Sunday
Barb wakes up with a severe migraine. She's vomiting every 5-10 minutes. Go to the emergency room and get her pumped full of anti-nausea / anti-migraine drugs (which, coincidentally, are sometimes the same thing!). We made it to the ER before the post-church rush, so we got in quickly. This is one of the worst ones I've seen her go through.
Barb in the ER after being pumped full of migraine meds. The lights are off, so you might not be able to see very well...
Monday
It's a pretty quiet day. I have the day off work and we lay low so Barb can rest. Tar (Barb's horse) is starting to look bad. The previous Thursday we had the dentist out to remove two teeth, one of which was infected. The infection went into the sinuses. It appears the infection is getting worse.Tuesday
Tar is very bad. The infection has gone septic. Tar is 37 years old. There's really nothing else we can do for the old guy. He lets her know that it's his time. Barb fulfills her promise to him that she won't let him suffer and calls the vet to put him down. The vet agrees that we've done everything we can.We decide to put him down in the hay field. The vet brings out a sedative and two 60cc syringes full of anesthetic. We walk him out to the spot, stopping along the way to eat some grass because like Barb, he's a pain in the ass, even up to the end. The vet administers the sedative and waits a few minutes. She injects the needle into an artery in the neck and injects both syringes as quickly as she can. Within seconds he goes quietly. Surprisingly, Tar going down didn't upset me as much as the sound did. It wasn't the sound of him hitting the ground that haunted me, but that last, power exhale as he died. The experience of euthanasia is part of owning a horse, but I really hope I don't have to repeat it anytime soon.
Wednesday
Barb has another migraine. Again, it hits her like a ton of bricks, first thing in the morning. No warning, no nothing. Her medicine doesn't appear to be working, so I stay home to take her to the doctor's office. The doctor is concerned because the nature of the headaches has changed. He orders an MRI and prescribes a new medicine. It's January 19th and we've just blown through our annual deductible for our high deductible insurance. Thank goodness I maxed out my HSA the last two years and still have a little left over.Just as we're going to bed, Rubgy (our old cat) pukes for the umteenth time. Barb decides to take her in to the vet tomorrow.
Thursday
I actually get to go to work! Woo hoo! It commences to snow like a son-of-a-bitch. The drive in sucks. I'm sure the drive home will be worse. Just as I'm pulling into the garage my service vehicle soon light comes on. Perfect.Barb calls: Rubgy has a stomach tumor. They don't know much, but it looks bad. They have to check to see if the tumor has metastasized and do bloodwork to see if surgery is even an option. I go to meetings. I'm a little behind because I've been out all week and we've been dealing with the Tar situation for a while. I get some actual work done since my best friend is out sick. I don't want her to be sick, but I definitely get more done for her not being there.
Barb calls again: It looks bad, they're going to do more test, but won't know until they come in if it's even worth trying. FUCK! I leave work to try to get home before they have to put her down. We go to visit Rugby at the vet office. Just as we're leaving the doctor calls. The MRI looks good. Thank God!
Rugby is the most affectionate she's ever been. She's not a fan of the vet office, and us being there seems to calm her down. The tests won't be back until Friday, so we wait and see.
Barb gives Rugby some attention before her surgery
Friday
Tests come in for Rugby: they look good, but they won't know for sure until they get in and check. Barb used to work at the vet office so they let us come into the surgery area and hold her while she goes under. We stay and watch the surgery, which was surprisingly cool. It was really fascinating, save the fact that it's our cat they're operating on. The sedated bloodhound that just got his paw patched up provides comic relief.Head up.... thunk.... head up.... thunk.... wrap yourself up in the leash.... thunk.
Poor Rugby hasn't peed the entire time she's been in the office (she's stubborn like her mom) and her bladder is very, very full. Other than that it looks almost hopeful. The tumor is on the lower part of the stomach and a small piece of the pancreas will have to be removed. Were it not for the pancreas the prognosis would be great. The doctor convinces Barb to go ahead and try. If we can get her thorough the first few days she'll have a pretty good prognosis.
To see picture of the tumor (I don't want to gross you out!) click here
The doctors want Rugby at home, because she's very stressed at the vet office. The first few hours are sketchy. She's wound up and hurting. She tries to jump on the counter, but doesn't have the strength so she rubs her sore belly on it. The stitches stay put, but she gets blood everywhere. We decide to move her into the bedroom where she's more comfortable. True to Rugby style, she's eating like a champ.
Rugby after her surgery
Rugby is forced to wear the cone of shame, while Barb keeps her comfortable. If you look to the left that orange blur is 5-toe jumping up on the couch (the living room is very dark, so it took a long exposure)
Saturday
Rugby is feeling better. We blocked off the kitty door in the bedroom and she slept with us. She's eating like a competitive eater (the way she always does) and looking relaxed. Crossing our fingers for small miracles. Small, very expensive miracles...| Next > |
|---|
