out by then). By this point, Pepper was so lethargic and weak that he was simply lying on the exam table, barely lifting his head. It took everything in me not to start bawling.
We learned a few things right away. The first was that the vet believed Pepper's heart murmur was at a grade 4 or 5. Now, grading heart murmurs can be pretty subjective and it obviously varies by vet, but the last we knew he was at a 2 or 3 so that kind of hit me like a truck. The other thing we learned was that they were going to keep Pepper... for 2 or more days. I HATED the idea of him being away from us, but I also understood the importance of monitoring him and keeping him safe.
One thing that kept resulting in perplexed looks and confusion was that Pepper hadn't been vomiting or had any nasty shits since getting into the garbage. We admitted that we had been surprised by that as well, and no one was sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.
We were given a rundown of the tests he would undergo: x-rays and ultrasounds to check for blockages, an echo to see how his heart is doing, etc. He would be put on an IV right away to keep him hydrated, and they would be keeping him in an area that has someone on duty 24 hours a day. They offered to take us on a tour of the facility, which we gladly took them up on. They showed up where Pepper would get his testing done, where he would be sleeping, where the other animals would be... I was glad to see that he would have plenty of space (the crate he had there was bigger than the one he shares with Maxine) and that someone would be there to check in on him. After a lot of fussing and near breakdowns, we left our little man in their hands.
They told us we could call or come over to check on him whenever we wanted. We started taking advantage of that the next morning. I had a dentist appointment that morning (yay cavity) and was originally supposed to work before and after, but with my baby in the hospital, I wasn't able to concentrate on anything else. I got through my dentist appointment, got back home, and asked Hubby what he'd learned. The truth was that there wasn't much to know yet. They had done the echo and the x-rays, but hadn't found anything conclusive. They said he had been walking fine when they took him out around 3 that morning, and again around 8, but that when they walked him at 10 he had regressed, and was back to being unsteady and uncoordinated. They decided that the next step was an ultrasound, but after that they were pretty much out of ideas. They suggested we consider seeing a neurologist.
What Hubby said at that point about killed me. "Putting him down is starting to look like a real possibility."
I wasn't ready to accept that. I called my mom and talked to her for awhile. She helped calm me down and after talking about things, I decided to go the vet to visit. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I have reservations about driving in Milwaukee. Hubby drives me damn near everywhere I need to go, and driving in the city makes my anxiety jump through the roof. I'd already had to drive myself to the dentist that morning, and here I was about to drive to the vet. I wish Pepper could understand how much I love him. I was not just willing to drive to see him, I was determined to. You couldn't have stopped me. Because if putting him down was even an option, I was going to spend as MUCH time with him as possible.
I spent an hour with him that afternoon. They put a blanket on the floor for me to sit on, and they opened the crate so I could get close to him. I talked to him. I pet him. I kissed him and hugged him. He was still so lethargic, I could hardly believe he was my little man.
Hubby and I came back that evening to talk to the vet. Little had changed, but we were going to try something new. We were going to put him back on the thyroid medication (the stuff we had tried in June for a couple of weeks), because it appeared clear to the vet that the thyroid issues were the predominant concern at the moment. After spending some more time with Pepper, we left, hoping the morning would bring some better news.
To be continued...
Monday, January 9, 2012
Poor Maxine McPupperkins or Why My Dog May Never Trust Again
Well, my dears, 2012 has started off less than spectacularly.
On or just after Christmas, I noticed a tickle in my throat. For the next week, I'd wake up in the morning with a little pain as well. Nothing too bad and it went away after breakfast, so whatever. Just around the 2nd of the month, I started having random coughs. Then by the 4th, I had some sniffles. I begged this cold to just manifest itself so we could all move on with our lives.
Careful what you wish for. On the 6th, it started going downhill, and I spent the majority of my weekend miserable and/or asleep. Then, I woke up this morning feeling so shitty, I had to call in sick. I work from home, so you know it's bad when I have to call in. I couldn't focus on anything, I was barely coherent, and I'm reasonably certain that even if I managed to function enough to survive the workday, I would probably have to re-do a good portion of it tomorrow anyway (you know, so it would actually make sense).
But enough about me. This post is primarily about my poor puppers. As a warning, things are going to get a little gross. If you don't want to read on, I totally understand. If you read the rest of this, and then say, "Oh, man! WTF, Erika?" just remember that you have no one to blame but yourself.
My dog has a hole in her butt.
OK, that seems obvious, but it's not. Let me rephrase. My dog has an EXTRA hole in her butt. Better?
On Thursday the 5th I was giving Maxi her monthly meds (heartworm pill and flea/tick application). To do the flea/tick stuff, I always sit on the couch, turn her around so her back is to me, and apply the stuff. (For anyone who doesn't know, this type of flea and tick repellent has to be applied along her back, from her neck down to where her tail meets her body.) It can take awhile sometimes, depending on how long ago she last visited the groomer's. She's fairly fluffy right now, but it wasn't too bad.
Anywhoozles, I had noticed her looking a little uncomfortable earlier, and, trying to be a good puppy mama, I lifted up her tail to check out her bum. Many people are unaware, but dogs (and some other mammals) have these little sacs/glands near their anus. The cliff's note version goes something like this:
Dogs produce a secretion that tells other dogs who they are, what they are, etc (thus the whole bum-sniffing ritual). This same secretion can also be used to mark their territory, warning other dogs to back off. This secretion comes from the anal glands, which usually empty when a dog does his or her business, but can also empty randomly (like, if the dog's super stressed).
Unfortunately, sometimes the glands don't empty themselves. At the very first vet appointment after we adopted Maxine, the vet expressed Maxi's glands for her. The smell is putrid. I can't even liken it to anything. If you've never smelled it, count your lucky stars. Anyway, that was back in late 2009, and hadn't been an issue since.
Until last week, when I was looking at her bum going, "Huh... It looks swollen." So, I told Hubby to make a vet appointment for us asap. He wasn't working on Friday, so he made her an appointment for the afternoon. Excellent. I knew she'd need to be expressed, and I was fairly relieved I wouldn't have to be there.
After work, it's almost impossible to do anything without letting Maxine out first. Thursday wasn't like that. "Outside?" I asked her. Nothing. Not good. "Outside, Maxine?" She managed to get up and out of her crate, but then scooted her butt all the way from her crate to the kitchen. This isn't a long distance, mind you, but she has to do a u-turn in the process, so it's a few feet. She wouldn't listen to me when I told her no, so, fine. Away we went.
When she came inside, I decided to be extra careful and I cleaned her up with a baby wipe (she had been getting a rash in the fall, and the vet had suggested baby wipes, so, why not?). And then I freaked out. There was blood on the wipe. I ran to my computer and left Hubby a message. Then I called him and left a voicemail. THEN I texted him and left ANOTHER message. Yes, this was a full-on Riki freakout.
To Google I went, looking up everything I could possibly think of, reading every page I could find. Best I could tell, she had an abscess that had burst, but that didn't make me feel any better. Called Hubby again and finally got a hold of him. He called the vet and we rescheduled for that evening, just about an hour from our call. So, I got dressed, poured Maxi some dinner, and waited. She wouldn't eat. I tried hand feeding her, and she wouldn't take anything. Uggggggh. I was scared out of my mind.
When we finally got to the vet, they tried to tempt her with some canned food (Maxine gets dry food at home) as a treat, but she was completely uninterested. In fact, she actually turned away from it. She always takes treats, even at the vet, so this was a new concept for us. Maxi not hungry? What?
The vet confirmed my suspicion of an abscess resulting from an impacted anal gland, and walked us through what that meant and what we would have to do to take care of her. Essentially, all that fluid builds up in the sac, and if it isn't released in the normal way, it finds another way: it bursts through the skin. Thus, my puppers has an extra hole in her butt. For now, anyway.
Twice a day we have to give her meds and apply ointment in the hole. Yep. In it. Not on it. IN it. Assuming it heals properly, we should be done with this in about a week or so. But if it doesn't heal properly, we're SOL and we get to start the whole thing over again. Joy.
On the plus side, the vet did say that we were lucky it burst today. If it hadn't, the only option would've been to put her under and lance it, which would've been way more expensive than just the shot and meds. I guess that's good, right? He also said it was really good that we got her in that night, so thank goodness for an awesome hubby and an awesome vet!
As soon as we got home, she ate her dinner. Vet said she probably just didn't want to eat because of the pain (and a mild fever), and I don't blame her, but I was so glad she had her appetite back so quickly. She's still not back to her normal, playful self, but she seems to be getting better every day (or, so we hope). Sure, there are some blood stains in the back seat of my car (you should've seen the splattering she did at the vet's office!) and on some towels and her sofa bed, but it's a small price to pay for her to feel better.
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