Fear and worrying in Alaska
posted in Family, Illnesses, Injuries, Livestock and Pets, OmegaGranny, OmegaMom, Wah |It has been a bad few days.
A few days ago, I noticed the dawg wasn’t eating much, or drinking much. Then yesterday a.m., early, the dawg started barfing. And barfing. And barfing. And soon, there was nothing to barf up…but he was thirsty. And he couldn’t keep that down, either. At which point, dawg-worrying became intense enough to have us call the vet.
The dawg doesn’t like vets, so we needed both OmegaDad and myself to be there to calm the pup down for an exam. Then x-rays. Then blood work. Then shots (an anti-emetic and an acid suppressor). Then instructions to wait until evening, then try him on water, then white rice & boiled chicken this a.m.
We walked out having spent $380. Ack!
The dawg stopped barfing for a bit. Then we tried him on water later that night, which he slurped right down.
And then promptly threw right up again.
All through the night, the same thing: drink water, throw it up.
So we called the vet again this a.m., and the vet said it was time for the barium x-rays: fill the dawg with a barium-spiked fluid and trace the movement to see where the blockage was. So I schlepped the pup off to the vet again, and dropped him off, with an estimate of another $300. Ack!
Two hours later, the vet calls, saying that the barium didn’t move more than an inch beyond the end of his tummy, and the only thing to do was exploratory surgery, and here’s the estimate: $1000 to $2000. ACK! ACK, ACK, double ACK!
At which point, the qualms start. Ooookay, we’re talking serious bucks here. Ooookay; if it were the dotter, we wouldn’t be balking at the cost, but scrambling to find ways to cover it. Ooookay; there are people in the U.S. who need that money to get health care. Ooookay; a dawg is worth it/a dawg is not worth it. Oookay; there are people who would think we were nuts to even think of paying for it. Ooookay, there are people who would think we were cruel and horrible for even thinking of not paying for it. Ooookay; we don’t have the extra bucks right now, but we will have them when our PFD check comes through in two weeks–and yeah, we wanted to buy some toys with the money, but isn’t Kai worth it?
Et cetera.
It was a very odd feeling.
The end result: A “Care Credit” card, a credit card offered for paying for vet bills. You can apply over the phone. Oh, goody. Just what we need…
So we signed and the dawg went in for surgery, OmegaDad and I went out to lunch, and then I went home.
To be confronted with a message on our phone from a friend of my mother’s saying “She’s ALL RIGHT, but your mother is in the hospital, just released from the ICU, and here’s the phone number…”
Oh, shit.
Two days of ongoing worry were suddenly replaced with frantic panic.
Talking to my mom, and then talking to her doctor, reassured me (currently). Seems she went in for day-surgery for a blockage in her leg; all went well. She stayed with her friend for the night, and in the night, her leg and foot started hurting. She couldn’t sleep, she couldn’t go out for her regular weekly breakfast with her buds, so she finally called the doc and asked is this was normal. He immediately told her to hie herself off to the emergency room. When she got there, the ER folk all panicked about her heart flutter and kept talking about how she needed a pacemaker right now. Her doc finally got them straightened out on that (she has had the flutter for quite a while, and has a “strong heart” according to two cardiologists aside from the flutter), but she was admitted to ICU for observation and testing. While she was there, some bloodwork came back indicating she might have internal bleeding, but everything else was okay; they moved her out of ICU into PCU (?!) and decided to keep her for another day or two.
The end result: I have been on the phone now to fifty kazillion people for hours. (I tried calling my Unka Bill in Australia, but when I got through, he couldn’t hear me, so I had to email him [Unka Bill, check your email!].) Our finances are in a holding pattern. I’m tired. I want my mommy. My mommy wants her camera and a laptop because she’s bored out of her gourd…
Oh, yeah, and mom’s friend says that she’s due to go back for roto-rootering of her other leg in 10 days…
Oh, yeah, and I finally talked to the vet’s nurse, who said that the surgery took longer than expected (that means more $$), they had to take out a piece of the dawg’s intestine, and there was a blockage which looked to be the knotted end of a rope chew toy. At which point, I was amazed: we haven’t given the dawg a rope chew toy for more than a year, when this incident happened. The nurse scoffed. She said it wasn’t possible. Well, I can tell you that we removed the dawg’s chew toys that very afternoon, May 17, 2008, and haven’t given him one since, and he’s not allowed out unless we’re with him…sooo…where’d the chew toy come from if it hasn’t been sitting in his stomach since then???
Wah.
