I blame the cat...

How many times have you seen this as a meme...I can honestly say it this morning. I blame the cat.

So George had two very frightening episodes. The first he came out of within an hour, the second landed him at the emergency vet overnight. The current thinking is it's something to do with his neck. When he has these episodes he can't stand up and gets frightened and distressed, as do I.

He is on gabapentin every 8 hours. 6 AM, 2 PM, 10 PM. Prednisone every 12 hours 6 AM and 6 PM.

I have calendarized all his pills and set alarms on my phone. The alarm goes off - I check the calendar notification for the pill to be sure. I do this because the first night he was home I gave him his gaba, 4 hours early at 6 PM because 6 was stuck in my head. It was a mistake - I called the emergency vet and they said, not to worry, he will just be extra sleepy and wait 8 hours to give it to him again. So 2 AM...Over the course of the week, I have been able to get him back on the regular schedule, by messing up one more time.

I am sleeping on the sofa. George is sleeping on blankets and towels that cover 90% of my floor. I had 80% covered but he kept going to the spot where his slumber ball was, and no longer is. I don't want him there because it's in front of the entertainment system where he had flailed about. I don't want him hurting himself.

Yesterday he was pacing to find his spot to settle in; I kept leading him back to the center of the room. Skesicks waited until I was in the bathroom, looked in at me from the end of the living room (yes the door was open, I am single and own a greyhound and a curious cat - I am rarely alone) then proceeded to go to the exact spot I didn't want him to go and laid down. Meanwhile, I am hollering from the throne - I can't see him at this point - George, George? George! don't lie down there! George! Lie on your bed! George? George! When I came out, he was there on the bare floor. The stress in my shoulders and neck tightened like the knots in my cousin Betsi's necklaces. I did pause to wonder, why couldn't it be my abs? I would have rock hard abs by now.

I put blankets around him and finally helped him up an hour later when he wanted to get up, it was an I told you so moment, but I didn't tell him so, because where is the win? Poor bud. So now 90% of my floor is covered.

As I mentioned I am sleeping on the sofa; we are all camping out in the living room. That is one of my silver linings. I always wanted to go camping with George. We are now camping together, all of us, including the cat, who I might add has been really patient and has taken a back-row seat. No longer demanding my attention, just sleeping near George.

I have been sleeping with a small light on so I can immediately see everything when I wake up, either to an alarm or random noise.

I was asleep on the sofa, and I heard something - the cat was trying to wake me up. Meow, meow, pat my face, meow...I thought I had heard a ding from my phone, in 10 minutes the alarm would go off.

I said give me just one more minute Simba, I was exhausted. I closed my eyes and then I heard Simba playing with and chewing on the elastic band on my Kindle cover. Over the years of trial and error, he knows that's the fasted way to get me to react, not a hairball, I can tackle that in the morning.

I realized I had fallen asleep. I had missed George's 6 AM pills but by how much? George was asleep, sort of, with one eye on me. I fumbled for my phone but picked up my apple tv remote instead. I couldn't find the alarm I was swiping my fingers all over it - there wasn't one - it was the bleeping tv remote.

I woke all the way up and went into the kitchen. I looked at the clock on the stove and saw I was a half-hour late. Pulled out the hot dog, pulled out the pills, stuffed it all together and was about to give George his meds, when I thought - double check! I went to my 'real' phone, fumbled to the notifications - yes - "Next up - Gabapentin and Prednisone at 6 AM". It pays to double-check - I have made two mistakes already.

I brought George his hot dog pill packs, he looked at me with surprise and chomped them down. He was relaxed. I was tired. I decided to wait before I fed him. He was comfortable. I laid down, then he was up on his elbows panting. I was doing the math. Last time he was out was midnight. That was 6 hours ago, prednisone makes him thirsty, when he's thirsty he drinks, he needed a pee. Up and shoes on, harness on, dog bags, keys, spied the cracks between the blinds and the window and thought it's still pretty dark, but it's also summer's end. Don't have to worry about how I was dressed for sure.

I reached for the door handle and saw the alarm control panel. 1:33. Damn, I thought - how did the time get changed on that? It was supposed to be 15 minutes off of the actual time (it has been that way since I moved in). I opened the door. It was truly dark outside; there was no glow on the horizon. I closed the door. I walked to the stove and I re-read the time. 1:47. How had that happened? I had specifically looked at the clock, I had specifically looked at my phone... apparently, when I look at a clock, I can focus on the last two numbers and not see the first? I remembered the disappointment that my phone alarm didn't go off, but the notifications were there...as they always are under "Next Up".

I took George out, then called the eVet. Lacey answered. Sweet Lacey, sounded so awake and chipper. She double-checked with the Dr. it should all be okay, no more pills until their next scheduled pills after 6 AM arrives.

I tried to tell her that I blamed the cat, she laughed and said she blames her cat when she has to do laundry, or the dishes or cleaning... no, really he woke me up...I caught myself before I went into detail about how magical he is, he can tell time, woke me up for 5:30 AM conference calls when I forgot to set my alarm... Thank you, Lacey. No problem - have a great morning she said, ah um okay...

I slept for 5 hours. George slept for 5 hours. George had no choice. I gave him gabapentin 4 hours early again. The cat, bless his furry feet, looked contrite.

George wants this camping trip to end, the cat wants my full attention, and I want a shower before I take a nap.



psiloveu.

Existing in Twilight

This morning and most of these last couple of days, I have been in a twilight zone.  Out of step and out of sorts, even now that I have my George back with me.

I live alone.  I am not frightened for myself, but for my charges.  I asked for help and my network was there.  I am so very grateful.  But before that, before the help, I was helpless,

On Thursday, last week, George had an episode where he couldn't stand up fully on his own.  He was on his slumber ball - similar to a human bean bag chair, but with stuffing instead of beads.  He was trying to get up but couldn't.  I put my foot next to his so he would have traction, it happens from time to time he can't get his foot under him on the smooth floor, but that didn't work.
So I rolled up the bag and helped him stand.  Suddenly he was stuck in a half crouch and shaking and panting.  I finally got him to lie down again and sat with him.

When he got up again he was very unsteady and walked as if he were drunk - ping ponging from side to side.  I suspected vertigo, which Izzi had experienced.  He was walking better with each walk and getting steadier.  We got into the vet the next day.

He had weakness in his hind legs, but everything else appeared normal.  He was to have a dental, and while under was going to have x-rays to get more information.  Blood drawn etc.  but okay.  Vertigo was ruled out because his eyes were steady and ears looked good.

Sunday morning it happened again only this time it didn't stop and he was flailing about.  I couldn't calm him and he was distressed.  Two hours later with the help and support of my cousin and a close friend he went to the emergency vet.  It was tears for me for hours.

The staff was confident and upbeat and helpful.  The vet was also positive, but in my minds eye all I could think was the worst.  My frailty, my vulnerability, my incompetence, my loneness, my inability to help my dog at that moment, was completely exposed.  I wasn't enough by myself.  I was terribly frightened and obsessed with the 'what if it happens again'.

They wanted to send him home, he had settled down.  Could get himself, up but not walk without assistance.  I explained I lived alone.  I asked if he could stay overnight.  I knew I didn't have what it would take to get him into the car again and back if it happened again.  I was scared, frightened and felt like a ragged piece of torn lace, hanging on by threads and I felt useless.  I spent the rest of our time apart crying for the creature who showed up for me always, and when it was my turn I fell apart.

I lost it again the next day when he was released.  He didn't want to leave, he didn't want to get into my van.  I sat and cried, then said we'd do this.  I would do this, we could do this together.  I cried all the way home.  I helped him out of the van - now that he was in he didn't want to leave there either.

I watched him like a hawk, he watched me back.  I took him for very shaky walks where he almost fell onto bushes.  I used a pillowcase to support him and the thin lead running under his chest and over his shoulder.  It was successful because he relieved himself.  I was still scared.  I felt incompetent.

I covered the floor with towels for traction, a giant comforter for his bed.  He kept avoiding the dog bed and looked for his slumber ball, but that was removed.

I kept trying to calm myself, he panted.  Six o'clock rolled around and I gave him a pill - gabapentin.  I was four hours early.  A call to the medvet informed me it was okay - he'd just be sleepy.  But don't give him one at ten, wait until two.

It was probably a good mistake, because he slept very deeply, and I was able to relax a little bit.  I stayed up until one am, then set my alarm.  Crawled onto the couch and pulled up a blanket.  I had my own pillow but not my own bed; neither did George, and the cat camped in the living room too.

My alarm went off at two am.  I pulled out his pill, a slice of cheese and added a little peanut butter to make it hold together.  I only had crunchy, so I was trying to avoid the nuts.  He took his pill, I hadn't eaten  all day so I had a spoonful of peanut butter.  It felt like I bit down on a rock, but no - I broke a tooth.

I am grateful it's not painful, but now I don't want to eat because I can't leave George alone...what if...

My moments are full of useless what ifs, fearful what ifs, impotent if onlys, floating around, filling my apartment like dusty dander, puffs of down that fill you nostrils; a suffocating fluff.

We walked at three, again at four, my alarm went off at six for the next set of pills.  I dozed in between.  I left the shades closed so I could nap but didn't.  Perpetual twilight.  Stay awake and watch, doze and dream, wake and walk and stumble and hope he sleeps again so I don't have to worry.

The first real mental break was when a greyhound friend brought a harness for George to wear until his arrives.  We walked and talked and I was able to laugh and for an hour I had a witness to help keep vigil.

The break was good.  I was able to shake some of the feeling of incompetence - to untangle the rats nest of thoughts that had made a home in my head.

I feel unsettled, and I can only imagine that George is far more unsettled.  Things are not the same.  I see his love and his fear.  I can only hope that I grab myself and snap out of it for his sake, and mine.

Today he is a bit stronger with each walk.  I removed the 70 pound seat from my van by myself so I can get George in the side door.  I will be sore for a few days,  and grateful for that because I did something to change my situation, and the ache will be a reminder that I can.

He means the world to me.  I know I need to look beyond my fear, beyond the what ifs, beyond just existing in this twilight, to a place where he is okay.  To relax and enjoy his recovery.  Because he is getting better, in spite of me.

I love you George.