Jan. 4, 2008
Today we took Winston for an x-ray and saw a wonderful vet who says there is hope for Winston to get better.
The day started out dreary. The sky was cloudy with a big rainstorm predicted. Dillon and I had heavy hearts, trying to prepare ourselves for the worst when we met the vet. We weren’t supposed to feed Winston so he could be sedated for the x-ray, so he was also in a gloomy mood. Any day without breakfast is a bad day to Winston.
He cheered up at the prospect of going for a ride -- but for the first time, he couldn’t step up into my car. His front legs went in just fine, but his hind end just stayed plopped on the driveway. The look in his eyes was shock and sorrow.
Dillon came to the rescue, using a towel as a sling under Winston’s belly to lift the dog into the car. Instead of riding on the seat with his nose happily out the window, he rode on the floor of the car, looking forlorn. I rode on the back seat beside him.
Things began looking up as soon as we saw Dr. Beasley. Her smile and warm personality lit up the small exam room.
“He’s having trouble standing up,” I said and summarized his symptoms.
“If only we could give him a new skeleton!” Dr. Beasley exclaimed. Then she got right down on the floor where Winston was sitting and welcomed all of his many dog kisses.
“I was in a wheelchair for four years, and he took care of me the whole time,” I explained.
“Did you do that?” she asked Winston lovingly. She examined him with her hands, then put a stethoscope against his chest to listen. “You have a strong heart,” she told him.
She wanted him to stand up so she could check his hind legs, but he was having too much of a good time on the floor with Dr. Beasley. He wasn’t about to get up.
“Maybe if you moved across the room,” I suggested.
“I have trouble standing up, too!” she laughed.
Where another vet had wanted to redo a painful x-ray to re-confirm the hip dysplasia, Dr. Beasley saw no need. She did a lateral x-ray of his spine that required no sedation at all.
Winston had a triumphant look when he came back from his first x-ray without any sedation. His expression seemed to say, “I like having my picture taken. I know how to do it.”
The vet tech was impressed. “He’s a good patient.”
Dr. Beasley saw reason for optimism in the results. His spine is still basically in good shape, except for a kind of degeneration called “bridging spondylosis” between his L2 and L3 vertebrae. She didn’t see any “bone spurs.”
We thought Adequan injections had helped Winston in the past, but recently another vet had vetoed the idea of trying it again, saying, “I’ve never seen it work.”
In contrast, Dr. Beasley was enthusiastic about the idea. She gave Winston his first injection and said to continue with an injection twice a week for four weeks, then once a month. They cost $37 each.
She had lots of other ideas, too:
An orthopedic sling for lifting his butt.
Doubling the dose of his supplements of glucosamine and chondroitin, continuing MSM, possibly adding fish oil.
Acupuncture. “Acupuncture works really well on dogs with this condition.” She gave us the names and numbers of three practitioners and said they might make house calls.
Doubling his dose of Rimadyl, a pain reliever and anti-inflammatory.
Putting an ice pack on his hips after exercise.
Reducing his weight by 10 pounds.
A pet ramp to help him get in and out of the car.
Doing passive range of motion exercises on his hind legs.
Taking him swimming (in warm weather) or getting him to use an underwater treadmill.
I thought a doggie wheelchair might be a possibility, but Dr. Beasley thought I was too pessimistic. “He’s not at that point yet!”
Dillon and I went from feeling like there was nothing we could do to feeling overwhelmed by all the treatment options! It was a good feeling.
“Is there really a chance of improvement?” I asked.
“There’s a chance!” Dr. Beasley affirmed.
I don’t think we can do all of the above, but we will try some of it. Some of these would be useless without Dillon. Winston is way too heavy for me to lift his butt, even with a sling. I sensed the burden of responsibility that Dillon bears because of her physical strength. I give thanks for having her in my life, in my pack.
It started raining as we drove home, and rain tends to make Winston get stiff or start limping. When we got home, Winston was really pathetic: tired, hungry, needing Dillon’s help just to get into the house. I fed him and he curled up on the floor near the heater.
We thought he would stay there all day, but no. As soon as we left the room, he pulled himself up and followed. I took a nap in the bedroom while Winston joined Dillon in her office, grateful to the hero who kept him going.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Monday, January 7, 2008
Rolling out the red carpet -- or the green yoga mat
Slipping on our linoleum kitchen floor has become a real problem for Winston on his unsteady legs. He does OK in the rest of our house, which has carpet, and outside. Today he was even reluctant to walk into the kitchen to get a drink from his water dish.
Suddenly I had a brainstorm: I unrolled my old green yoga mat on the kitchen leading from the carpeted area to his food and water dishes.
Winston tried it out and moved easily to and from his water. Then he looked at me with such joy and gratitude.
We're also letting him out more often through our other door, the one that has wall-to-wall carpet leading up to it.
Suddenly I had a brainstorm: I unrolled my old green yoga mat on the kitchen leading from the carpeted area to his food and water dishes.
Winston tried it out and moved easily to and from his water. Then he looked at me with such joy and gratitude.
We're also letting him out more often through our other door, the one that has wall-to-wall carpet leading up to it.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Winston the whirling dervish
From Dec. 31, 2007
I keep having nightmares where the hind end of something collapses, as is happening to Winston. For example, I dreamed of a car whose rear tires were both flat.
He still loves to go for a walk. He used to dance in circles when we got out the leash. Now he leaves his butt on the floor and spins around! He's like a whirling dervish. It gives new meaning to the phrase, “Drag your butt over here.”
At least Winston is back to barking at the mailman.
I keep having nightmares where the hind end of something collapses, as is happening to Winston. For example, I dreamed of a car whose rear tires were both flat.
He still loves to go for a walk. He used to dance in circles when we got out the leash. Now he leaves his butt on the floor and spins around! He's like a whirling dervish. It gives new meaning to the phrase, “Drag your butt over here.”
At least Winston is back to barking at the mailman.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Role Reversal
from Dec. 23, 2007
How can it be that my health suddenly improved at the very same time that Winston’s health suddenly declined? And both of us have nervous system problems.
I was in a wheelchair whenever I left our yard for four years until this spring due to Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. My improvement accelerated when I began taking remedies specifically for the brain and central nervous system.
And now Winston has nerve degeneration in his lower back that may put him in a doggie wheelchair within a year. (Yes, there are wheelchairs for dogs!)
He has all the symptoms described on websites for canine degenerative myelopathy: loss of coordination in the hind limbs, wobbling when walking, knuckling over or dragging the hind feet, crossing the feet, buckling at the knees and difficulty standing
One university website goes on to make a recommendation about the end-stage:
My heart sank when I read that. I know that euthanasia is sometimes necessary, but to resort to that for an otherwise healthy dog -- only because a dog needs a wheelchair?
I tried to discuss it with Dillon last night during a TV commercial. “A lot of people kill their dogs when they need a wheelchair,” I said.
Dillon wasn’t even listening to me, but Winston was. He stared at me, striken.
“What did you say to Winston?! I’ve never seen him look like that,” Dillon exclaimed.
“I’d better not say it out loud again.” Winston was still staring at me in horror as I wrote it down for Dillon.
She read my note, then crumpled it up and threw it away. “How could you say that?”
“I wanted to discuss it with you. I didn’t think Winston knew the word ‘wheelchair.’”
“Of course, he does!”
Then I remembered how Winston used to walk beside me in my wheelchair on special occasions while Dillon or another friend pushed it.
Nobody “put me out of my misery” when I was in a wheelchair. Dillon did everything in her power to help and heal me. Winston’s constant companionship also helped me endure and eventually overcome that disability. Can I do any less for Winston if he gets into that state?
That gets back to the question of how we can have such a role reversal in the first place.
I keep thinking of a passage in my favorite medical reference book for pets: The Natural Remedy Book for Dogs and Cats by Diane Stein.
This is my favorite book for dog healing. I refer to it a lot. Some of its advice even works for humans!
How can it be that my health suddenly improved at the very same time that Winston’s health suddenly declined? And both of us have nervous system problems.
I was in a wheelchair whenever I left our yard for four years until this spring due to Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. My improvement accelerated when I began taking remedies specifically for the brain and central nervous system.
And now Winston has nerve degeneration in his lower back that may put him in a doggie wheelchair within a year. (Yes, there are wheelchairs for dogs!)
He has all the symptoms described on websites for canine degenerative myelopathy: loss of coordination in the hind limbs, wobbling when walking, knuckling over or dragging the hind feet, crossing the feet, buckling at the knees and difficulty standing
One university website goes on to make a recommendation about the end-stage:
“Your veterinarian will suggest ways to help you adjust to your dog's gradually
increasing limitations, and to recognize the point at which euthanasia becomes
the best option. This is usually within a year of the initial diagnosis, when
your dog is no longer able to walk.”
My heart sank when I read that. I know that euthanasia is sometimes necessary, but to resort to that for an otherwise healthy dog -- only because a dog needs a wheelchair?
I tried to discuss it with Dillon last night during a TV commercial. “A lot of people kill their dogs when they need a wheelchair,” I said.
Dillon wasn’t even listening to me, but Winston was. He stared at me, striken.
“What did you say to Winston?! I’ve never seen him look like that,” Dillon exclaimed.
“I’d better not say it out loud again.” Winston was still staring at me in horror as I wrote it down for Dillon.
She read my note, then crumpled it up and threw it away. “How could you say that?”
“I wanted to discuss it with you. I didn’t think Winston knew the word ‘wheelchair.’”
“Of course, he does!”
Then I remembered how Winston used to walk beside me in my wheelchair on special occasions while Dillon or another friend pushed it.
Nobody “put me out of my misery” when I was in a wheelchair. Dillon did everything in her power to help and heal me. Winston’s constant companionship also helped me endure and eventually overcome that disability. Can I do any less for Winston if he gets into that state?
That gets back to the question of how we can have such a role reversal in the first place.
I keep thinking of a passage in my favorite medical reference book for pets: The Natural Remedy Book for Dogs and Cats by Diane Stein.
Pets also sacrifice themselves for the well-being of the humans they have bonded
to. Animals take negative energy or situations into themselves and thereby
protect their people. Both cats and dogs act as buffers between their people and
the dangers and negativities of the world. Humans are aware of this on a
conscious level when a dog runs back into a burning house to save a child or
puts herself between her person and an attacker and dies. The same scenario
happens on an energy level daily although the humans involved may never be aware
of it. The cat in a troubled family may manifest her guardian’s cancer, clearing
the human’s aura and taking the dis-ease into her own body. Emotional level
healing includes helping the pet to release the negative energy and emotions she
has absorbed from her household, and having her own needs met in that household.
(page 4)
This is my favorite book for dog healing. I refer to it a lot. Some of its advice even works for humans!
Friday, January 4, 2008
Two jingle collars
Winston with his first jingle collar in 2001
Winston now has a choice of jingle collars. When we woke up Christmas morning, we discovered a gift for Winston hanging on our front doorknob. It was a jingle collar from our housekeeper.
He got his first jingle collar in 2001 from my parents.
Now I let him choose which one he wants to wear. Of course, he likes the new one.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Last Legs
From Dec. 21, 2007
For the first time I really understand the phrase, “He’s on his last legs.” Winston’s hind legs (and whole hind end) are no longer functioning properly. He gets up with tremendous effort using mostly his front legs. His hind feet kind of drag when he walks. Sometimes he curls his paw under and stands on the wrong side of his toes. His hind legs collapse under him if he gets bumped or -- as still happens -- if he gets excited and starts dancing in a circle. Then he becomes like a whirling dervish, spinning around with his muscular front legs while his butt stays on the floor.
Winston is definitely a “senior” dog with age-related health problems. Almost every day brings a new loss. Today when we let him out he started peeing on the porch as he walked to the grass -- he couldn’t hold it any longer. And when he stopped to pee on a walk, he kept peeing even after he started walking again, as if he couldn’t stop. None of this ever happened before.
My friend Deb came and brought the Christmas tree -- and great joy! We were all glad to see her, including Winston. But once again he wasn’t his usual patient gentle self. When he kissed her, she cried out in pain because somehow he caught his tooth on her lip. (It didn’t draw blood.) And when we posed for a photo with me holding a dog biscuit, it didn’t create his usual “cute look,” but rather a crazed expression that made me fear he would snap at me, so I quickly gave it to him.
Deb and I walked Winston around the neighborhood. I haven’t been strong enough to do that with them… ever since I met Deb almost 6 years ago. It was either Deb and Winston or Deb pushing me in the wheelchair.
It’s hard to accept that as I get stronger, Winston gets weaker, that our paths are diverging. It doesn’t seem fair that he stayed home with me for so many years while I slowly regained the ability to walk, and now that I am strong enough to walk him, it’s almost too late for Winston. It doesn’t seem fair that he had wait behind in the house, howling, while I took short walks until I was strong enough to hold him on the leash again. I promised him that I was doing it so I could get strong enough for us to walk together again. The dream of walking Winston again is part of what inspired me to keep trying to heal, against the odds and despite the difficulties.
Well, at least I did start walking Winston again this summer -- beginning on July 12, to be exact. So we have this special time together in his elder years.
Deb watched him walking today and judged that he is not in pain, but that there is nerve damage due to hip dysplasia. She has a lot of wisdom from years of working with dogs.
“For your sake, I wish he could keep going forever,” she said. “The thing to remember now is that he had a great life.”
“Yes, we had lots of adventures together. And even when we weren’t having adventures, we were together almost all the time.”
“That’s the main thing,” Deb said.
For the first time I really understand the phrase, “He’s on his last legs.” Winston’s hind legs (and whole hind end) are no longer functioning properly. He gets up with tremendous effort using mostly his front legs. His hind feet kind of drag when he walks. Sometimes he curls his paw under and stands on the wrong side of his toes. His hind legs collapse under him if he gets bumped or -- as still happens -- if he gets excited and starts dancing in a circle. Then he becomes like a whirling dervish, spinning around with his muscular front legs while his butt stays on the floor.
Winston is definitely a “senior” dog with age-related health problems. Almost every day brings a new loss. Today when we let him out he started peeing on the porch as he walked to the grass -- he couldn’t hold it any longer. And when he stopped to pee on a walk, he kept peeing even after he started walking again, as if he couldn’t stop. None of this ever happened before.
My friend Deb came and brought the Christmas tree -- and great joy! We were all glad to see her, including Winston. But once again he wasn’t his usual patient gentle self. When he kissed her, she cried out in pain because somehow he caught his tooth on her lip. (It didn’t draw blood.) And when we posed for a photo with me holding a dog biscuit, it didn’t create his usual “cute look,” but rather a crazed expression that made me fear he would snap at me, so I quickly gave it to him.
Deb and I walked Winston around the neighborhood. I haven’t been strong enough to do that with them… ever since I met Deb almost 6 years ago. It was either Deb and Winston or Deb pushing me in the wheelchair.
It’s hard to accept that as I get stronger, Winston gets weaker, that our paths are diverging. It doesn’t seem fair that he stayed home with me for so many years while I slowly regained the ability to walk, and now that I am strong enough to walk him, it’s almost too late for Winston. It doesn’t seem fair that he had wait behind in the house, howling, while I took short walks until I was strong enough to hold him on the leash again. I promised him that I was doing it so I could get strong enough for us to walk together again. The dream of walking Winston again is part of what inspired me to keep trying to heal, against the odds and despite the difficulties.
Well, at least I did start walking Winston again this summer -- beginning on July 12, to be exact. So we have this special time together in his elder years.
Deb watched him walking today and judged that he is not in pain, but that there is nerve damage due to hip dysplasia. She has a lot of wisdom from years of working with dogs.
“For your sake, I wish he could keep going forever,” she said. “The thing to remember now is that he had a great life.”
“Yes, we had lots of adventures together. And even when we weren’t having adventures, we were together almost all the time.”
“That’s the main thing,” Deb said.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Senior dog on pain meds
from Dec. 17, 2007
We took Winston to the vet who prescribed Rimadyl for his arthritis pain and hip dysplasia. We started Winston on Rimadyl on Saturday night, Dec. 15 -- half a pill instead of a whole one because I think they tend to make the doses too high. He certainly seemed to be feeling less pain. It was great when he got up to be petted when I woke up. But not so great at dinnertime when he overdid.
Our usual routine is for me to go out in the backyard with him and be a cheerleader while he runs around the edge of the yard 6 times: “Go, go, go! All the way! One more time! Last time! Let’s go eat!”
The vet had told me not to make him run anymore, but just to walk him. For the last month or so he didn’t run no matter how much I cheered, but it did encourage him to walk around the yard. Loaded with pain meds, Winston WANTED to run. Without any encouragement from me, he dashed around the yard 4 times. The sound of his footsteps was off, like two legs and a stump. He must have been running with his 2 hind feet together. He came in and ate really fast. He had a crazed look in his eye as he stumbled some on his hind legs. Perhaps he was thinking, “My legs don’t hurt, but they don’t work, either.”
He rested few minutes, then heard me chopping a tomato and came for a handout as he often does. I held a piece out for him. He always takes it gently, but for the first time ever he snapped at me, biting down on my fingers til it hurt as he took the treat. I’ve never felt afraid of Winston until then. I scolded him and he didn’t even look guilty, just dazed.
After he rested an hour he seemed back to normal -- that is, the new normal of slow, stiff movement. But I didn’t feel normal inside. It upset me to think that Winston’s running days may be over. “Winston has to get used to the fact that he’s crippled -- and so do we,” Andre said.
I’m not used to it and I haven’t given up yet. I had nightmares about it and I kept hearing the disturbing sound of his offbeat footsteps in my dreams.
We took Winston to the vet who prescribed Rimadyl for his arthritis pain and hip dysplasia. We started Winston on Rimadyl on Saturday night, Dec. 15 -- half a pill instead of a whole one because I think they tend to make the doses too high. He certainly seemed to be feeling less pain. It was great when he got up to be petted when I woke up. But not so great at dinnertime when he overdid.
Our usual routine is for me to go out in the backyard with him and be a cheerleader while he runs around the edge of the yard 6 times: “Go, go, go! All the way! One more time! Last time! Let’s go eat!”
The vet had told me not to make him run anymore, but just to walk him. For the last month or so he didn’t run no matter how much I cheered, but it did encourage him to walk around the yard. Loaded with pain meds, Winston WANTED to run. Without any encouragement from me, he dashed around the yard 4 times. The sound of his footsteps was off, like two legs and a stump. He must have been running with his 2 hind feet together. He came in and ate really fast. He had a crazed look in his eye as he stumbled some on his hind legs. Perhaps he was thinking, “My legs don’t hurt, but they don’t work, either.”
He rested few minutes, then heard me chopping a tomato and came for a handout as he often does. I held a piece out for him. He always takes it gently, but for the first time ever he snapped at me, biting down on my fingers til it hurt as he took the treat. I’ve never felt afraid of Winston until then. I scolded him and he didn’t even look guilty, just dazed.
After he rested an hour he seemed back to normal -- that is, the new normal of slow, stiff movement. But I didn’t feel normal inside. It upset me to think that Winston’s running days may be over. “Winston has to get used to the fact that he’s crippled -- and so do we,” Andre said.
I’m not used to it and I haven’t given up yet. I had nightmares about it and I kept hearing the disturbing sound of his offbeat footsteps in my dreams.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
