You know, sometimes I'm fine and sometimes, it's all I can do to not cry about my Z. This is one of those times.

Get better already, would ya???

You know, sometimes I'm fine and sometimes, it's all I can do to not cry about my Z. This is one of those times.

Get better already, would ya???

Where He Wobbles Today
I'll start with last night. After a very uneventful and highly successful maroon draft, Viv came with me to see the Z man, since his spa (aka the vet) wasn't far from where we were. I think to her, he looked awful. All skinny and tired, sleeping like nobody's business. But there were some good things:

• his catheter was out. This means he's walking well enough to walk that scrawny butt outside to pee.
• the techs asked if I wanted to take him out for a walk. A walk? Are you serious? I'd love that, but alas, Mr. Man was too tired from his busy day to even really get up to talk to me.
• the tech reported that he was walking better than he had been. They'd discontinued some pain meds that might have been disagreeing with him and that seemed to help.
• he was sleeping as soundly as he does at home, snoring like nobody's business. I sat with him, just listening to him snore, pretending like I was in my bed and he was in his, just outside our door. I also called Andrea so she could hear it, too.

That was last night.

This morning I talked to the vet, who is not the same nice lady I've been dealing with, this guy was the seasoned vet of the team, he'd been around a zillion years and you could hear it in his voice. His bedside manner had the kind of abruptness that doesn't surprise you from a guy with his experience, but still bums you out, since he of all people should know better.

Yes, the bloody dirrhea has slowed way down but Z has lost a lot of blood. Well, duh, we all could see that. They gave him some vitamin K yesterday to improve coagulation but it's not quite enough, they're going to do a plasma transfusion today in hopes that it will help stop the ever-dwindling flood of blood from his skinny rump. That's another $250-$300 added to our current total of $1700. Which is all fine if my guy gets every chance to fight this.

They did some test on his liver that shows some problems. Again, makes sense to me since he's been having all the blood. They're going to do a repeat ultrasound (at no charge, $200 saved there) to make sure they didn't miss anything in his liver. But the doc is still worried about his neurological symptoms -- that he's walking like a drunken sailor. The most plausible answer is that it could be tied into the liver problems. If we can get the liver stuff under control then that should improve.

Then the fucker (aka Today's Vet) dropped the bomb: If we couldn't get the neurological stuff under control then we'd have to ask ourselves how long we'd let him go on.

HEY ASSHOLE! THE MAN IS OLD, 90+ IN PEOPLE YEARS. How about we give him time to heal before we start talking that kind of nonsense? I mean, you'd give your grandma time to heal, wouldn't you? You'd say, well, Grandma's 90, this might take longer to recover from than if she was 40. Wouldn't you?

I'm not suggesting for a second that we'll let the man suffer longer than necessary. We wouldn't and we won't. However, he's not suffering now, he's just hanging out and fighting the slow fight of old guys who have been through major trauma. And those people don't know him. We do. Every day when we come in, he's doing 2-3 things better than the day before. No, he's not hippity hopping around, but he's making escape attempts and walking on a leash. That's enough progress for us to see what he's saying: that he's still in this fight.

Please continue to keep the little guy in your thoughts and prayers. Imagine him standing up without wobbling, tail wagging, ready to eat anything we put in front of him. Now send that vision over to Adobe Animal Hospital, ICU cage #2.

I Was Fine, I Swear
Until a minute ago and I lost it. I'm ready for Z to be hippity hopping at home now, please.

No News: Good News
I called over to the vet's last night around midnight and they didn't have much to report. We all went to bed early (Zeus included) and I enjoyed a full night's sleep for the first time in a couple of days. I know, you people out there with young children scoff at me for this, you are shaking your heads and saying 'just you wait, Liz Doughty, until you have a muchkin of your own, then a good night's sleep will be a thing of the distant past'.

This morning, I called again but the vet was busy and so was the ICU staff so the vet called me back later. He's continuing to improve, still very slowly. He's trying to walk more, then he gets pooped out and flops down for a snooze. And yes, oh yes, the barking continues. He ate a little teeny bit of food last night, again, progress.

He's still having bloody dirrhea, which sucks. It seems to be slowing down, though, so that's good. He's going to get a coagulant today to see if that will help. But they're kinda worried that he has something neurological going on - did we want to call in a neurologist? Well, no. All we'd know then is that something else is going on, we couldn't fix it. I'd rather spend that money giving Zeus things he loves -- treats or bones or whatever he wants.

So, for now, we're still cautiously hopeful. And yes, racking up between $250-$400 per day on the man. Given that in 5 years, he's barely cost us anything, I suppose he's got this coming, but I'd still rather be spending it on treats than IV fluids and medical crap. I hate watching him falter when he walks, yet I'm thrilled that he's walking, even a little.

We're supposed to go to Vancouver this weekend for a tourney. Now that he's stable and not coming home for a while, we're going to go anyway since I can still call too often from Vancouver as easily as I can from home. If you know Zeus in real life (or just know me) and have a little time to spare this weekend, would you mind stopping by Adobe to visit him? Even for a little while? Email me if you can and I'll send you directions.

Keep those good thoughts and prayers coming. They're still working, still on Zeus Time.

Drunken Sailor
I went to see Zeus tonight around 5. He was so much better than when I saw him last, which was late last night, when he was basically a puddle of a dog. As soon as I opened the door to the putter ICU, I heard this bark and I thought, hmm, that sounds like Zeus' bark. But last I saw, he wasn't barking.

But yes! Yes, my man was barking, irritated about his newly-placed catheter. Barking! He had the stregth to be annoyed and to show that annoyance by barking! Woo! I sat with him for a while, listening to him bark. When I'd stop petting him, he made an attempt to stand up and stumble towards me. He settled with his head in between my arm and the wall, eventually snoozing.

I left him and spent some time with Susan and the babies, who live conveniently close to the emergency vet's office. I picked up Andrea, we had some dinner then both headed back to see him. He was still perkier, still barking and trying to walk even more. He kept standing up like he was peeing. Who knows, in his mind he could have been, even though he was catheterized. When we're with him he REALLY wants to stumble out of there and head home.

That's the good news. The bad news is that he's still having bloody dirrhea, and he has pretty much no muscle control. His paws keep curling under when he tries to stand, though he can now stand for moments at a time. He recognized us and definitely put on a good show for his moms.

I will take teeny bits of progress as they come. Please continue your good thoughts and prayers for the Z-man. They're paying off. Let's get my little guy home again soon.

All Zeus, All The Time
Since I last posted, I've spoken to the vet twice. I do not care if I'm pestering her, though to her credit, she doesn't seem to mind all that much. I've progressed from being a hysterical ninny to being (sort of) in control of my emotions, able to make what I hope are the right decisions about our little man.

His red blood cell count has dropped again, down from 70 when he came in, to 59 this morning and now, to 52. That's great news. Normal is 5.5-8.5 so he has a long way to go, but we'll focus on the fact that it's coming down at a good, abeit slow, pace. He hasn't vomited since about 3 am, though the dirrhea continues. She thinks that will continue for a few days as the granola and god knows what works it's way out of his little system. She's a little concerned that he hasn't peed, but again, these people don't know Zeus. That man may have his moments of selected incontenence these days (one night, he just got confused and peed on this crate we use to elevate Gus' food. He was as confused by this as we were!) but that man WILL NOT pee in a crate. He loves his crate, will sleep in one if given a choice, there or in the one bed that's too small for the other dogs but just the right size for a beagle (yes, that's right, it's a cat bed. What can I say, the man is scrawny...) but he sure as hell won't pee in one, even if he does feel like road kill. I told them that this morning but he's not exactly up for walking outside, so they're going to catheterize him for a little relief. He will no doubt feel indignant about the situation but that's better than a belly full of backed-up pee.

I am still sad sad sad but trying to send him images of himself standing up in the cage. Yes, praying too, but I figure none of it can hurt. All of the prayers and good thoughts that are coming his way are helping for sure, please keep them up!!!

I just want him home. And hopping around. And tap-dancing on my bladder while we sit on the couch.

What Zeus should be doing instead of being a doggie hospital patient

Zeus At The Hospital: Day 2
We stayed up until 2 am so I could wait as long as possible to call about our man. The vet was feeling much better about his condition -- he'd perked up a little, his skin tone was better and he was no longer laying on his side. He also apparently decided that being in the cage waas enough for now and had strolled out. That was a huge win, that he'd been up and around, even for a second.

The vet called back at 7 am, when she was going off her shift. He hadn't made much progress since 2, and that worried her. Apparently, his big jail break took all his energy! I called again at 10, he's now picking up his head and moving around a bit. I talked to our regular vet, who agrees with me that he's just taking his time. The man is not young and you know, sometimes, you just have to be patient.

Andrea paid him a visit this morning and I think the weight of it all finally hit her. He tried to scootch towads her, held up his head and seemed to recognize her. But it's such a far cry from the hippity hop dance he usually does that she finally broke down.

I talked to the vet again and she would like to do an x-ray or ultrasound later today if he continues to not improve dramatically. It's doubtful that there's blockage but please, fine, do whatever you think is best, if it brings my little hippity hop back home to hippity hop.

This morning I gave the dogs a treat and pretty much lost it when I went to give Zeus his, then realized he wasn't there. The other dogs didn't know what to do either, since Z goes first. We were all like, um, who's next on the list? Patrick has spent a great deal of time looking for Z -- in the bathtub, under my bed, in the office, outside. He's pretty upset that his brother isn't around. Gus has responded by moaning and Rainie's a bit more clingy than usual. Andrea and I are just sad. And tired, so very tired.

Bringing back our hippity hop boy will be a slow process but I'm confident that he'll pull through. Please continue all the good thoughts and prayers, it's working, albeit a bit slowly. But Zeus has always done things on his own time, why change anything now?

We All Miss Him
Yes, Zeus can drive us crazy but the dogs, Andrea and I are all a little lost without him here. Gus is moaning, Rainie won't leave my side and Patrick would rather be on the couch with us.

Rest assured, if Z man makes it home, it will be his place on the couch, not anyone else's, for quite some time. Here's hoping and praying that happens.

Zeus
Zeus and the others got into a whole bunch of food last night and though the bassets and Gus seem fine, Zeus was quite bloated. I came home at lunch to check on him -- he'd thrown up most of it, but he seemed okay. He got all up in the Roos grill about getting petted and I naively thought the worst was behind us.

When we came home tonight, he was so still I thought for a moment he was dead. When I saw that he was breathing, but not moving, we sprung into action. Fed the other dogs, got our shit together and scooped him up. He was absolutely lifeless in my arms. I called the emergency vet's office and kept it together until they asked for his information. I couldn't even say his name without crying.

Andrea got us there in record time and when we arrived, I noticed that he'd pooped all over my leg and the towel I'd wrapped him in. We rushed in and they took him from us right away, setting him up in the treatment area. They had a hard time running an IV, they wrapped him in towels and put warm bags of fluid around him to perk him up. He was so devoid of muscle tone, his foot was caught in his collar and he didn't even care. We stood there, watching and crying as they tried to bring him back to life.

Eventually they sort of got him stabilized and moved him to the ICU. We stayed with him as long as we could but eventually he was settled in his area and we were just in the way. He seemed to perk up a little more but was still having diarrhea and nowhere near his usual self. The doc suspects pancreatitis and says he's in shock, that he's not responding according to the usual treatments as she'd hoped so I don't know what to think.

We left him there and drove home, where we sit waiting for news. I'll call over there before we go to bed to see if there's any change. Seems like this is a week for hoping for miracles. Is it too much to ask for our Z man to get one now?

With all the heartache we've seen recently when it comes to our friends' kids, you'd think it would be easy to decide not to try to become parents, that we'd watch their heartache (and our own, on their behalf) and it would make it so easy to change our minds, to spare ourselves the agony that our friends are facing.

But it hasn't. Nor has it made us feel invincible. We know the risks, though you can never fully understand how bad things can be until they are that bad. All we can do is hope that we don't come to know that kind of pain first-hand, trusting that if we do, we're strong enough to face it head-on.

Any time I have a pang of questioning, of wondering if we're doing the right thing in trying to birth our own kid, all I have to do is look up at my calendar of Sam and Riley and know that everyone (who wants it) deserves a chance at that kind of joy. You just don't know what it's like when Sam does Sniffy Face or Kissy Face at you, or when Riley smiles her now-four-toothed gummy grin. You just don't know.

But I do. And man, am I lucky.

Seriously, Why?
Did I ever think that going back to school was a good idea?

One Hurdle Cleared
After a really lousy, largely sleepless night courtesy of our dogs, who seem to have forgotten that they're actually 4.5 years old and not goddamn puppies and become a raving band of terrorists, inflicting what seems to be an unending stream of harm upon themselves, I hit the ground running this morning.

No, my paper isn't quite done, nor is it remotely inspired, but...I did make a claim with my insurance company for the damage done to my car. I get a free Hertz (or similar!) rental car for the duration of the repairs and more importantly, I can take it to a real body shop to make sure that the noise I'm now hearing when I push on the clutch is truly nothing, and of course, that there isn't some hidden stuff wrong with it as well. My limited faith in the staying power of American cars is going down with each passing day.

I followed this flurry of activity by calling the lady who hit me and saying that I'd decided to go with my insurance company and that she didn't have to meet me at the Midas shop tomorrow after all. Bye, bye, I said and hung up as she said something else. Oh sorry, didn't hear you. Oh sorry, never plan to talk to you again, you big meanie with limited driving abilities.

That's Right
It's 1:15 am, I have a paper due tomorrow night after a full day of work. My paper is about half done and I just can't do anything about it.

This week has been just awful, it didn't allow me much time to give a crap about school. That's no excuse, it's just the truth.

In case you were wondering, our friend's baby isn't faring too well. An MRI showed a lot of brain damage and the doctors aren't optimistic that she'll survive. Her moms are continuing to hope for a miracle, I am too. Because sometimes, hope is all that's left.

Still Irked
All day, I've been fuming about how that woman and her daughter spoke to me, how incredulous they were that my car could possibly have something wrong with it. The woman who hit me is convinced that she hit me straight on, even though she saw the dent that's at an angle. Round and round we went about it, until finally I said I'd show it to her on Tuesday.

But the more I think about it, I remembered this: I have paid a shitload of money to my insurance company over the last 9 years. For that fee, I have purchased a liason between people like this woman and myself. I'm going to put that liason to work and have our insurance companies duke it out.

I would be disrespecting myself if I allowed these people to accuse me of lying and getting away with it.

Aren't You Nice?
After THREE DAYS of waiting, I finally heard back from the lady who hit my car last week. Well, not her but her not-very-nice-totally-accusatory daughter, who couldn't understand how her mom's sedan could possibly have caused any damage to my slightly-taller SUV. Um, because it has bumpers that are the SAME HEIGHT? Isn't that why they make most bumpers the same height?

The daughter went on and on and on about how that was just common sense, that surely the alignment in my 8000 mile old car must have been off beforehand, implying that I'm trying to scam a $100 (just a guess) alignment job out of her. What a bunch of mean-spirited people.

In the end, they're going to meet me at a Midas (which she'd never heard of) on Tuesday to determine if it's possible that her hitting me caused any damage to my car. Hmm. All I know is, before I met her, my car was perfect. Now it's not. You do the math.

I'm trying to be nice to the lady, to avoid going to her insurance (or the police) but after this morning's conversation, I'm less inclined to do that. Why is it so hard for people to do the right thing? Why?