I'm really not sure that I want to document this. I know it's a should. I cried. Maxine cried. Our doctor and her assistant gave us time alone with Cassie at various stages of this. I left the room, afraid to see her die, and then I came back in before it happened. Cassie went to sleep. The meds worked easily and comfortably. Life sucks. This sucked. She drifted off. Her life force, barely there when we arrived, is gone. She's standing on the table before the doctor comes in, shivering. We know her -- we know she's afraid. Does she know that soon she'll be no more. I'm sad typing this. We've been through this before with Ally, and the doctor said the same thing, that she didn't fight the meds. We wonder did we wait a day too long. Was she pacing all morning, and several times bumping into furniture, because she was in pain? She never really understood pain because we protected her so much from it. She hurt her paw w/in the last year and held it up as if to say, "I don't understand". A couple days ago she was limping. She's our daughter and we don't want her to feel pain and we'll move lots of mountains to prevent it. We know this is best for her despite (how selfish this sounds) how much it hurts us. When Ally died I went home and got drunk and passed out and woke up and Cassie was there, the same as she'd been for the past 5 years. Not this time, no dog remaining. This is the first time in 22 years that we aren't going to have a dog hanging out somewhere in the house. We leave the vet's office and Maxine asks if I'm OK to drive, I say yes, then prove her point by coming to a stop before we leave the parking lot and hitting my hand on the steering wheel and crying. For a time after Ally I wouldn't drive past the vet's office. Cassie doesn't leak body fluids onto the towel. Maxine stays behind a minute to thank the vet and gets a hug. I'm facing away from their office, my full body leaning against the car. As I left I did not catch anyone's eye. I hate this.
We come home and get drunk. Me 10 oz of good rum and Maxine 6 oz of margaritas. We neither pass out. We tell stories to each other about Cassie and laugh some and cry lots...
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
At the Doctor's office
We call before we leave for the office -- we don't want to wait in the waiting room, teary eyed and knowing that at any moment an exam room door could open and we'd be called in to witness our dog being put to sleep. We're told to arrive 10 minutes late, and we do, and we're escorted directly in. I sense then, and later (more in a couple parags) that the staff are averting their eyes because they know why we're there. It must be difficult for them, especially when they know that the dog-parents were particularly attentive. And we've tried over the years to charm the staff there because we feel that we rely so much on them.
We're waiting in the exam room. There's a brown towel on the otherwise stainless table. Is it for cleanup if body fluids leak out? Or to humanize the last moments of a dog's life? Both?
We're as teary as we can be. We say goodbye's and more goodbyes. I put Cassie up onto the exam table and we pet her and comfort her. Eventually the vet and assistant come in. We explain why we're doing this now, and as importantly for us, why we accelerated it by one day. Our vet says that "we were waiting for a sign and now she's given it to us." We agree. There's a form I need to sign that says we're doing this for humane reasons. Humane is the only word I read on the form, I just sign it.
Earlier in the day we'd paid the charge by phone so as to not have to sign paperwork while we were there mourning our dog.
It's explained to us that the first shot just puts her to sleep, on the level that would make it possible for the doctor to do minor surgery. I speak up to point out that with Cassie used to phenobarbital (which I'd read is what they use to actually kill the dog) that the dose should be higher.
The doctor explains that after she's asleep she won't know that we're there and we can stay or leave at that point. And that the second shot, which has to go into a vein, will be the final one. And that 1/100 dogs find that it stings and there's a discomfort reaction of some sort.
And that when she dies her eyes will not close, that that's not a common dog reaction on death.
We nod our agreement. The sadness of those moments choke me up 1 1/2 weeks later. I want to run screaming out of the room, to grab Cassie and take her and say "no no", but it's unrealistic to do so. Our dog is in pain and death is peace...
We're waiting in the exam room. There's a brown towel on the otherwise stainless table. Is it for cleanup if body fluids leak out? Or to humanize the last moments of a dog's life? Both?
We're as teary as we can be. We say goodbye's and more goodbyes. I put Cassie up onto the exam table and we pet her and comfort her. Eventually the vet and assistant come in. We explain why we're doing this now, and as importantly for us, why we accelerated it by one day. Our vet says that "we were waiting for a sign and now she's given it to us." We agree. There's a form I need to sign that says we're doing this for humane reasons. Humane is the only word I read on the form, I just sign it.
Earlier in the day we'd paid the charge by phone so as to not have to sign paperwork while we were there mourning our dog.
It's explained to us that the first shot just puts her to sleep, on the level that would make it possible for the doctor to do minor surgery. I speak up to point out that with Cassie used to phenobarbital (which I'd read is what they use to actually kill the dog) that the dose should be higher.
The doctor explains that after she's asleep she won't know that we're there and we can stay or leave at that point. And that the second shot, which has to go into a vein, will be the final one. And that 1/100 dogs find that it stings and there's a discomfort reaction of some sort.
And that when she dies her eyes will not close, that that's not a common dog reaction on death.
We nod our agreement. The sadness of those moments choke me up 1 1/2 weeks later. I want to run screaming out of the room, to grab Cassie and take her and say "no no", but it's unrealistic to do so. Our dog is in pain and death is peace...
Saturday, September 3, 2011
The end (during the day)
Not surprisingly this story does not have a happy ending. My last text post was on Thursday, August 25th. Cassie is at the end of her days. She's tired. We're tired. We're crying so much our eyes sting. I put a post up on Facebook about Cassie's impending death and get 27 responses. That makes me sad too.
We spend the day with her sleeping. We go to sleep, worrying about Saturday coming up. We get jumpy every time we hear her move in the laundry room, where we have her sleeping. We get up to find that once more she's simply peed in her sleep, the urine leaking out of her.
It's obvious Friday morning that she isn't feeling well. Our cleaning lady is coming over and we make plans that Maxine and I will spend the day in my office, with Cassie and towels all over the floor -- the same as Ally's last days. Cassie walks from spot to spot, almost frenetic. Twice she goes under my desk and bumps her head. She's never done that. She walks behind the futon sofa a couple times, again something she's never done. Her only respite, and ours from worrying about her, is when she's sleeping or staring off into space laying down.
At various times we try to be near her. We touch her, we lay next to her, we pet her, we kiss her, and we murmer words of love that we hope she'll hear in her heart. It's very obvious that this is the end and that she is in a lot of discomfort. At some point, around 10(?) I can't take watching her this way and knowing that our appointment isn't for 24 hours. I propose to Maxine that today be the end, and tearily, we both agree. I call the vet and the tech says they're fully booked up. I prevail on her to ask the doctor and she comes back on the phone with 2 choices for this afternoon. I take the earlier one, 3:15
We continue to spend the day desperately trying to exude love so that Cassie can feel it completely in her being as we wait for the hour to arrive. At various times we become aware of milestones, like "Cassie has only 2 more hours to live." It's both tedious and more painful than anything else could be. I tell Maxine that this hurts more than losing either of my parents.
We count down the minutes. Around 1:30 we realize that our cleaning lady is getting ready to leave and Maxine goes out to see her, to thank her for spotting the original seizure and taking our little dog to the vet in the first place. She asks to come in and say her goodbyes. She kneels down and pets Cassie on the butt, then gets up and leaves. Maxine can see her crying as she goes.
Months earlier her daughter had told me that her mother was crying when she came home the day of the original seizure. Cassie isn't always an easy companion or a quiet one, but she's a permanence, an presence we're all always aware of. And, that's coming to an end...
We spend the day with her sleeping. We go to sleep, worrying about Saturday coming up. We get jumpy every time we hear her move in the laundry room, where we have her sleeping. We get up to find that once more she's simply peed in her sleep, the urine leaking out of her.
It's obvious Friday morning that she isn't feeling well. Our cleaning lady is coming over and we make plans that Maxine and I will spend the day in my office, with Cassie and towels all over the floor -- the same as Ally's last days. Cassie walks from spot to spot, almost frenetic. Twice she goes under my desk and bumps her head. She's never done that. She walks behind the futon sofa a couple times, again something she's never done. Her only respite, and ours from worrying about her, is when she's sleeping or staring off into space laying down.
At various times we try to be near her. We touch her, we lay next to her, we pet her, we kiss her, and we murmer words of love that we hope she'll hear in her heart. It's very obvious that this is the end and that she is in a lot of discomfort. At some point, around 10(?) I can't take watching her this way and knowing that our appointment isn't for 24 hours. I propose to Maxine that today be the end, and tearily, we both agree. I call the vet and the tech says they're fully booked up. I prevail on her to ask the doctor and she comes back on the phone with 2 choices for this afternoon. I take the earlier one, 3:15
We continue to spend the day desperately trying to exude love so that Cassie can feel it completely in her being as we wait for the hour to arrive. At various times we become aware of milestones, like "Cassie has only 2 more hours to live." It's both tedious and more painful than anything else could be. I tell Maxine that this hurts more than losing either of my parents.
We count down the minutes. Around 1:30 we realize that our cleaning lady is getting ready to leave and Maxine goes out to see her, to thank her for spotting the original seizure and taking our little dog to the vet in the first place. She asks to come in and say her goodbyes. She kneels down and pets Cassie on the butt, then gets up and leaves. Maxine can see her crying as she goes.
Months earlier her daughter had told me that her mother was crying when she came home the day of the original seizure. Cassie isn't always an easy companion or a quiet one, but she's a permanence, an presence we're all always aware of. And, that's coming to an end...
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Really, the Last Days of a Dog
I just got off the phone with the vet's office, having scheduled Cassie to be put to sleep at 12:15 on Saturday. If she hadn't gotten the tumor that's the day we would have all been flying to Paris... It's just under 48 hours from now...
I'm not sure how to survive it. I can see her eyes looking at me as I type this right now. She's exhausted. Can barely walk around. Doing so gets her so tired. The exercise, or life, is so much for her that she sleeps most of the time.
Yesterday afternoon she came into my office from Maxine's, where she'd been sleeping. She was wobbly, meaning she didn't have that much control over any of her legs. Her left rear leg was limping. She was walking rapidly and erratically, not clear what she was looking for. At one point she walked past my computer stand(more later, she just got up to drink water).
She drank about 75 gulps (lots for the old Cassie and not too much for the new, steroid influenced one). Walked around the room a bit, then went back to lay down. This time 1/2 on the towels and 1/2 off, so I put a towel under her butt.
So, she walked past the computer stand, to the walk, then amoung the wires. She was clearly confused. She'd NEVER done that before. This is about the 5th (or more) time when she's plainly been confused about where she is, or where she was going.
Twitchy. I wasn't sure if she was about to have a seizure or, as I've later come to think, had just had some sort of neurological event tied to her tumor. I took her outside for bathrooming and called Maxine, who was getting gas then on her way to Target. Turned around and came home.
I made the mistake of situating Cassie in my office, so she laid there from 4 to 8pm. We assumed that she was asleep but might have just been tired and dazed.
Lots of crying on our part. I'd thought I was ready for this since we've been preparing for it for nearly 6 months, but no, the sadness is still there.
Time, lots of it, laying on the floor next to her. Around 9 we're worried that she's so out of it that we won't be able to give her her evening pills, which would really increase the risk that she would have a seizure through that...
Around 10 we ask her to come out and she does, but lays down on the grass.
We debate how we're going to sleep with her. The two choices are to put her between us on the floor, between the twin beds. Or, to put her in her long-time crate, in the bedroom (she's previously had the crate and full use of the laundry room, adjacent to our bedroom. We chose the crate because we think we'll probably sleep better, be able to touch each other in the night, and because it's a place she's completely used to.
We go to bed thinking that we'll be putting her to sleep in the morning. I dream about getting put on hold at Dr. H's, and of not remembering her phone number. Some of the time I think that the area code is 973, which of course was my parents'.....
Some movement in the night, but not much. In the morningI have to pull her towel out of the crate, with her on it, to get her to move. Maxine is cradling her head. Then she gets up!
She does some walking around, we spend 2 hours with her in the family room, on the floor, and conclude that we can't do it today. The neurological damage, evidenced by the walking, has lessened. And she seems much more aware of who we are and where we are. I head off to the gym.
Coming home from the gym, I'm thinking (of course) about all of this. Seems to me that we're propping up 'the meat'. The body is there, but not the spirit. We can get her to eat and drink and poop, but not to follow us around. At best we can pick her up, or entreat her to follow us, and plant her somewhere that we plan to be. Then she's there for hours (was under Maxine's desk for the entire 2+ hours I was at the gym, and then lunch). So, it seems to me that we're keeping her alive because we're relucant to say goodbye, rather than with any hope that she'll rally to become our dog again.
I come up with an idea. With Ally we'd had several days notice that she was going to be put to sleep. It had to be scheduled because Maxine was working. (With neither of us working, we do worry that we can wallow in the sadness and pity and loneliness of all of this sad event). Cassie is on her last legs, or so we think. But why not give her 2 days to prove us wrong. She can rest up for Thursday and Friday and it she's recovering then we're more than willing to do her part. But if she remains a piece of meat that is struggling to keep up because she's expected to, then no. Especially because of the inevitability of the tumor.
So, I've just made the appointment with the vet. And paid for it so that we can simply leave when we're done. Cause we'll be sad. I know it.....
I'm not sure how to survive it. I can see her eyes looking at me as I type this right now. She's exhausted. Can barely walk around. Doing so gets her so tired. The exercise, or life, is so much for her that she sleeps most of the time.
Yesterday afternoon she came into my office from Maxine's, where she'd been sleeping. She was wobbly, meaning she didn't have that much control over any of her legs. Her left rear leg was limping. She was walking rapidly and erratically, not clear what she was looking for. At one point she walked past my computer stand(more later, she just got up to drink water).
She drank about 75 gulps (lots for the old Cassie and not too much for the new, steroid influenced one). Walked around the room a bit, then went back to lay down. This time 1/2 on the towels and 1/2 off, so I put a towel under her butt.
So, she walked past the computer stand, to the walk, then amoung the wires. She was clearly confused. She'd NEVER done that before. This is about the 5th (or more) time when she's plainly been confused about where she is, or where she was going.
Twitchy. I wasn't sure if she was about to have a seizure or, as I've later come to think, had just had some sort of neurological event tied to her tumor. I took her outside for bathrooming and called Maxine, who was getting gas then on her way to Target. Turned around and came home.
I made the mistake of situating Cassie in my office, so she laid there from 4 to 8pm. We assumed that she was asleep but might have just been tired and dazed.
Lots of crying on our part. I'd thought I was ready for this since we've been preparing for it for nearly 6 months, but no, the sadness is still there.
Time, lots of it, laying on the floor next to her. Around 9 we're worried that she's so out of it that we won't be able to give her her evening pills, which would really increase the risk that she would have a seizure through that...
Around 10 we ask her to come out and she does, but lays down on the grass.
We debate how we're going to sleep with her. The two choices are to put her between us on the floor, between the twin beds. Or, to put her in her long-time crate, in the bedroom (she's previously had the crate and full use of the laundry room, adjacent to our bedroom. We chose the crate because we think we'll probably sleep better, be able to touch each other in the night, and because it's a place she's completely used to.
We go to bed thinking that we'll be putting her to sleep in the morning. I dream about getting put on hold at Dr. H's, and of not remembering her phone number. Some of the time I think that the area code is 973, which of course was my parents'.....
Some movement in the night, but not much. In the morningI have to pull her towel out of the crate, with her on it, to get her to move. Maxine is cradling her head. Then she gets up!
She does some walking around, we spend 2 hours with her in the family room, on the floor, and conclude that we can't do it today. The neurological damage, evidenced by the walking, has lessened. And she seems much more aware of who we are and where we are. I head off to the gym.
Coming home from the gym, I'm thinking (of course) about all of this. Seems to me that we're propping up 'the meat'. The body is there, but not the spirit. We can get her to eat and drink and poop, but not to follow us around. At best we can pick her up, or entreat her to follow us, and plant her somewhere that we plan to be. Then she's there for hours (was under Maxine's desk for the entire 2+ hours I was at the gym, and then lunch). So, it seems to me that we're keeping her alive because we're relucant to say goodbye, rather than with any hope that she'll rally to become our dog again.
I come up with an idea. With Ally we'd had several days notice that she was going to be put to sleep. It had to be scheduled because Maxine was working. (With neither of us working, we do worry that we can wallow in the sadness and pity and loneliness of all of this sad event). Cassie is on her last legs, or so we think. But why not give her 2 days to prove us wrong. She can rest up for Thursday and Friday and it she's recovering then we're more than willing to do her part. But if she remains a piece of meat that is struggling to keep up because she's expected to, then no. Especially because of the inevitability of the tumor.
So, I've just made the appointment with the vet. And paid for it so that we can simply leave when we're done. Cause we'll be sad. I know it.....
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Only a couple days later and I'm writing again.
Yesterday, Tuesday, Cassie had the longest seizure and recovery to date. Funny how optimism changes to heartache in an afternoon.
This was her longest stretch, probably since this whole thing started in Feb, without a seizure. We attribute it to getting the drugs mix right, adding Keppra at a dosage that she could handle which also had theraputic effects. And maybe it was, or maybe it was the randomness of this illness. Anyway, we went 43 days without a seizure and sinxe her May 21st one, the next longest stretch had been 18 days. Who knows, other than that we've been incredibly appreciative that she was so stable, for such a long time that we'd been inching regular stuff back into our lives.
We'd actually talked about doing something 'fun' today, but she taught us that that shouldn't be in the cards...
The seizure itself was 3 1/2 minutes, the longest. And so was the recovery, of one hour and 20 minutes. I was home alone and that felt the worst, wondering if she was in some sort of coma that she wasn't going to come out of. During the seizure you're too busy comforting her and saying things like, "It's OK". But, you are saving a bit of mindspace to wonder if this might be the seizure that she never comes out of. In fact, as this continued on longer and longer, I wondered if I would need to call Maxine and get her to come home (she was at an ESC thing).
After a difficult conversation with our neighbors in the morning, and then this, I worked out and then just wanted to drink. Three margaritas and a grazing dinner with stuff Maxine picked up at TJ's. We listened to Buffett and he mentioned that he was going to be in Paris in a month and we both felt incredibly sad... But we also knew/know that we're as good a set of dog parents as anyone could be, giving up business class tickets, 3 months in a 1000 sq ft apartment, and tickets to the concert -- all for love of a dog who's been so loyal and such a part of our life these past 12 years...
Yesterday, Tuesday, Cassie had the longest seizure and recovery to date. Funny how optimism changes to heartache in an afternoon.
This was her longest stretch, probably since this whole thing started in Feb, without a seizure. We attribute it to getting the drugs mix right, adding Keppra at a dosage that she could handle which also had theraputic effects. And maybe it was, or maybe it was the randomness of this illness. Anyway, we went 43 days without a seizure and sinxe her May 21st one, the next longest stretch had been 18 days. Who knows, other than that we've been incredibly appreciative that she was so stable, for such a long time that we'd been inching regular stuff back into our lives.
We'd actually talked about doing something 'fun' today, but she taught us that that shouldn't be in the cards...
The seizure itself was 3 1/2 minutes, the longest. And so was the recovery, of one hour and 20 minutes. I was home alone and that felt the worst, wondering if she was in some sort of coma that she wasn't going to come out of. During the seizure you're too busy comforting her and saying things like, "It's OK". But, you are saving a bit of mindspace to wonder if this might be the seizure that she never comes out of. In fact, as this continued on longer and longer, I wondered if I would need to call Maxine and get her to come home (she was at an ESC thing).
After a difficult conversation with our neighbors in the morning, and then this, I worked out and then just wanted to drink. Three margaritas and a grazing dinner with stuff Maxine picked up at TJ's. We listened to Buffett and he mentioned that he was going to be in Paris in a month and we both felt incredibly sad... But we also knew/know that we're as good a set of dog parents as anyone could be, giving up business class tickets, 3 months in a 1000 sq ft apartment, and tickets to the concert -- all for love of a dog who's been so loyal and such a part of our life these past 12 years...
Monday, August 22, 2011
"Cassie is OK"
Every phone call between Maxine and I begins with the caller, if he/she is calling from home, begins that way...
Friday, August 19, 2011
Friday August 19th
She's still very lethargic. Wednesday Maxine was very worried that the end was near, but Thursday she perked up again and we could "see the Cassie in her eyes". And when we do, we know that it would be unjustified to put her to sleep. As far as we can tell, she's not in pain. We are, but only in the sense that Cassie's demise is coming, whether in the next hour or 2 months from now.
At the start of the week I was optomistically saying things like, it wasn't inconceivable that Cassie would be alive for Thanksgiving. But, now we aren't nearly as sure. We wonder will it be August or September (giving us the chance to get out of town in October --- as disloyal as that sounds). We make no plans; even evenings out are limited. And most days one of us is at home with her. I'm sure that in the nearly 6 months since this began, she hasn't been alone for more than 60 hours, if that.
She's starting to leak again, 4 times in 3 days by the end of Thursday. Maxine wanted to take her back in to the vet to see if the bladder infection has returned. Some slight leaking today and complete resistance to peeing (does she even feel the urge to urinate? is she aware she's leaking?). So, testing at 3:30 today. Results early next week. Either way, not good news. If she doesn't have another bladder infection, is she worn out from the tumor or whatever it is doing to her? Or, if it is an infection, how will she react to taking the antibiotics again, since they make her not want to eat.
And (!) we've had a couple days now of her not wanting to eat much, if at all. This morning, to try and get some food in her, Maxine put down 1)the normal kibbles, 2)a scrambled egg, 3)white rice, 4)cottage cheese. She ate some of the cheese and egg, but not nearly a full helping. We're not sure what to do. And I'm reminded of the days before my father died, when he lost his appetite. I subsequently read that that happens when the body shuts down, realizing that it just doesn't need the food to sustain. I, and Maxine worry that Cassie might be saying the same thing....
At the start of the week I was optomistically saying things like, it wasn't inconceivable that Cassie would be alive for Thanksgiving. But, now we aren't nearly as sure. We wonder will it be August or September (giving us the chance to get out of town in October --- as disloyal as that sounds). We make no plans; even evenings out are limited. And most days one of us is at home with her. I'm sure that in the nearly 6 months since this began, she hasn't been alone for more than 60 hours, if that.
She's starting to leak again, 4 times in 3 days by the end of Thursday. Maxine wanted to take her back in to the vet to see if the bladder infection has returned. Some slight leaking today and complete resistance to peeing (does she even feel the urge to urinate? is she aware she's leaking?). So, testing at 3:30 today. Results early next week. Either way, not good news. If she doesn't have another bladder infection, is she worn out from the tumor or whatever it is doing to her? Or, if it is an infection, how will she react to taking the antibiotics again, since they make her not want to eat.
And (!) we've had a couple days now of her not wanting to eat much, if at all. This morning, to try and get some food in her, Maxine put down 1)the normal kibbles, 2)a scrambled egg, 3)white rice, 4)cottage cheese. She ate some of the cheese and egg, but not nearly a full helping. We're not sure what to do. And I'm reminded of the days before my father died, when he lost his appetite. I subsequently read that that happens when the body shuts down, realizing that it just doesn't need the food to sustain. I, and Maxine worry that Cassie might be saying the same thing....
Monday, August 15, 2011
Aug 15th
Things continue... She's been lethargic yesterday and today, but aside from one (next) issue, there have been very few signs of the tumor having an effect on her.
Twice she's walked past my computer stand and gotten to the wall (or near it) and stood there, apparently confused about how to get out and frozen.
She wakes us up around 6 each morning to go to the bathroom.
We skipped the NJ reunion trip this past weekend. I didn't want to go to NJ for just a weekend (not worth the $, etc.) and I didn't want to go longer and worry that Cassie might get sick/have a seizure/etc and me not be able to say goodbye. And, also, dumping the whole thing on Maxine.
We want to plan trips for the fall but feel that it would be disloyal to Cassie. Plus, there's a non-trivial chance based on history that she will still be alive in the fall. (Dare I say it, through Thanksgiving?)...
Twice she's walked past my computer stand and gotten to the wall (or near it) and stood there, apparently confused about how to get out and frozen.
She wakes us up around 6 each morning to go to the bathroom.
We skipped the NJ reunion trip this past weekend. I didn't want to go to NJ for just a weekend (not worth the $, etc.) and I didn't want to go longer and worry that Cassie might get sick/have a seizure/etc and me not be able to say goodbye. And, also, dumping the whole thing on Maxine.
We want to plan trips for the fall but feel that it would be disloyal to Cassie. Plus, there's a non-trivial chance based on history that she will still be alive in the fall. (Dare I say it, through Thanksgiving?)...
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Now August 9th and Cassie's doing great
We are perhaps a bit more enthusiastic than we should be. But, we've had a number of good to great days now. The Keppra has been working for 4 weeks + 1 day (yes, I know that that can come to an end at any time). She's off the antibiotics (so her appetite is back, including begging for food). And she seems more normal than she's seemed in a long time.
We wonder to what degree the bladder infection was hurting her and slowing her down, but the latest test results (yesterday, Monday) say it's gone.
She's been doing her intervention when there's any tension between Maxine and me.
She does a trot to get to food or treats.
She goes out by herself to go to the bathroom.
And, the stock market has collapsed. This last one matters because we'd have been heading to Paris in 2+ weeks if Cassie hadn't gotten sick. So, in a sense Cassie is keeping us from a lot of tension and stress over money (ie. could we afford the trip).
I know it can end at end time, but, for now we like having our dog with us!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Last text post was July 31st, it's now August 4th
And Cassie has survived her visitors! Yes, I think of it as survived. They left today around noon and she spent the rest of the day, till around 6pm, exhausted and sleeping. Maxine took her outside at one point to go to the bathroom and she laid down on the grass -- something Cassie had never done before and Ally did the day we had to take her to the emergency room.
Cassie snapped at the kids 5-6 times while they were here. I don't feel good about that. She's always been great around kids, and the younger the better. But no longer. The 2 1/2 year old leaves pretty much afraid of Cassie. The 5 and the 13 year old understand things, but still. If Cassie's situation were anything "other than a brain tumor", I'd be a LOT less tolerant of the behaviour. Instead, I'm looking and the calendar and know that there is no other occasion on our calendar, in any scenario of Cassie's lifespan, where she will have to deal with people on this level again.
Cassie barked at me 3-4 times while they were here. So, I'm also worried that either she was simply confused in the commotion, or has had some amount of brain damage. Not really so good in either case.
Maxine had her doubts about Cassie's life today, but, as usual the dog surprises us with her "I'm not dead yet" attitude...
Tomorrow tests to see if we've knocked out the bladder infection. She still leaks some, especially if we aren't somewhat rigorous in keeping her to an "out" schedule, but we're reluctant to add new meds to her life. She gets pills 4x/day at this point.
Not trying to jinx things, but Monday night (past) marked 21 days since her last seizure, and it's now Thursday. That's the longest stretch since the start of May, at the least...
Cassie snapped at the kids 5-6 times while they were here. I don't feel good about that. She's always been great around kids, and the younger the better. But no longer. The 2 1/2 year old leaves pretty much afraid of Cassie. The 5 and the 13 year old understand things, but still. If Cassie's situation were anything "other than a brain tumor", I'd be a LOT less tolerant of the behaviour. Instead, I'm looking and the calendar and know that there is no other occasion on our calendar, in any scenario of Cassie's lifespan, where she will have to deal with people on this level again.
Cassie barked at me 3-4 times while they were here. So, I'm also worried that either she was simply confused in the commotion, or has had some amount of brain damage. Not really so good in either case.
Maxine had her doubts about Cassie's life today, but, as usual the dog surprises us with her "I'm not dead yet" attitude...
Tomorrow tests to see if we've knocked out the bladder infection. She still leaks some, especially if we aren't somewhat rigorous in keeping her to an "out" schedule, but we're reluctant to add new meds to her life. She gets pills 4x/day at this point.
Not trying to jinx things, but Monday night (past) marked 21 days since her last seizure, and it's now Thursday. That's the longest stretch since the start of May, at the least...
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)