A quick update to let you know that Gypsy’s tests revealed that it was nothing infectious which had caused her tummy ache. This means she must have over indulged on the green grass. We have the word of the most highly regarded vet hospital in the country that it was NOT communicable. Luckily for everyone this means Gypsy has rejoined the herd and I can again go up & visit her! She is back to feeling her good old self. Hope it sticks!
Archive for October, 2010|Monthly archive page
In Monty Python’s film ” The Meaning of Life” nothing is sacred. In one scene an obese man explodes in a restaurant after greedily eating a gigantic meal . In yet another scene a teacher and his wife personally demonstrate to the class of young boys what sexual intercourse is between a man and a woman…
Why then would they tackle the subject of organ donation with any less vigor? In the scene in question a knock comes at a man’s door. “Hello, can we have your liver?” asks John Cleese, clad in a white coat on the doorstep, “But, I’m (still) using it!!!” objects the resident. His wife comes along as Cleese and company are ripping the liver from her screaming husband, “is this because he took out one of those silly cards?,” she asks, and then adds, “Typical of him! Always full of good intentions!”
While art –in this case comedy– can turn our eyes inwards, scenes like this, urban legends, and other myths have done much to discourage organ donation in our society. At the crux of the matter is the fact that organ donation can save lives. Many lives. When you pass away your thoughtfulness and selflessness can give someone back a life they might otherwise not live.
Here is that myth debunked.
THE MYTH: If I sign my donor card or register my consent & I become injured or sick, the Doctors will not take every care to keep me alive. Instead they will let me die with an eye towards harvesting my organs.
MYTH BUSTED: The registry can’t be accessed until a person is declared dead. Also, ICU doctors are a different bunch than the Transplant Docs. You need two independent docs trained in the diagnosis of brain death to proceed to donation. No two docs, no donation.
Mysteriously last Friday Gypsy began to colic (get a stomach ache) which she has NEVER done in the over twenty years I’ve owned her. It *can* be a very serious ailment. But the vet Friday thought she’s be okay with a little pain killer guessing it was too much sweet grass that set her off. (I learned that grass gets sweeter in response to cold nights) Saturday was no better, and she was no longer interested in food. Another emergency vet call…. more medicine, and it still had not resolved by Sunday and so…. off to the Ontario Vet College she went. Not the sort of journey I like to make with my best friend.
Once there they set her up in an isolation stall which looks much like a prison cell, only with wood shavings as bedding. It was a hard thing to leave her there but I knew it was for the best. She’d get 24/7 surveillance there and all the medical attention she might need. When I was saying “see you later” she actually turned her back to me! NOT PLEASED AT ME AT ALL! Not only did I make her ride in the trailer with a tummy ache, but the vets had hands up her bum, and a hose down her nose, etc etc. Poor lamb.
But if her recovery continues like this I’ll have her home tomorrow. But since it was a long weekend the lab was not open for us to decipher the results from her tests. Mostly we are trying to diagnose if something other than too much grass caused her colitis. Perhaps something she got into? It may remain a mystery. I feel terrible about her being there and even worse that I am not allowed to visit her. MY BEST FRIEND!!!!
Henry pup has had a better few days, and begged without shame at Thanksgiving dinner, but even for him I fear the clock is ticking. He’s less and less interested in food and can be a terrible patient when it comes to giving his multitude of pills. Ultimately Tom feels the winter will decide how long Henry stays around: if it’s a slippery icy winter that might not bode well for our old arthritic dog, though I do have a treadmill he could ride to keep fit if the sidewalks are too deep in snow drifts. Last winter was actually a soft one and he did great. Fingers crossed, Mother Nature, fingers crossed.
Our old friend Kenneth tied the knot last weekend with his belle Dianna. We had the pleasure of attending their beautiful ceremony in Austin Texas where they live, with Tom in the role of minister (Universal Life Ministry, dontcha’ know!) It was the first time I’ve played the role of “preacher’s wife!”
Kenneth made sure that our short stay was jam packed with good times. Tom drank, and I danced at the honky-tonks known as “the Broken Spoke” and “The Continental Club”. I did the two-step and was quite getting the hang of it (it being slightly different from the lindy hop I know so well…) hell I even danced a polka! Not once did I even feel sick: but I did remember to take my pills ya’ll! Had some good dances to fine country bands with handsome strangers in Wranglers… as well as with the preacher, wink!
Food. Um. Hello: pulled pork, bbq brisket, tacos, even french bistro dining! A textural gastronomic delight. But, even though it was 80 degrees and sunny I should mention that this was certainly a business trip with Tom being there in a very official capacity as a wedding officiary. That being said, I did catch him swinging in a hammock, and riding in the back of a 1965 Chevy pick-up truck beside me: a mode of conveyance second only the horse in my opinion.
We got word from my Mother, however, that Henry had suffered some sort of panic attack (probably brought on as a result of a recent drug change which sought to improve his arthritis pain) and had gone berserk for about five minutes. We were very anxious to get home and see man’s best friend again. But… preacher or no, we couldn’t convince the United staff to let us board our connecting flight in Denver. It was infuriating because we could see our plane: they were still loading luggage in it, but they wouldn’t let us board because they are evil. They laughed at us! We were stuck spending the night in Denver…. Oh well…. we watched the sunset on the rocky mountains from the airport platform, had a lovely meal and heard a good funk band at a neat jazz club. It’s called making the best of a bad situation. Even when I was getting the pat-down by security I just tried to keep on the bright side (and we’re talking full frisk! you try wearing a respirator in an airport during an orange terror alert!)
Now home, we are trying very hard to get to the bottom of just what is wrong with our little dog… perhaps it’s just that pernicious thing called age. It sucks, anyways. It just reminds me to enjoy every day I have, and that we have, which is really our Modus Op these days… Till next time… Happy Thanksgiving, and as the Texans say, “God Bless, ya’ll!”