|Cinn on a "walk" during a hospital visit.|
Turns out, my poor girl has pancreatitis. Luckily (for us at least), this is not nearly as dangerous in dogs as it is in humans. Still, it needs to be carefully treated, and the vet therefore admitted her to the hospital Saturday night, where she's been until yesterday at noonish when my dad picked her up. While it's FANTASTIC to have her with me, she's by no means in the clear. She has seven oral medications and a butt cream. We actually had to make an excel spreadsheet with med and times to make sure they're all accounted for at the proper hour and with the proper instructions. One of the medications has specific bolded instructions that you must wear gloves when giving it to her - oddly, it's NOT the butt cream, though perhaps that was just kind of assumed. One medication can't be given within an hour of any other medication, which is problematic when there are seven other medications spread throughout the day and night. One has to be put into a syringe with water and made into a "slurry", which we then inject into her... mouth. Haha almost had you, that one's also not the butt cream, thank god.
In additional to single-handedly supporting a pharmacy, she also has major trouble with her back legs. They constantly give out on her, so she can't go up stairs without help, if at all, and she can't even stand for too long of a time. Oddly, walking seems to be better than standing, so at least she's mobile. She doesn't seem particularly hungry, but then again if I was on scientifically created food I might not be either. The one good thing that has come out of this ordeal is that the vet decided to lower her predinose dose and supplement it with another immunosuppressant that doesn't have quite the difficult side effects, so that eventually she can be off the steroids all together.
|Cinn sleepy, but back with us.|
The past week has bee rough. For her, for me, for everyone. When I went on Monday to visit her, it was very disheartening. She barely wanted to move and seemed almost non-responsive. In fact, I even questioned if she recognized me, until I tried to leave and she tried to come with me. I wondered if she'd just given up fighting. But she rallied a bit Tuesday when my dad and I went back, seeming perkier and wanting to be outside, even pulling towards the cars in the parking lot, wanting to leave. They told me she'd tried to paw her way out of her crate and had ripped out her IV tubes which, while not good treatment wise, told em she still has fight left in her.
She's very lethargic at home, but she's eating a bit, drinking water, and still moving around enough to try to be near us when she can. I'm hoping that being with loved ones will help her continue to recover, and that as some of the meds doses start to wind down over the next week, she gains more strength and energy.
She's no spring chicken, I realize. And I need to make sure I'm keeping her best interests in mind. But I will fight for her as long as she has even an ounce of fight left for herself. She has always been there for me when I needed it most; she has been my constant and my rock, and I will be there for her, whatever the cost (literally and figuratively). We will fight through it together, as we always have. Get well my Cinny, my strong, sweet baby girl. I love you!