“O” no, not again…
I have not blogged much this week and I apologize it has nothing to do with falling off the food wagon or making bad choices, but more to do with a little bad luck!
I sit looking at this screen trying to figure out the order of events that have occurred since Sunday, it’s a bit of a game of twister in my head and lack of sleep makes the giant colored dots swirl together each day bleeding into the next, but here goes.
Sunday– It is my standing swim date in the morning with Charmaine, then a quick stop at the grocery store before I am back home to the dogs. I unlock the back door knowing Maggie will be barking her head off as she is my own personal welcome wagon you can hear a block away. She get so excited and so disgusted if she is not the first one that gets a scratch, a pat or a kiss.
There is no Maggie, no greeting, but there is a pool of blood in the kitchen, something is very wrong. I walk further into the house and there is more blood and vomit almost everywhere I look. In the front room is where I find Maggie with Tristan curled up next to him tucked safely against his side, he looks up with a very worried look on his face. Maggie is clearly sick, weak and it scares me. I try not to panic. My mom is in church so I start calling numbers, I pick up my phone and practically hit redial to whoever I talked to last. It was Sarah, good. I got voicemail. I called Shera (co-founder) of Recycled Doggies who is so kind and calming and would tell me what to do…
“Call Dr. O”
The affectionate name given to Dr. Stephanie Ogburn, who many of us have come to know as the” rock star” of vets in our little rescue world and beyond Until this episode, I had never even met this woman face to face, but feel connect to her through her love of animals. She was the Doctor who took out Maggie’s fish hook and her bladder stone when she was know by the name “Flo” at a different time in her life, just when she was saved by Recycled Doggies and before she came into my life. Dr. O has helped me with Tristan time and time again, never hesitating to answer my questions, concerns or fears no matter how silly they may be. She is the only vet I will trust with Tristan and his sweet, scared, gentle soul.
I frantically dial, and I don’t remember much from the conversation except “Go ahead and get her to the ER”. Sarah calls, she is there if I need her to be and I would have taken her up on it in a split second but my mom calls and is coming home from church to go with me. Off we go with Maggie wrapped in her pink and grey flannel blanket. There is more blood at the ER, and she is admitted and diagnosed with HGE.
When I arrived home without Tristan, he was beside himself. He would not settle and spent much of the time pacing and looking for her, finally settled himself by desperately squeezing the top part of his frame in her little bed, the majority of him outside the bed laying on the hardwood floor. He has such a tender heart.
Monday– I pick Maggie up at 7:ooam and take her to Dr. O’s office for more observation and treatment.Monday after work Sarah who has been so supportive through the chaos meets me at the office and we get Maggie checked out and in the car for her ride back home. It is a sweet reunion between Tully and Tristan (who almost wiggled right out of his behind) he was so happy to see his sister he kissed her so hard her left ear was plastered on top of her head!
Tuesday– Maggie is on the mend, she is acting like her old self , eating a little and slept soundly snoring like a truck driver most of the night.
Wednesday /Thursday morning– I notice Tully has a little bit of an upset belly, but don’t give it too much thought, I should have known better, Fast forward to 2:30am, Tully jumps out of bed and is vomiting over and over for one hour. (Maggie who had been sleeping soundly is totally disgusted with all the ruckus). He becomes more restless, then he begins panting. I feel his belly, it is rock hard and he cried when I touched it. Now here is the point where as a dog owner you are kinda screwed because you know that there is a chance it is just a bad bellyache or bug, or that he ate something he should not have. This is also the point that you know your dog the best and the $125 bucks they charge you just for looking in the direction of the ER is the best money you will ever spend because your suffering dog can’t tell you what is wrong. A harmless bug, a case of serious bloat or the potential deadly HGE. In the end I look at those chocolate drop eyes that trust me, make me laugh, show me unconditional love unwavering even by my own shortcomings… and we are off in perfect fashion the the ER yet again. My sweet mother who has drug herself out of bed, Rod Stewart hair everywhere, no socks, no makeup is standing outside in front of her house. Oh the things this woman has done for me, as she gets in and as Tully settles in his grandma’s lap moaning, uncomfortable and panting, I tell myself one final time that it is the right thing to do.
The doctor on call that night left his beside manners at home along with sensible shoes, he had on the most uncomfortable looking shoes which may be why he seemed so cranky. He ran through the motions leaving little room for conversation and the Q & A portion of the evening was nonexistent. We left with Tully so drugged up he could hardly walk. Needless to say he did sleep and so did I… 45 glorious minutes as I got to bed (aka the couch) at 5:30am my alarm went off at 6:15am because today is Thursday and I always leave early to get weighed. I turn over and shut off the alarm on my phone and think about sleeping in and blowing it off. There is Tristan on the side of the couch with his ice cold bingo dobber nose poking me to get up, his face is just about the only thing that could possibly make me think about getting up. Next think I know I am carrying Tully outside to go potty, it is cold out and I turn to get shoes which takes all of 30 seconds in the time I am gone Tully has laid down on a rock and is snoring. I want some of those drugs!!
I leave for Dr. Beiter’s office and my mom comes over to sit with Tully. I am already at work when I get the call…”He is bleeding and it is a lot”, okay at this point I realize that I have to call Dr. O, and explain to her that while one schnauzer is on the rebound, another schnauzer is down for the count. Is she gonna think I am some freaky dog “Munchausen by proxy syndrome” person.
I dial, she answers…..”you’re not gonna believe this….”
Not only does she believe it she tells me to bring Tully to her and she will take a look at him. Once more we are one the road with a schnauzer and a mother and the worry of not knowing what the heck is wrong with my dog. We arrive and are welcomed by the amazingly kind receptionist who is so nice she makes you feel like family, and by the end of the visit I want to invite her over for Sunday dinner! Such a special thing when people really care.
Thursday night– Dr. O, is the best, and I know there are many, many people that agree. She is kind, she listens, she explains, she asks questions and in the end she does what is best for both owner and beloved pet. She gets it, she doesn’t judge you or your fears or anxiety and because of that you don’t feel like an overprotective parent when your pets get ill hesitating to call her. Maggie, Tristan and Tully are all resting tonight next to me after a day of meds and xrays for Tully he is on the mend. I could not be happier that all the four legged sweeties in my house are feeling better.