FINDING MYSELF

Traditionally mothers are supposed to be strong, bold, brave, and never sick. If that's what you've been told, you've been misinformed. Because they aren't. They just don't talk about it. However they may SHOW IT, particularly if a fever is involved; a fever that makes my legs go dead and the rest of me feel "woozy". When this happens, regular life, if such exists, goes into "shutdown" mode and when things get done, they may be done wrong. Such was the start of the month of October, 2008, but by itself my illness didn't account for all the problems. I am a human who can assess problems and take medications. I know when I hurt. But when my little dog Skittles is in pain, he cannot tell me. I must rely on my veterinarian to assess his difficulties and treat them. And this month Skittles had surgery to remove the suspicious lumps on his skin that have been there for so long. His situation cast a pall on my entire life.

In mid-September we finally got an evening appointment for the dogs with our veterinarian. He checked each one over carefully and also noticed the lumps on Skittles. He didn't know what they were then, but he said he would remove them. At that point nothing would be done until November, but some logistical changes allowed the surgery date to be moved up to October 3rd. My husband brought him in, hoping to assist with or at least watch the procedure, but the vet doing the cutting urged him to go home and wait for the phone when he was finished. Later that day a groggy, wobbly Skittles came home in my husband's arms. He had four large incisions on his back and sides that had been carefully stitched closed. A bottle of antibiotic pills came with him to be administered twice daily. We learned over time that the dogs would swallow ANYTHING that was put into peanut butter!

When the time came to have his stitches removed, my husband went alone to the vet's. He came home with pads and other things and instructions to keep the wounds clean and not try to pick on the scabs. The biggest surgical location was to be kept clean by being wrapped in a special gauze tape. When my husband left for work that morning it was up to me to tend the wound. Unfortunately I was distracted by something and misunderstood what he said. I over-wrapped a spot that didn't need it and it began to separate again. Tuesday we will see the vet again for the final check-up, and my husband thinks he will have to restitch the area that opened up. But if there is any good news coming from all of this it is that the biopsy taken of the largest lump showed no malignancy. Now we simply have to wait for everything to completely heal and be thankful that our precious Skittles is OK.

The prescription is now completely done which means that the pills to prevent heartworm and other problems can be administered (in peanut butter, of course) and I can rest easier about my beloved pets' health. The dogs love riding in the car, and we must remember to take them for rides just for fun. The cats, however, have a less favorable attitude. For them, a ride in the car means in a cat carrier. From the moment the car starts, the noise starts as well. First it is a low moaning. Then it escalates to a determined "meow". Finally they are at full scream volume and we are ready to scream too. Fortunately, the handlers at the vet's enjoy their work and our cats are soon purring. This is fortunate because they are all due for various shots and treatments. Even though they do not go outside, they must be protected against whatever flies or crawls in the door or comes in on the dogs' coats. All three are receiving individual love and attention which, as cats, they more than deserve. They receive the necessary shots and that means that they will sleep soundly at night.

Watching out for my pets' health is similar to what I did for my children when they were little. They have had shots, examinations, medications, and more. Except that the children never had hair balls!

October, In Passing