Dillierama

Weekend update: The dog and the bed

So this "Dog on death row" thing seems to be really working out for Midnight.  His medication seems to be keeping him relatively pain free, we're making sure to give him extra attention, and since I don't have to worry about his weight any more, he's getting all the yummy canned dog food and treats his little puppy heart desires.  The vet had told me not to take him on walks anymore because the pressure of the tumor in his bladder can cause quite a bit of pain if it jiggles around too much, but Midnight LOVES the morning walk. I figure as long as he seems to be enjoying it, I'll continue to take him.  When he gets to the point that he can't walk, maybe I'll pull him along in a wagon or something. 

I've finally let go of all that anxiety I've had about when to have him put down. I've decided that Middie will let me know when he's ready.  Just like Rags did when she'd had enough.  Until then, I'll just focus on making his life as comfortable and happy as possible. 

In other news, John and I have finally retired our squeaky bed.  This bed has been the bane of my existence for years now. It started with the entire frame becoming unstable and the bed would sway if you walked by it too fast. We bought a new frame for it, keeping the headboard and foot board (which we love), and while it did stabilize the bed itself, the new frame was unbearably squeaky.  Just rolling over in the night would make the bed squeak, and not just a little squeak, we're talking about a violent sounding, metal on metal screeching! And that's just an innocent roll.  John is a "flopper".  He'll be snoozing away on his back and suddenly, without warning he'll thrust his entire body into the air, roll over mid flight and flop onto the bed on his belly. Hmmm, and I actually wonder sometimes how our bed became unstable in the first place. 

Anyhow, it's gotten to the point where I literally can't sleep in the bed anymore, the entire house wakes up if I so much as scratch my nose in the night. And forget about sex in that bed.  It's out of the question. So, after threatening John that I'd start sleeping in the guest room, he dismantled the bed and we put our mattress and box spring on the floor.  Now our bedroom looks so sad. We've got a big beautiful oak dresser, a custom made rolled top chest and then our queen size mattress on the floor.  It doesn't help that I've got flat pillows and mismatched sheets. I feel like a starving college student or something.

Having the mattress on the floor does have a few perks though, not least of which is the fact that John can flop all he wants during the night and it doesn't make a sound.  The bed is now both Alex and Midnight friendly.  Middie can jump up without a problem and Alex can actually get off the bed by himself without my worrying he'll plummet to his death. The plan was to buy a new bed, but I may just keep it on the floor for a while.  It's kind of nice.

A girl and her dog

My dog, my friend

I got a the worst possible call this morning from Midnight's vet.  He's been to see the vet four different times over the last couple of months due to blood in his urine and has been on four different antibiotics, none of which have been of any help.  So, this morning, I dropped him off to have a urinalysis and bladder x-ray done.  I went to work thinking about how I was going to pay for surgery or other expensive treatments that may need to be done.  And then, a few hours later, The Call.

The first thing the vet said was "I have bad news."  He then proceeded to tell me that Midnight had a massive tumor in his bladder.  He couldn't do a urinalysis on him because his bladder was full of blood.  He went on to explain that tumors of this type are usually malignant and generally, when they get this large, it means they've likely begun to spread the cancer to other parts of the body.

"OK" I said, still not fully understanding the enormity of what the doctor was telling me.  "What do we do now?  What are the next steps to take"

"You need to start saying goodbye"

My heart stopped beating.

"He will be in a lot of pain, there are no treatment options for canine bladder cancer.  You need to start saying goodbye."

"How long are we talking about here?"

"Weeks. Maybe days."

I left work shortly after having a mini breakdown at my desk and crying into my keyboard.  I went straight to the vet to pick up my dog.  When I got there, I sat down with the doctor and he showed me the x-ray. It didn't look good.  This thing was enormous.  Taking up over half of Middie's bladder.  The doctor explained to me that this was definately advanced.  The tumor is massive. He said that even from the external examination he did this morning, he could tell the tumor had grown from last week when Middie was in last.  The x-ray didn't surprise him.  I spoke with him at length about what I can expect, what will happen to Midnight in the next few weeks.  He told me he'll loose weight (he's been loosing weight steadily for a couple of months now, that I was crediting to diet dog food, apparently it was this cancer), he'll stop eating, he'll stop socializing with the family. He'll get grumpy, he'll be reluctant to move around much.  He'll vomit.  In essence, he'll be miserable.

I was given a couple of medications to take home with me.  To manage the pain and make Midnight more comfortable.  On the way home, I bought him a cheesburger and fries at McDonald's, but he only ate 2 fries and half of one bun and then threw it all up.  I gave him his pain meds and after fidgeting around and panting, he's now snoozing next to the sofa. He wasn't acting this miserable this morning, so I'm betting he's just sore from all the poking and prodding that was done to him today.

But still, I'm left to make the hardest decision.  I have to decide when enough is enough.  I have to decide how miserable I'll let him get.  It won't get better.  He will only get worse.  How bad is bad enough to let him go?  When will I look into his big brown eyes and say "Yea, you're ready buddy.  I won't let you hurt any more."  Maybe tomorrow? Maybe next week? It's hard to say. In the mean time, I'm trying to say goodbye to my best buddy, and I feel like my heart is being ripped out.

Zzzzzz

The Boy kept us up all night long screaming like a banshee.  He went to bed last night fairly early, fell asleep in my arms with a bottle in his mouth at 8:30.  That seems to be the trend these days, bath, bottle, bed.  He's also been sleeping all through the night more and more often, so imagine my surpise when I am rudely awakened in the middle of the night by screaming in the next room.  I brought him to bed with us, which usually makes him pass out for the rest of the night, only last night, he screamed, and screamed, and screamed... Then Midnight decided to start drinking (loudly) from the toilet, and my boobs hurt (stopped nursing on Saturday), and Alex was screaming, and I thought I was in some crazy nightmare.  John kept telling me that I was keeping everyone awake by yelling at the dog.  But I didn't feel like I was yelling.  I was confused.  And tired.  And frustrated.  And in pain. And my baby was screaming and my dog was drinking out of the toilet and my boobs were throbbing...

Finally around 4 am we got everything sorted out.  Thanks to John of course.  He let the dog out, got Alex a bottle and came back to bed and held both Alex and I until we both calmed down and fell asleep.

John and I woke in the morning (after 30 minutes of "snooze" hitting) like zombies, moving around the house in a daze while Alex was his happy perky little self. I took him on our morning walk this morning and he "sang" and squealed at the horses the whole time while drinking his breakfast bottle.  At least one of us is in a good mood this morning.