Post #41: PD’s Third Miracle

PD’s third encounter with near death was also his closest call.  PD was eight years old.  Wife and I were trying to live in two places in two cities.  I had closed my private practice in Rockport and began a full-time position as faculty at the University of Houston – Victoria.  I would stay in Victoria for three or four days a week, and then would stay in Aransas Pass for three or four days.

PD began acting strangely on one Sunday in Aransas Pass.  He was depressed, not moving much, and looked like he was in pain.  This was too soon after Henry went down, and we were still very much worried about dachshund back injuries.  Our first thought was that PD had hurt his back.  Our regular vet was closed and not available. 

I drove PD to the veterinary hospital in Corpus Christi.  I expressed my concerns about PD’s back to the person who did the intake.  The tech took X-rays, the vet looked at them and said she could see some places where he had inflammation of his disc.  She gave PD a shot for his pain.  PD and I left the hospital with a bottle of pain medication, advice to keep him in a crate, and instructions on when to give him his medicine. 

I was supposed to be in Victoria on Monday, and Wife and the dogs were coming with me.  So, we crated PD, packed our things, and headed north.

PD did not get better.  PD continued to be lethargic.  He threw up a couple of times.  He refused to eat.  That was a really big thing.  PD has always been food motivated.  So, any time he refuses to eat, we know something is really wrong.  He also refused to drink.

Wife forced his pain medicine down him, and he threw it right back up.  We decided not to force him to take it again.  By late evening, PD had not had anything to drink.  I took him to his water dish, but he just looked at it.  Then I put some water on my finger and rubbed it around his lips.  That triggered a gagging reflex.  PD was warm and seemed to have a fever.  It was late Sunday evening, and we had no vet resources in Victoria.  We decided to wait it out, and hope that PD would be better in the morning.

He wasn’t.                                                                                                                     

Wife was headed to Temple to spend some time with our grandchildren, but we both knew we needed to get PD back to our vet in Rockport.  

I put PD in the car and drove south to Rockport, while Wife headed north to Temple.  Both of us with prayers for the safety of the other, and for PD to get well.

The vet examined PD and ran some blood tests.  He told me to leave PD with him so they could start him on an IV and get some fluids in him.  He was dehydrated and in pain.  The vet wanted to wait for the lab results and check some other things.  I left and went back to Victoria without PD.  When the vet called, the news was bad.

PD had pancreatitis.  His body was digesting itself.  His liver had shut down.  His kidneys had shut down.  The vet wasn’t sure that PD would live.  He told us that on paper, PD was already a dead dog.

The vet withheld all food and water.  Any food or water consumed by mouth would trigger an enzyme action against his organs.  This is why PD was vomiting and gagged when I forced him to put water in his mouth.  This enzyme action was the means in which his body was digesting itself.  Any fluids or nutrition that PD got would have to be through his IV.

PD stayed at the vet’s for several days.  We spoke to the vet every day.  At first we got encouraging news.  He seemed to be getting better.  But then, PD seemed to be getting worse.  The vet asked us to come and talk to him about taking PD home.  The vet didn’t think that there was anything else he could do for PD.

Wife and I drove to Rockport, to the vet’s office.  We went into the examination room and waited while the vet told us about what he had done for PD.  He told us that PD wasn’t “out of the woods, yet.”

The tech walked in carrying PD.  He saw us and began to wag his tail.  The tech put him on the examining table, and PD was all over us with kisses and tail wags.

The vet smiled and said that was the best he had seen PD act since he had arrived.  He knew that he had done the right thing to get us to come and get him.

PD is now on a low-fat diet, and has not had any further problems with his pancreas.  He is 11 years old now, and is losing some of his eye sight.  He is often in pain because of his back, but Wife does a great job of managing his pain.

As he gets older, he accumulates symptoms that slow us all down.  We do not know how many more years we will have with PD.  We are simply grateful for all of the years that we have had.  We count each day that PD is with us as one more blessing.

Post #32: Henry's Back Again

Henry turned seven, and the memories of his back injury were fading, but still in place.  We had installed ramps everywhere we could think of.  We were 80% successful in getting Henry to use the ramps.  Unfortunately, 80% was 20% too little.

We saw the jump when it happened.  But there was nothing we could do to stop him.

He jumped off the couch, and Henry had trouble using his hind legs.

We gave him his anti-inflammatory pain medication and put him in his crate.

The next morning we took Henry to the vet.  We explained that Henry went down on his back.  We had followed the procedures we’d been instructed too, but Henry wasn’t any better.

We had seen this coming on.  Henry had been less active, and he looked like he was in pain.  When the big jump happened, we knew he had done significant damage.

Henry got an injection and we went back home, placing Henry back in his crate.  The next day, he still wasn’t walking and his hind feet were “knuckling under.”

We went back to the vet’s office. 

The vet examined Henry and put him on the floor.  Henry made a liar out of us by walking.

Relieved, we took Henry home again, and put him back in his crate.  Maybe he would survive another back injury, after all!

I carried Henry outside later that day so he could take care of business.  Henry could not stand.  I supported his back end with a towel and helped him get relief.  But I was worried.  He was supposed to be getting better, not worse.

Henry did not like sleeping thin the kitchen by himself, so I brought his crate into our bedroom.  He still was not happy with the sleeping arrangements, but at least he was close to us.

During the night, Henry wet his bed.  He no longer had control over his bladder.  He had no feeling.  No control of anything that happened below the waist.  Henry tried to lick clean the mess he made, which really made us sad.

He cleaned up Henry and his bed.  Wife and I had a long talk.  Our lifestyle and house were not conducive to a wheelchair dog.  Wife’s back problems prevented her from being able to carrying Henry outside.  I had started a new job and was commuting to my new work, often staying away two to three nights a week.  I would be no help.  At this point, we could not afford another back surgery.  And Henry seemed to be more impaired than he had been the first time.  Was it time to ask the vet to put Henry down?  We didn’t know.  We needed to talk to the vet.

We called the vet and let him know what was happening.

We picked up Henry and a towel and took him back to the vet’s office.  Wife and I held it together pretty well on the drive over.  We did pretty well in the waiting room.

The vet invited us to the back, and we carried Henry to one of the examining tables.  The vet took time to explain what he was going to do and what would happen as the injection took effect.  We were asked if we would like to stay, or if we would rather wait in the waiting area.  We chose to stay with Henry.

The vet prepared the syringe and tried to find a vein in Henry’s front paw.  Henry lifted his paw away.  He tried again, and Henry avoided the needle again.

The vet explained that he would make the injection in Henry’s rear paw.  It would take a little longer, but Henry would not be aware of the injection, since he had no feeling in that part of his body.

I held Henry in a hug as the needle went into his hind paw.  Almost immediately I felt Henry slip away.  His warm body just kind of melted away, and I lay him on the table.

Henry was gone.

And our tears arrived in buckets.  Wife and I were both overcome with grief.  We couldn’t hold our tears back, or our sobs. 

This was perhaps the hardest thing either of us had ever had to do.  I have no doubt that others in the waiting room heard us.

The vet verified that Henry was dead.  Then he wrapped him in our towel and handed Henry to me.

Once we got home, I buried Henry under the overhanging branches of the mulberry tree.

This was his favorite spot during the spring.  He would spend hours here eating mulberries.  I felt this was a fitting spot for Henry’s remains, allowing him to rest forever under the one spot I tried so hard to deny to him.

Wife and I were devastated.  We both continue to feel sad every time we think about Henry.  Because he was a dog and not a child, we had to make a terrible decision.  One based on practicality, not desire.  Wife lacked the strength to carry him in and out of the house. I was away in Victoria several days a week.  Our house was built in such a way that Henry could not have had access to the yard he loved without our help.

Wife and I grieved over Henry’s loss.

When I brought Henry into the backyard to bury him, we let PD spend some time sniffing the body.  I think he understood that his brother was gone.  I’m not sure that he mourned Henry’s loss.  We didn’t notice a difference in his behavior.

I’m sure PD did notice, however, that he was getting a lot more attention.

RIP, Henry

2004 - 2011

Post # 29: The Back!

When you adopt a dachshund you learn that their long backs are their weak point.  Henry was a young, athletic dog.  He caught possums and birds.  He would fly off the couch to confront any new sound that might threaten the household.  And we worried about the toll our stairs, steps, and his flights onto and off of the couch would take on his back.

For my part, I built ramps.  We had a ramp for every couch in the house and for our bed. 

 

I had a series of ramps built so our dachshunds could come into and go out of the house without jumping or climbing steps.

A small ramp led from the mudroom up to the doggy door in the wall.  Another short ramp led from the doggy door in the wall to the backyard porch.  And then a rather long ramp carried the dogs from the porch to the backyard lawn, four feet below the porch.  We put a fence and a gate around the porch so PD and Henry wouldn’t be tempted to take the steps.  I put a lattice fence along either side of the long ramp so they would not be tempted to jump off when they were only half way down.

Still, dogs don’t always make the best decisions.  Henry took one of his flying leaps off of the couch one evening and hurt himself.  He didn’t let us know he was hurt until later.  Not until he had aggravated his back by going down the front steps.

Henry was hurt bad.  We were scared.  He never cried, he just wouldn’t/couldn’t use his hind legs.  We took Henry to our vet and had him checked out.  Henry was given some pain medication and we took him home.  Henry did the mandatory crate and rest routine.  He got better.

And then, Henry hurt his back again.  Henry had no feeling in his back legs.  He was walking on his “knuckles.”  We went back to the vet.  The vet told us that there was a place in San Antonio that could do the back surgery on Henry.  We were also told that there were more failures than successes with back surgery.  Our vet was also not in favor of putting Henry in a wheelchair.  He reminded us that dogs in a wheelchair needed a lot of help with bodily functions/elimination.  He suggested we keep Henry crated for a couple of more days and that we watch him. 

So we did.

 

The next day, Henry seemed a little better.  And then he got worse.  I called the vet.  It was time to try surgery.  I got the name and phone number of the hospital that did back surgery on dogs and gave them a call.  We were at the hospital three hours later.

The new vet examined Henry and determined that he would be a good candidate for the surgery.  We left him in their hands.  It was a long, sad drive home.  But at least we had hope.

We returned a few days later to pick him up.

Poor Henry.  They had shaved off a large patch of hair down his back, and he had a lot of staples over his spine.  One of our friends had put their dachshund through the same procedure.  She had described her dachshund as looking like a football after the surgery.  She was right.  With the bare skin and staples, he really did look like a live football.  Henry was so glad to see us, and we were equally happy to see him.  It didn’t matter what he looked like.

 

We were warned that Henry might not get back the full function in his rear legs.  We watched Henry over the next few months as he got better.  He was wobbly at first.  Sometimes it looked like he was trying to walk sideways.  And standing on three legs to pee was a challenge.

But Henry got stronger and he regained his footing.

I knew Henry had made a good recovery when he caught his next bird.