Continued from here:
Today, for the first time, Sadie ate and kept her food down. The past week or so has been a roller coaster ride that’s slung me from ridiculous hope to absolute despair and back again. On Friday the vet told me to prepare my daughter for the possibility of a hard decision if Sadie’s clinical signs didn’t improve and if her liver enzymes were still high. On Saturday, one of the liver panels crept down a squinchy bit, although the other stayed so high it was off the charts.
“Let’s give her a couple more days,” the vet said. She was still refusing food, still vomiting bile. But he reckoned she wasn’t really suffering. She didn’t seem to be in pain, and the worst of the nausea was kept under control by massive doses of anti-nausea medicine.
Today, this morning, she showed high energy despite not having eaten for a week. She ate lean turkey lunch meat from my hand, and kept it down, for three different meals. One liver panel is still off the charts, but the other had come down almost 200 points from the last reading, and 250 or so points from the high of over 1000. Every time I go in, she improves a little. I take her outside for a walk, holding her IV fluid bag high in the air. Then I sit on a stool with her in my lap while she sleeps. I try to tempt her with food. Today, finally, she deigned to eat. (She ate one other day, but threw up right away and then refused food for days afterwards).
Three meals. Three meals and no vomiting. Yellow eyes. Yellow skin. A bag of loose skin on pointy little bones. Blown veins in her legs from IV fluids for nine days, but today, today, she licked the IV wounds on her right front leg, showing interest in grooming herself for the first time.
I can’t put her back in the kennel. She clings to me, bites my sweater, throws herself out of the kennel into mid-air when I try to close the door. Now David, wonderful vet tech David, helps me. He holds her for me while I say goodbye. Then he puts her into the kennel for me. He tells me she cries after I leave. I wonder if me visiting two or three times a day is a good idea, and the techs say, “Yes. She loves it. She eats for you. She perks up for you. It’s making a real difference to her recovery.”
So I’ll go in there before work and afterwards tomorrow, with my bag of turkey lunch meat, and I’ll take her out for a walk and a cuddle, and I’ll hand feed her little bits of turkey and whisper stories in her ear of the day we can go once more for a walk in the canyon. When I mention the canyon, she licks my hand and looks into my eyes. She can’t wait.
There are no guarantees, but she’s one spunky little dog, and she’s fighting as hard as I am.
Keep the prayers and the om manis and the good wishes coming, please. And thank you.