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