Simple Pleasures

It has been five days since Julie's last blood test and I'm delighted to say that she's still with us. Every day more and more of Julie's personality shines through which makes it easier to focus on daily routines and other happy things. Like Bruce feeding Julie animal crackers.


And giving her lots of love when the animal crackers are all gone. (Maybe they were consoling each other.)

On Thursday she goes in for another blood test to check her packed cell volume. I'm expecting it to be lower than before, but perhaps I will be pleasantly surprised. A few days ago, I was sure that she wouldn't live as long as Thursday. And she may not, but I seem to have new hope. Here she is dozing in a defiant patch of sunlight that belies the winter chill.

By Thursday our little sun worshipper will have run out of meds. It could be that the steroids have been keeping her eating and drinking. That could be a big part of what is keeping her alive. We don't know how much longer she will be with us so we're taking it day by day. Each day is a gift.

As content as she is for the simple pleasure of warm sun on her face, I am grateful for every moment we have left to spend with her. We love you Julie, Julie.

Julie Update & Joop Forever

Julie's latest blood test results showed a rise in red blood cell count from 13 to 14. That's good news, right?

Well yes, but the doctor was quite discouraged. You see, her PCV (packed cell volume) count should have been significantly higher by now. One point isn't enough to hang your hopes on.

There could be a sneaky cancer lurking somewhere unseen that is affecting her bone marrow's ability to generate new red blood cells, or a red blood cell parasite could be the culprit or something that didn't present itself in previous tests.

The doctor recommended we send Julie to a specialist for bone marrow testing and a sonogram. Quite frankly, we can't afford these tests. Even if they found the cause, we've spent all our available funds getting her this far. Julie must either rally on her own using the meds she has or die. It chokes me up.

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UPDATE: I guess it is not God's will for Julie to rebound from this life-threatening crisis.

Julie's full blood panel & CBC (complete blood count) results have come back from the lab: PCV is 12.5 (remember that this number should be between 35-55 for normal dogs). There appears to be no bone marrow stimulus; i.e. no evidence of reticulocytes (or "retics" - precursors to red blood cells) being generated.
This is grave, grave news for Julie.

Her liver and kidneys do not appear to be damaged, which is a blessing. The doctors are not prescribing her any more medications and are not recommending a second transfusion. When her current meds run out her stability should deteriorate.
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I stumbled across this page as I was processing the above information: All Pets Go to Heaven
[Warning: If you tend to tear up easily, grab the Kleenex box now.]

It reminded me of a riveting photoblog from a few years ago about a Dutch dog named Joop whose owner lovingly chronicled his life in a daily dog log. Joop had a huge following. I sat at my desk and sobbed the day he died. I'm sure I was not alone.

Check out Joops's incredible photos on Flikr, then catch up with his owner Henk's latest pet projects. It's good stuff.

Coulda-Bin Calamity (The Tortellini Affair)

Picture this:
Bruce corralled in the dog pen. Healthy dog confined in the powder room. Sick dog thrashing about like a suffocating fish. Me holding onto sick dog's snout with both hands to keep medication in her mouth. Healthy dog slips out of confinement and snarfs remaining med-laced treats out of bowl. Me frantic, calling the emergency number at the animal hospital.

*ring.ring* "Hello?"

"Yes, my healthy dog just swallowed medication intended for my sick dog. Do I need to pump her stomach?"

[Snip a few seconds of conversation where I detail the name and dosage of meds, describe the tasty tortellini in which it was disguised, and the visual imagery above.]

*audible giggles* Ahem, I don't think it will do her any harm. Let me put you on hold while I double check to be sure."

*pregnant pause* (during which time I'm convinced the doctor is laughing hysterically.)

"Hello? Yes, your dog will be fine. That amount of the drug will not harm her. Just be sure to steer clear of contagious areas for the remainder of the day. I wouldn't take her to the dog park, for instance, since her immune system will be a bit suppressed."

"Thank you, doctor. Goodbye"

This is the crowning event of a morning spent trying to force-feed Julie, my sick dog, her meds.

At 5:00 p.m. we take Julie in for more bloodwork. In my little corner of the world it is snowing, with a layer of rain turning to ice on top of the snow. Businesses are shutting down right and left due to "bad weather" and people are fighting traffic on the "bad roads" to get home.

In reality the weather is not bad at all. It's actually quite picturesque. But because of all the over-stressed, maniacal drivers that can't fathom slowing down for a fraction of a second, it is not the optimal driving situation to take your pet or your family out in. But we desperately need the information this PCV test will provide so we can discuss next steps. So we go.

Please God, let there be an improvement in the red blood cell count.

Congratulations, Chick!

Congratulations to That Chick Over There's blog for being nominated for a Blogger's Choice Award! ("Hottest Mommy Blogger")
Check her out! I love reading her blog.

Julie Update & "Know your s--t".

Julie had her blood work done yesterday and the results were:
no change



Her red blood cell count is still 13 and there is no evidence that her RBCs are regenerating. Since she is eating, drinking and eliminating well [← euphemism alert!], the doctors recommended we take her home, continue her bland diet and cocktail of medicines, and bring her back in three days for another blood test.

Every situation has a lighter side, and I was amused when the doctor sent home a fecal scoring (a.k.a. poop) chart to help us more accurately report Julie's eliminations to the doctor.

Mr. Ridiculous has dubbed the photocopied chart the CRAPCON scale and posted it proudly by the back door. It was too fuzzy to post (you didn't REALLY want to see it anyway) so for any hardcore crapheads I offer up instead this link to "the best poo story ever."

If you clicked on the link above, it took you to a website called (I'm not kidding about this.) poopreport.com. It just goes to show (yet again) that there really are No Boundaries on the Internet. What intrigued and repulsed me about poopreport.com (enough to write about it) was that they named their marketplace "buttplugs." Eww.

One last bit of randomness. Since I used a euphemism I felt it only fair to include a perplexing (but I can't look away) Euphemism Generator Let me know if the euphemisms make sense to you.

Bringing Julie home

We just checked on Julie's condition and there is no significant change. So I will recap what we know so far.

Julie is being treated for Immune Mediated Hemolytic Anemia - her immune system is attacking (prematurely destroying) her red blood cells faster than her bone marrow can produce new cells. Red blood cells carry oxygen from the lungs to all other tissues in the body, so Julie's body is starving for oxygen.

So far tests have revealed no underlying cause for Julie's body to be attacking its own red blood cells. But since there has been no sign of her bone marrow kicking in to generate new red blood cells since her transfusion and drug treatments, the doctors are recommending sending her to a specialist for a sonogram (for a closer look at her organs -- maybe there is cancer lurking somewhere that the x-rays couldn't detect) and a bone marrow test. Both of these tests are expensive and won't necessarily get us the answers we need.

We've made the extremely painful decision to bring Julie home, even though her condition has not been stabilized. We would like to continue giving her fluids and immuno-suppressant medicines through the weekend in the hope that her bone marrow may still kick in and start generating new red blood cells to replace the destroyed ones. But if she doesn't respond to this treatment we will have to make the painful decision to put her to sleep.

Words fail me to adequately express how bereft I am (we all are) about our dear, sweet Julie. She's only 5 1/2 years old. She's only lived half her life. She's not in any pain, but severely fatigued, dazed and confused. She's one of my babies and she's probably not going to survive more than a few weeks. She wants to come home, so we're bringing her home.

This is immensely hard for me. Emotionally. I don't want her to die. I don't want to see her die. There is nothing I can do to help her except make her feel comfortable and loved.

People have said to me that I am obsessively devoted to my pets. To me they are my children. (They were my children before I had children, which is not so uncommon.) They've said that once I have children of my own I will view my pets differently. I can categorically say, without a shadow of a doubt, that I do not feel differently about my pets. I still love them with my whole heart. (Well, maybe not so much the Molly fish in the fishtank. But I digress.)

They ARE my children.

"Welcome to Married Life," Part 1

As a kid I used to laugh about the expression, "Stop the world! I want to get off!" It just sounded absurd. But it sums up nicely how I feel about the emotional rollercoaster of my life this week.

OK, it also sums up how I feel about married life in general.

But before I start sucking lemons, there is one bright spot:

The Good News - First Tooth
What's this? Yessirree, a tiny, white tooth is beginning to poke through Bruce's lower gumline. Hurray! And whew, finally. Bruce's first little nipper is located in the lower front. He's having quite a fun time trying it out, even though it has barely risen more than a millimeter or two into view. And he is wasting no time learning to "take bites."

Now it's just a waiting game for the other 19 baby whites to appear.

The Bad News - A Gravely Ill Pet
Three days ago we noticed a startling change in our dear, sweet dog Julie. She had been lounging in the bed pretty much all day (which isn't all that unusual, since it is her absolute fav-o-rite place to be) and we had a hard time coaxing her downstairs. We called her down for supper and when she finally managed to descend the stairs she was very unsteady on her feet and looked dazed.

I rushed her to the vet to find that she was acutely anemic. The underside of her ears and her gums were a deathly white. How could I not have noticed that before? They took some blood for a sample and ran x-rays and advised us to rush her over to an emergency care clinic for a life-saving transfusion.

MORE TO COME

Yesterday Bruce had his 11th month-iversary. Only 29 days and counting until his first birthday!

With Julie's condition playing heavily into our daily routines, I've scrapped all brainstorming for party themes. We'll invite friends and family over to have cake, celebrate and of course take lots of pictures.

"These are the times that try men's souls."

Thomas Paine had no idea how well his words would apply to my life today. If only Pampers really did come with a poo gauge!


I know that diapers, particularly the extremely objectionable ones, are a topic that most folks prefer NOT to hear about. But since this is what I've spent my day dealing with, one disgusting diaper change after another, I've decided to share this joy with the blogosphere. Thank me now for not including actual photos.

Here is a link to another blog that uses baby diapers to describe the local air quality in their little corner of the world: Project M

Rotting catfish would smell sweet compared to the four (and counting) freakish desecrations of decency I have changed today.

What makes it all the more trying is that I am coming down with the latest plague that is circulating up and down the eastern seaboard. Everyone I have talked to has this same bug. My husband came down with it around Christmas Eve. Bruce caught it from him. And I've been fighting to stave it off, but today had my first really sore throat and low energy day.

We moms (wow, did I type that?) know that when we get sick the kids still need to be fed, changed, carted around and picked up after. A clingy, teething, sick kid's diarhea diapers were just too much for me to handle today. Oh, and so far still no tooth!

11:00 p.m. update: Still no tooth. And about an hour ago Bruce's breathing became so labored that he actually couldn't catch his breath. It was frightening! We rushed him into the bathroom and threw the shower into highest steam mode. And sat, stood, anything we could to keep him occupied while he breathed in the steam. It took the better part of a half hour before his airway loosened up enough for him to cough. So Bruce will be sleeping in mommy's arms tonight so she can monitor his breathing up close and personal.

New Year, New Word!

New Year's Day was eventful chez Bruce because he said a new word.
**Drum roll, please**

Baby!

That's right, he said "baby." We've been told the "b" words come first, so once again my brilliant Bruce is following the baby development playbook like a champ. Way to go, little man o' mine!

Baby Signs at Last!

Bruce gave us a great gift this Christmas! He started using baby signs.

We started teaching him baby signs when he was 5 1/2 months old to give him a way to communicate without whining or crying. Not surprisingly, his first sign is "milk," but now that we've caught on to him actually using them, we're noticing more signs, like "all done," and "down."

And we have noticed that he is more eager to use baby signs now that mommy and daddy actually understand what he's trying to tell us.