It is what it is: taking it a day at a time

Shem’s been living the high life: he gets to be hand fed raw liver and ground buffalo, he gets to drink out of the toilet, he gets to hang out under Boo’s desk and sleep on the floor of the bathroom. He wandered outside in the shade this morning, and then soaked up some sun on the porch.

Myrna, the Canaan breeder in Israel confirmed what we already know – that they are strong, resilient dogs, and some of them have survived despite impossible odds. Also, that when their time is upon them, they will let us know by withdrawing, refusing to drink or eat, and by being unresponsive to stimulus.

Shem is not yet at that point.

What we do know is that the transfusion he received two days ago still buoys his systems and that he may well begin a dramatic decline soon. Bob and I stagger through all the stages of grief, stopping at denial a fair bit, but we’re clear this, right now, is temporary.

For now, it’s enough.

My darling husband is blaming himself for not being more suspicious of his changes post surgery, for not reacting quick enough when it was clear Shem was getting sicker. He hopes Shem will forgive him before he goes.  Bob also hopes to forgive himself.

Tomorrow, Bob will go to work, and I will tend Shem, feed him if he will take it, take him outside a few times a day to relieve what he overactive kidneys produce, keep him company and ponder whatever stage I’ve alighted to at that moment.

It is what it is.

Thank you all for your words of support and love; so, so much appreciated.

Breaking the News to the Girls

Shem’s other two family members are in camp for the summer.

Since our dog got very sick, we’ve had various discussions about how to tell the girls, and came to recognize there wasn’t any good way, just that it had to be done, and before we saw them in Ottawa in two weeks’ time. Ruling out waiting, writing letters with, at least from our perspective, gaping holes of truth in it where we’d burble about the weather, the garden, and not mention one of the hardest things we’ve ever had to face, was easy. We know they are among friends and a supportive community, that they have each other, that they could handle the knowledge.

So, Bob and I wrote an email (they can receive but not send) and then called the camp director to warn him and to ask they he deliver the printout himself. So, he and the head counselor, someone the girls love who is huggy and very empathetic, told the girls.

Hi Luvs,

Shem is very sick. We are doing everything possible for him, but it doesn’t look good.

He was in the veterinarian hospital  with a wonderful internal medicine specialist who was working with me (daddy, obviously) trying to figure out what’s going on.

It may be that he’s had a urinary infection since his surgery, or it might be a very exotic tick-borne disease or a genetic disorder, but whatever it is, his kidneys are no longer doing their job. We had him hooked up to IV antibiotics, and he got a blood transfusion last night, but it’s not helping much.

We brought him home this afternoon, and he got to pee everywhere, eat grass and lie on the warm driveway for a while before it started raining again.

He’s comfortable, and happy to be home, even eating a bit, but it’s not looking good.

We really struggled with whether to wait to tell you until Ottawa, but we decided we didn’t want to keep anything from you and suddenly shock you if things get worse and he passes. There’s nothing you could do if you were here – he’s really not even interactive right now.

The girls called last night and in tears, Monkey asked him they would get to see him. I answered (with my own tears hot and profuse) that I really didn’t think so.  The girls understand how grave a situation this is, but we didn’t get into too many details and told them to hug each other and that we love them.

We followed up that email with this detailed one, this morning.

It’s been quite the past few days. Sorry for not writing all week, but we didn’t want to tell you anything until we had more information. By now you know about Shem, and we may have spoken, so I’m updating you on everything.

I don’t know if it means anything beyond that he gets to be happy and comfortable until the end, but he’s clearly comfortable and happy. Mom does not want me to give you false hope, so she will be writing as well. She’s right though this time. The chances that he’ll make it are still very slim.

We spent an hour or so Thursday night with Shem at the hospital, where he looked HORRIBLE. His neck and face were all swollen from the IV catheter he had in his jugular that was also probably wrapped too tight.  I think it was actually some leakage from the Intravenous catheter into the tissue, but BOY was he swollen. I went in to sit with him, and he was barely there. Turned his head away from me after giving me a real “I’m SOOOO going to get you back for this” look

We sat with the internal medicine doc (Lee) and figured a plan of action, which was to give him a transfusion to bring up his red blood cells, and continue the antibiotics, and see how he was in the morning.

We spoke with the overnight emergency doc before bed, who was trying to subtly (he had been warned by the internal med doc about me) tell me that I should authorize him to give Shem pain killers. Was he in obvious distress? No, but he might be. I asked what med he wanted to give, and looked it up – DO NOT give if having respiratory difficulties or with kidney problems. Hmmmm, he’s severely anemic, meaning too few red blood cells to carry oxygen, and in kidney failure. Good Idea? Bad idea!  I called back and said no thanks.

We woke up Friday morning at 7am with a call from the same doc to let us know he was looking a little better after the transfusion. Good news.

Then we waited until 11 and spoke to Dr Lee who let us know that his lab tests weren’t better, and she didn’t think they could do anything for him. She suggested euthanizing him there, we of course, refused and said to take out all his tubes, and we were going to take him home.

We cried a lot.

And then we cried some more.

We had left Mom’s Rendezvous there, so Sphyrnatude drove us. We picked Shem up, and Mom drove while I sat next to him. Swelling is down and he looks like himself again.

Like a perfectly choreographed movie it actually stopped raining, the sun came out, and we got to pick snow peas while Shem walked around, and then lay on the driveway soaking in the sun. James came and he got up and went to him, tail wagging, to say hi. Then it started pouring again (while still sunny; I’m waiting for the rainbow), so we came in.

Since coming home he’s peed outside a bunch, and inside only once. Ahhhh, the sound of Mom yelling at Shem fills the house once more.

Now he’s laying on a blanket in front of the air conditioner, and just enjoyed some yummy raw liver from the chicken we’re making for dinner. After supper I’m going to go to the Market and get a whole mess o Liver for him. YUM!

And that’s the news with Shem. Whatever happens, and again it doesn’t look hopeful at this point, he’s here and getting to be in his territory and bark at his squirrels.

Ok, Mom now.  Hello, honey.
I won’t lie to you, this is among the hardest things I have ever had to do, and it’s enormously difficult to wrap my mind around how very, very sick Shem is, and the current reality of his being curled up on blankets under the window.  Whatever happens, we will be taking care of Shem until we…can’t any more. We’re clear that the chances of his getting better are extremely low, but for now, he’s drinking some out of the toilet, he’s eating (tiny amounts of) disgusting things like liver, and he’s around us.

Mostly, his kidneys aren’t working properly, his body isn’t processing protein – he’s peeing the protein out instead of keeping in his blood to nourish his body. He doesn’t seem to be in pain, but he’s not himself.

So, now you know. Hug each other for us.  Reality is pretty messed up to allow this sort of thing, but we as humans are constantly called upon to adapt to things outrageous and ridiculous, and this is one of them.

We will keep you both updated as to anything that is going on. We love you both so much. .

For now, we’re watching Shem, taking him out to pee, letting him sleep under Boo’s desk, where he loves to be.  I wish I knew what to expect, at what point to say to Bob, “Now, let’s call the vet to come over NOW: Shem’s ready.” But I don’t.  He’s clearly sliding, so I can’t imagine, given that the vets said he would be gone in a week if left untreated, that he would linger, but we’re not going to let it get to that point.

So, sometime soon.

He came to us 5 years ago, which hasn’t been long enough.  We’ve been blessed.

The important thing is that he is home, where he belongs, with us

Circle of life

We picked up Mr. Shem at the vet’s and he rode home in the back with Bob, who wept most of the way home. I drove and wiped my eyes on my sleeve.  Reality is seriously fucked up; suddenly, the world is a different color.  Puce, maybe?

The sun is out for the first time in weeks, and Shem is outside, curled up in the grass – and he actually ate some, no doubt in an attempt to feel better. Bob fed him some raw buffalo, which he ate, as well, but we know Shem will probably throw it up – his system is in rapid decline. That said, he took a bit of a cooked hamburger, nibbled a bit, then he buried the rest of it in the garden.  Normal and so not normal juxtaposed together.

We’re going to see how it goes and make decisions as to when as soon as things become clearer. For now, we’ve set up his crate in the living room and we’ll care for him until we can’t. We think. Not thinking too clearly at the moment.

Has any of you ever had to have to euthanize a pet at home?

Quick Hit: Shem isn’t going to make it

We’re having the euthanasia conversation now. It’s very sad, but there’s nothing more the vet can do.

Of Missing Signs and Hospitalized dogs

“He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.” — Anonymous

Shem is in renal failure. And we’re not entirely certain why.

He hasn’t been right since his neutering surgery. Not long after he recovered, he stopped peeing normally; sometimes he would take ten minutes before he would decide whatever bush or clump of grass was suitable to receive his emissions, and other times he would pee in the house. We knew something was wrong,  and even called our vet to ask if there could be any connection to the neutering and his odd behavior.

Our vet told us there was no way there was a connection. We’re kicking ourselves that we listened.

Two days ago, I took my damn-near emaciated, listless, vomit-prone, non-eating dog to that vet, where his belly was x-rayed, and his blood and urine tested. With the information that there was ” a lot of blood in his urine,’ the vet cautioned us that Shem had kidney disease, maybe cancer and that he needed a lot of fluid. I left him there that night for observation and for subcutaneous fluid treatment and the next morning, was told by Dr. Jim that he recommended I take my dog for an ultrasound to look at his kidneys, as it might be also be  diabetes, may leptospirosis.  Nothing like throwing worst case scenarios at people, eh? Of course I knew something was Very Wrong with my dog, but I didn’t accept jumping the gun until we had more information.  I paid $425, picked my now 39 pound dog up, and put him into the back of the SUV and drove in the pouring rain to the vetrinary referral hospital.

I sat and waited while he was scanned, and then, while Shem curled  up in to a tight ball on the floor under the table,  spoke to the radiologist tech as he explained that the kidneys were normal sized, and not infected, but that there was clearly another reason for his kidney failure. The Internist came along afterward and told me that he needed aggressive therapy, or he would be dead within a week. By the time Bob got there (in tears) at 6:15, tests revealed a UTI – urinary tract infection – which MAY explain his renal failure, if it had gone untreated long enough.  Like, since April 23, when he was catheterized to be neutered. I AM angry, but there still may more behind the renal failure, so we’re wating for the whole story, via tests, to emerge.

When Bob arrived, he and I had to wait 20 minutes until we could see our dog. While he wiped away tears and was silent, I talked about the rain, the decor, the tile, the whatever. HE looked at me oddly after a moment or two and then apologized, saying he knew I had been there all day hadn’t had a picnic of it. Yeah, while HE had had to be all professional doctor man and keep in his distress over the illness of his dog.  I’d already spent hours pacing, railing, talking to anyone who would listen, and worrying.  Then I started distracting myself. It was almost funny how differently we were coping.

So, what we do know is that as of this morning, he hasn’t vomited, has slightly less better levels, although he is still severely dehydrated and anemic, but is showing some small improvement. Classic  forest metaphor was employed in the explanation from the overnight doc: “not out of the woods,” but less bad than yesterday and that he’s holding his own.

So far, we’ve paid 31oo for his care, which is totally worth it, but freaksome. We’re hoping he’ll improve enough to be able to come home and be IV’d here, something Bob and I can rig up. It’s too soon to know, but we’re hopeful. He does need at least another ($900) day to see if the antibiotics worked, to monitor his blood levels, to wait and see if he’ll beat this.

Not as coherent as I would like to be, and now, I am headed to the hospital to sit with my boy. Erstwhile Bitey boy or not, he’s family.

Ten Things Tuesday

1. My daughterless house is very quiet. I KNOW my kids aren’t asleep upstairs, or reading on the couch or hanging out outside or at their friend’s houses, but I still THINK they are somewhere I can go and see them. This will fade in a few days, I also know.

For now, Bob and I can make a LOT of noise and act like teenagers.

2. Tonight, the lovely Chili girls will be staying at our house, filling it up with kids noises and giggling, which I very much look forward to.

3. Shem, my five-year old Canaan, has not been right since his surgery and lately, has been doing some worrying vomiting. This afternoon, I am taking my boy over to the vet for some blood work and some other tests to try and find out why he can’t keep food down every 30 hours or so, why he’s been peeing in the house and where my real dog it.  He has been drinking, eating some food, and eliminating, so there isn’t a blockage, but this non-thriving, yarking thing is very upsetting.

4. We’ve had 5 times more rain than is normal for this time of year and it’s seriously starting to piss me off.  I have been driving Bob a little bonkers complaining about it – HE can’t do a thing about the bloody ENGLISH weather we’re having, and it isn’t entirely his fault – but it’s enough already. Mostly, my garden is growing fat, healthy, slimey slugs.

5. Some damn rat on hooves came and had a much on my sunflower garden. I have some stubby, three-foot stalks remaining, but all is not lost; sunflowers recover beautifully and often put out branches when they do so. In the meantime, I have sprayed the nastiest concoction I could find, Deeroff, onto what remains and hope the little chuztpatic fucker comes back and then has to rub his tongue all over the ground to get the taste of rotting fish to go away.  My pal Sphyrnatude thinks I should pop off a few shots and bag dinner, but I am declining his (appealing, but medieval) suggestion.

6. Driving home from Canada on Sunday, we had to stop at the border so the dude in the car in the next lane over could be removed from his vehicle, frisked as 5 other officers with guns drawn stood by, and then led away in cuffs.  We’ll never know the story, but it’s nice to see the border guards doing their jobs.  I imagine he’s got a warrant out, has skipped out on someone, or is on a no-no list.

7. Tomorrow is Canada day and as is my usual MO for the day, I will dress in red and white, bellow O Canada from the top of my lungs, invite the Chili kids to do the same as they are red and white, and watch the Canada Day celebrations on the internet.

8. I was sad to hear of the passing of the talented and accomplished Michael Jackson; yesterday at a restaurant Pandora was playing, obviously set to play his, Lionel Ritchie, Stevie Wonder and Prince’s stuff. Much of it was a bad 80s flashback, but so many good songs played. That all said, Mr. Jackson was one freaky dude.  Who names his kid Blanket!

May he rest in peace.

9. Cooking for 2 means I make too much food. Dammit.

10. Apologies in advance. Brain worm from yesterday:

Ready, set, off to camp

It’s that time of year again.

My living room is currently the home to overstuffed dufflebags, sleeping bags and bulging backpacks.  The sky overhead is black and stormy and while I pack the back of the car, I am hopeful the storms hold off.

Being the wonderful mother that I am, I took Boo and 4 of her friends to the beach this morning, a 45 minute-drive either way. Then, we came home for a marathon of efficient last minuting. Tempers boiled over of course – Boo knocked over a glass and it exploded all over the tile floor, then she melted down as if she’d birthed the blighted thing – but as of now, my car is stuffed full of everything crossed off lists.

At least that’s what I am telling myself.

They’ll be off adventuring as of Sunday afternoon, once again with their camp friends, flexing their independent selves and mouths, enjoying life with a different structure.  They’ve been counting the days until camp for months and it’s had to believe it’s here already; on Sunday at 7:15 the bus will leave Montreal for Ottawa and camp and Bob and I will head home.  We’ll bisect the summer twice more with visits North – once for visitors’ day and three days after in Ottawa, and then to pick them up, in August.

Momma bear is saying see ya to the cubs for another summer.

They will have such fun.  Maybe they’ll even write to tell me just how much.

Or maybe, they’ll be having too much fun to write.

But one thing’s certain: they’ll continue to evolve under caring hands, and all is well.

Just, you know, quieter.

CNN Dumbs Down Headline

Originally, the headline read:
“US rescinds July 4 invitation to Iran.”

Now, It’s “US DROPS July 4 invitation.”

Behold, the bottom line gets lower all the time.

Pushy and Firm, Slightly Bitchy, but Victorious

I was there first.

In March of 2008, my family and I celebrated Boo’s Bat Mitzvah at a local convention center, nestled in the woods of northern New England.  The setting was gorgeous, the room spectacular, and the team – including a chef completely willing, nay excited, to create a meal from the organic and local produce and meat we’d requested – bloody excellent.

At the time, I worked with their event manager Jo, a petite powerhouse with tons of energy and lots of creative ideas.  She met with us repeatedly, was attentive, responsive and funny as hell. When we were done with Boo’s event, she even had us deconstruct with her, so we knew what we wanted to avoid with Monkey’s event.

She and I phoned and emailed in the early spring about the date we’d chosen for our second daughter’s simcha and she offered to give us the same $50 per person, with no fee for underusing the big (with floor to ceiling windows) room, saying that we’d been such a pleasure to work with, she couldn’t see why we couldn’t lock in the price.

Then Jo disappeared. I didn’t know it when I booked the date online and sent the email – silly and a mite ridiculous – to Jo, but she’d left the center. Newgirl replied: she would be “happy to help me with any and all of my even planning needs.”

Pech.

We exchanged phone calls and for nearly a week, Newgirl does not get back to me. Then I received this:

I am writing about your Daughter’s Bat Mitzvah. I wanted to let you know that we have had a wedding book for Saturday, September 25, 2010 and they are using both event rooms. Is your original date flexible at all?

I replied that we had NO flexibility. Smack dab in among all the early high holidays and very close to Monkey’s birthday, there was no other day.  Then, to my email, she sent this:

The sales person that booked the wedding saw that the date was available as there were no prior commitments on that date. I know you said that the date isn’t flexible but should you have another event in the future, please think of the Center.

I seethed. I wrote this:

I wish that there was a way to have honored the verbal/email discussion we had had about that day so that I may have come in and given a deposit before the day was taken. It SHOULD have been noted on your end that the day WAS being discussed and I should have been given an option to do something about it before the sales person accepted the deposit.  I am deeply disappointed, as is my daughter and the rest of my family.

Then I left a message outlining these arguments (with a cringing Boo in the background) on the voice mail of her supervisor.

Early yesterday morning, I received this email:

Dear O’Mama;

I had a chance to talk with my supervisor when she came in this morning. She had a good feeling that the wedding couple was a bit flexible so she called them and they are moving their wedding date to the following weekend. We hope this helps ease your mind as well as your daughter’s. Please let me know if you would like me to send you a contract. I look forward to working with you and your family to make this a special day!

Evil cackle.  YES!

Now, after breaking in Newgirl, we begin planning the next Bat Mitzvah.

photo credit

Ten Things Tuesday: Dealing with Difficult People

I recently spent some time with someone I love very much and with whom I have common ground of a shared history, shared love for a variety of things, but also, a tendency to butt heads.

This post is about what I learned from the situation.

1. I can be an 8 year old, with all of the impulse control of a 3rd grader with a finger up his nose.

2. I can hurl verbal gauntlets and damned if I don’t deserve the flak I get.

BUT.

3. I can also restrain myself, be non-committal when issues with which I strongly disagree are raised in provocative ways, and let the whole thing slide messily off my windshield.

4.  I can smile blandly and change the subject when I choose not to engage in a conversation about something when the other person isn’t really interested in what I have to say, but really wants to be right or have the last word.

5. I can NOT react to the phrasing or the tone, and instead merely mildly address the heart of the query, and choose to ignore battle lines being sketched. Bomb, what bomb?

6. When I am argued with, when what I say is hotly disputed, and when it descends into name calling, I can (hope to) easily  see that being demonized is the only way the other person knows how to deal with the heat of the disagreement. When my integrity is called into question in anger, I can disengage until the other person is once again in control.

7. I can smile, smile, smile and NOT daydream about a little mayhem.

8. I can refuse to let the altercation fade into unacknowledged nothingness, and bring it up gently, obliquely, so the communication breakdown – not necessarily the issue – can be discussed.

9. Without the use of the words always or never.

10. I can be true to my principles, own my shit, lead by example, and keep learning, by paying close attention, what NOT to do.