The DC Disaster

   News story this morning: A local student band went on a trip to NYC. On their last night, they ate dinner at an Italian restaurant before boarding their buses to come home. And shortly thereafter, thirty-five of them got sick on the bus & had to spend the night at a hospital in Pennsylvania: food poisoning and dehydration.   This was a total case of deja vu for me. My 8th grade class took a bus trip to Washington DC. We spent several days visiting the Smithsonian, the Lincoln Memorial, Arlington National Cemetery, the Washington Monument, the Jefferson Memorial, the Capitol building, and the National Gallery of Art, among others. It was a fantastic trip.
   On the last night, we ate Italian food at the restaurant in the hotel, boarded the buses, and settled in for sleeping the hours away as we headed home. It was supposed to be peaceful. But somewhere in Virginia, everyones' stomachs went south, and we made an unscheduled stop at an emergency room. I was one of the unlucky ones with stomach cramps and vomiting. One of my friends, Amy, started to suffer from hypoglycemia, and John, who was diabetic, began to have seizures. As they were seated in the row right behind me, it was really scary. We too were diagnosed with food poisoning and dehydration. Imagine an emergency room full of exhausted, sick eighth graders in the middle of the night. Eventually we were evaluated, treated, and were returned to the bus.
   Of course, I was in eighth grade well before the invention of cell phones, so parents, expecting us to arrive back at the school at 6 or 7 am, learned through a series of calls that we would be delayed. They were excited when we finally returned several hours behind schedule, and we were very glad to be home!
   Soon after, one of the parents came up with a fundraiser idea: she sold bright gold shirts with big blue letters that said, "I survived the DC disaster!" I had mine for years. Kind of wondering if it's still somewhere in Mom's house. My heart goes out to this band, as I know all too well what that experience was like!

Fun with Surgery

   I was just talking with Joni about my surgery experience and it made me remember a couple of things that happened. We've all heard horror stories where a doctor has operated on the wrong limb; and apparently they've implemented some clever ways to prevent this mistake. When the nurse first brought me back, she asked me several times which ankle required surgery. Then she sat me on a gurney and handed me a permanent marker. She told me to write my initials on the foot that they would be operating on. Once I had marked my "JR" on my right foot, she wrapped black and yellow tape around my left leg that said, "DO NOT OPERATE".
   We also talked about the vasovagal episode I had, and about the possible causes. Nervousness is an obvious one, but honestly I was SO excited and looking forward to having this surgery done, hoping it would alleviate my pain. I didn't feel nervous that day—I felt hopeful. As we talked through it, though, I realized that for me it was probably mistrust of that nurse, who would be caring for me. One of the first things she said to me that day was, "So you don't have any allergies..." and I immediately became worried that no one had bothered to read all the information that I had carefully gathered—at their request. I had submitted all my allergy and medication information days earlier, and even followed up with the receptionist to make sure they had received it, and she and I went over it together in excruciating detail. When I responded with, "No—I have a LOT of allergies! Did you not receive the information I provided?"  she seemed irritated and just said, "It's probably here in your folder."
   Given that I didn't trust her (and I think, for very good reason!), I think it's reasonable to think that having her care for me made me nervous, hence my involuntary reaction to the IV and anesthetic. The surgicenter sent a survey to me yesterday, asking about all aspects of my experience. I read through it, and waited several hours to fill it out, wanting to provide a true and thoughtful response. My feedback was glowing overall, but I was very honest about my thoughts on that nurse, how I felt she treated me, and how I didn't appreciate the snarky comments about me and eye-rolling she did when talking to Kelly. I hope that the surgicenter will address this with her and deal with it appropriately. My name was on the survey, so time will tell!

Recovery...

   Well, I came out of surgery just fine... Going in turned out to be the tough part. I disliked the main nurse almost immediately. She was curt and abrasive, which I wasn't in the mood for, considering that this was my first surgery, and that my life was in this staff's hands. I tried to be as nice & sweet as possible in response to her. I donned the gown, settled in on the gurney, and the nurse inserted the IV. No big deal. Until...
   I had a really intense vasovagal reaction a few minutes later. Apparently I went white as a sheet as my blood pressure dropped dramatically, causing intense dizziness, nausea, and visual disturbances (not to mention a lot of beeping from the machine). Judging from the level of freaking out from the three nurses that I heard before I passed out, I knew it was not good. They injected me a couple of times (ephedrine, if I remember correctly?) to bring me back & get me stabilized. This was perhaps the single most scary experience I've had in my life. I honestly thought that I was going to die.
   After what felt like eons, they got my blood pressure back up and I returned to normal, with a residual splitting headache. I don't remember them putting me back on the meds to knock me out, or taking me back to surgery. According to Kelly, who consulted with the surgeon while I was recovering, the cyst was larger and much deeper than anticipated. He had difficulty getting to it, and he suspects I'll be in more pain than initially projected because of this. The procedure took a full two hours, but it went well. 
   I woke up in the same room, same gurney, with the same pushy nurse at my side. I was barely coming to, and she was forcefully getting me dressed and sitting me up. I was EXTREMELY nauseated and dizzy—the whole room was spinning, and I could barely hold my head up. My body might as well have been a wet noodle. I kept telling her that I was going to throw up and I needed to lie down, and she kept physically forcing me to sit up. She even brought in the other two other nurses as reinforcements. I felt surprisingly lucid, and at one point I said, "I don't understand why no one is listening to me—I am extremely dizzy and I need to lie down for a minute so I won't get sick!" And she responded by forcing me to my feet and then into a wheelchair and—literally—dragging me in to Kelly's car. Seriously? You can't let me sit for a few minutes?? Sounds like I'm not the only one who needs to be on some meds.

The boys are taking good care of me!  :)

   I guess if that's the worst of it, then I can be grateful for that. Kelly brought me home, picked up my pain meds at the pharmacy, and made sure I was comfortable. Thank goodness for good friends!
   The rest of the evening I continued to feel strangely alert, without any of the zombielike symptoms I anticipated from the anesthetic. I relaxed on the couch, iced my ankle, ate a big dinner, and took my first dose of painkillers after seven hours. I would assume that the worst is yet to come in terms of pain management, but I am so relieved to have the surgery behind me, and SO EXCITED to have the potential for a pain-free ankle ahead of me!

Shout out to Red Bridge Animal Clinic

   I lost Atom just 4 days ago, and today I received a letter in the mail from K State University that Red Bridge had made a significant contribution to their veterinary program in Atom's name. I'm not sure how common a gesture this is (I have not heard of this before), but I thought that was pretty amazing, and a great tribute to a pet I loved very much—helping to educate the next generation of veterinarians!

   P.S. Kristin just sent a photo of her new, sweet, adorable, contraband cat, Mr. Drizzle. Don't tell her landlord!

Atom Drawing

   My friend Dave called tonight to check in on me, and while we were chatting, I drew this cartoon Atom. It simply says, "Atom was a very good kitty."

My Heart is Breaking...

   Unfortunately, the good morning did not carry into the afternoon. When I arrived at the vet, Atom's blood was being drawn, to see if 2.5 days on IV fluids had improved his numbers. Their blood machine wasn't working correctly, so I had to wait. I talked to the vet tech—who was awesome and made me feel good—and Atom sat in the kennel and purred as I rubbed his head. He looked tired, but not bad. But when Dr. Ebeling came up, I could tell it wasn't good news. Atom's creatinine had gone UP, not down. He was worse despite the treatment.
   There aren't many options. Any time spent off the IV, for now, will make him lose ground. There is no guarantee that he can get better, but since he looked good, the doc and the tech recommended up to 3 more days on the IV. Some cats DO overcome this. Their office isn't open on Sunday, and no one would be there to monitor Atom round-the-clock. So he had to go to the emergency vet, at least until Monday morning.
   I followed their advice and took Atom home to feed him, since he hadn't eaten in 24 hours. He was either too uncomfortable, or just too bewildered from staying at the vet's office. He refused to eat. He didn't want to be held. I could tell he didn't feel good. So I picked up Kelly and we took him to the e-vet, discussed all the options and I failed to fight back my tears. Atom looked good, but didn't feel good enough to eat. I hated to subject him to more treatment, but I also didn't want to give up on him too soon. It was heart wrenching.
   Euthanasia can be the kindest gift that we give our pets, to end their suffering. But when it's so unclear if they are ready to give up, or trying to rally, then the owner suffers. With Atom I just can't tell. I decided to leave him at the e-vet until Monday, transfer him to my own vet, and have them check his blood again. If he is improved, I'll let them administer more fluids. If he hasn't eaten or his levels worsen, then the decision will be made for me. I feel helpless. I love him so much and will only keep pushing if his quality of life is still good. But even if he is declining, on some level I will feel that I'm killing my friend.
   It has been many years, thankfully, that I've had to make this decision. It never gets easier.
   I'm going to spend tomorrow with friends, so that I won't be cooped up in my house with Atom being conspicuously absent. If you're reading this, please keep us in your thoughts.

Sunrise Surprises

   I got moving early this morning for an intense Vinyassa class at Darling Yoga. It was my last day for the Groupon, and I wanted to make it count. As I signed in at the desk, I noticed the name before me was a woman named Sawako... Not your standard name in the Midwest! I went into the studio, laid out my mat and started stretching. Two women came in and set up across from me.
   One said, "What is it again?" And her friend answered, "Kon-ni-chi-wa." They went back and forth until the first woman pronounced it correctly. (Well, almost correctly!)
   I finally got up the nerve to say「おはようございます!」
   The Japanese woman, Sawako, did a double-take. 「ああ！日本語が話せます？」
 「はい、でも少しだけ出来ますよ。」
   She looked shocked. She complimented me on my speaking and pronunciation, to which I demurred. I haven't practiced in over 3 years! Her friend jumped in, "She just moved here from Japan with her husband five months ago."
   We talked for a few more minutes, until Emily came in to lead the class. I couldn't wait to talk to Sawako some more. After 90 minutes of challenging yoga that included half moon, reversed half moon, crow, handstands and more, we finally got to meet out in the lobby.
   Sawako lived her whole life in Okinawa, which has a climate like Hawaii. She has seen snow, but never lived in a cold and snowy place. I told her about the climate, and not to believe anyone who said that Kansas City has nothing to do. I told her about some of my favorite things, including One Bite Japanese Grill, for when she has a craving for home-cooking and authentic okonomiyaki. She said she needed to practice her English, since in middle school she was taught British English, and in high school, American English. She still finds the accents confusing, though it was hard to believe considering how well she spoke. I told her I'd love to have someone to practice Japanese with too. I gave her my business card and sincerely hope that she'll get in touch. I so enjoyed talking with her!
   When I returned home, I found Bob, my next-door neighbor, mowing and mulching my front yard. I love my neighbors!!!
   It was a gorgeous day, and I was hoping for a good one. I went to pick up Atom from the vet at noon, to find out if the IV fluid treatments kicked his kidneys back in gear. Before I knew Atom was sick, Kelly and I had planned to take the pups up to Weston today for a beautiful fall hike. Today seemed too perfect and gorgeous for bad news, so I was counting on Atom to pull through...

   And so was his best buddy, Gypsy. She's been missing him ever since I dropped him at the vet yesterday morning... And following me around, clinging to me, meowing and purring incessantly. I can't sit down without her muscle-ing into my lap, even if I playfully hold her back. I could tell she would be so happy when Lil' Attie returned!

An Expensive Lesson

- One pack of Orbit gum with Xylitol: $1.37
- Trip to emergency vet from Midnight to 3 am to induce vomiting
   and to run bloodwork: $149.00
- Day at the veterinarian for monitoring and 3 blood screenings: $59.00
- Bringing your best friend back home with tail wagging: Priceless!

   Here's my Public Service Announcement. The following foods are poisonous to dogs and should never be fed to them: chocolate, grapes, raisins, avocado, onion, garlic, mushrooms, macadamia nuts, fat trimmings, caffeine, alcohol.

   Poinsettias and Easter lilies are poisonous too.

   Cooked bones, and fish bones are dangerous because they can splinter and lacerate the dog's insides.

   Xylitol and pennies are extremely dangerous because both are broken down quickly and can destroy the liver in a matter of hours.

   All should be kept well out of a dog's reach. I would have thought my gum was safe hidden in a bag on a high counter, but the tropical fruit scent was too alluring, and somehow, he nabbed it. Fortunately I acted quickly when I discovered that Taylor had eaten the gum, and so far he seems to be doing well. We'll know how his liver fares in a few days.

The patient, resting comfortably

Getting comfortable-er...

Hittin' the Bottle

   I've been parked on the family room sofa ALL DAY trying to finish the Art Unleashed t-shirts. And around 11 pm, fading fast, ready to go to sleep but trying to power through. Then I heard rustling upstairs and went to investigate. I found a smug Mr. Taylor and a few remaining scraps of paper and foil from a brand new pack of gum.
   I knew this could be very bad, and confirmed that the gum contains Xylitol, which is poisonous to dogs (miraculously, the ingredients were one shred of packaging that he didn't eat, so I knew for sure). A call to the very helpful Erica at Mission Med Vet told me I needed to administer 1 T of Hydrogen Peroxide, and wait. And thus begins Vomit Watch 2011. My boy needs to throw it all up to avoid being rushed to the vet. Nothing's happening yet.
   We're outside, and thunderstorms are imminent. I need to finish these t-shirt designs. I need to get to work early to finish preparations for my business trip. I need to know my boy will be okay before I go. I need a break here... :(

    This $1.37 pack of gum has already cost me an additional $150 and I'll rack up more today. Sigh. But if my boy's okay, that's all I could ask for. I can make more money, but this bratty dog is definitely one of a kind.

Strange Week

   This has been a strange week overall, and I'm glad it is coming to an end, I must say. I'm still trying to get over the evil tick bites from a couple of weeks ago and feel like I'm at about 60%. Work is intensely busy: mostly good stuff, but still stressful. My Mom was attacked at school this week by one of her students, requiring a trip to the hospital. And to find Aki suddenly incapacitated on Monday night and thinking I might lose her... well, it's all been a bit much.

Her Sphinx-dog pose signals that she's hungry for dinner

   But I'm thrilled to report that my Mom is going to be okay (the most important thing of all, obviously!), and Aki continues to improve. Tonight she even joined Taylor in a spirited roll in the grass. 

   It was hard going running this week without her. When Tay & I walked out the door you could read the, "Hey! What about ME?!" right on her face. It was heartbreaking to leave her at home, but my hope is that she'll be healed and back out with us soon. Tay needs a break, too... we've been running so much that the pads on his front paws are worn down. So I guess we're one big, gimpy, happy family. Weeks like this, you've gotta count all the blessings that you do have and do the best you can.

Aki Update

   Sincere thanks to everyone for expressing your concern for Aki...
I really appreciate your kind words and wishes! It means a lot.

   Here's the update: Last night was tough. She was uncomfortable and restless, and she had a few more gagging spells (no food in her stomach this time, fortunately). I took her to the vet early this morning for another check.

   By the time I arrived at Red Bridge Animal Clinic (LOVE those guys! And I have to thank my friend Joni for recommending them to me 13+ years ago!), Dr. Rad had already reviewed her bloodwork and x-rays from last night, and agreed with Dr. Miller that everything looked good. She was perkier this morning and able to walk, but her back legs are very stiff, her muscles are constantly having spasms, and her stomach feels tense. She can't sit or lie down without difficulty: she looks like a 16-year-old arthritic dog trying to move. Poor baby.

   Dr. Rad's best guess is that she injured her back somehow: possibly by falling down the stairs, jumping and landing badly, or wrestling with Taylor. Her pain could be due to a herniated disc. So I need to keep her as quiet as possible for at least 2 weeks and monitor her. He suggested that she stay for the day so he could observe her, and then I could pick her up tonight.

   It felt strange to leave her at the vet, and Tay thought so too. (He was in the car; when one goes to the vet, the other is always on ride-along.) I worked at home today and it was touching to see how distraught he was... he paced and moped around all day, sighing and looking for her. I was proud of him for lying next to her when she was hurt yesterday. (I can't even imagine how hard it's going to be someday when I do lose one of them... we're all going to be a mess!)

   I headed back at 5:00 to get Aki, and she was so glad to see me... but not half as glad as she was to see Taylor! You would have thought they'd been separated for days. Now they're snuggled up on my feet, on the couch, with both kitties too. If you don't hear from me again, I may have been smothered by animals. I'll keep Aki on the Rimadyl (pain med) for a few days and lay off the jogging with her, and hopefully she'll be back to her old self soon.
   Looks like it'll be up to me & Tay this year to see if we can place in our 4th Dog-n-Jog in a row... and speaking of that, take a look at HSGKC's home page: that's Aki running on the right side of the photo! If you want to give us a run for our money, register yourself & your dog to run, or consider donating for this great cause.

MR...I need to get outta here!!!

   Today was awesome. And by "awesome," I mean "completely not awesome." First off, I found out that I/T, while "fixing" my Blackberry, accidentally nuked all my emails prior to August 23, and I lost a ton of saved work that I'm going to have to re-do. Hmm. Kinda thought they'd back that up. Since we discussed it at length. Oops.

   Then in the afternoon I went for the MRI/arthrogram that my orthopedist called for, to see if I tore something important in my hip joint over the last 6 weeks, with all the running, swimming, yoga, hiking (that'll teach me to be healthy!) and massage (that'll teach me to be a hedonist!). I had an arthrogram on my carpal tunnel about 10 years ago, so fortunately the memory of how awful it was had faded. But it returned rather quickly, despite my attempt to be tough.

   The doc & technician were super-nice. They were very thorough in explaining what they were going to do; so thorough, in fact, that I almost fainted before the procedure even started. The gist is that they painstakingly mark a spot to guide them, numb you, and then insert a needle that I swear to God must have rivaled the size of the Space Needle, judging from the pain I felt over & over again as it was inserted. I found myself chanting, "not numb... not numb... not numb... NOT NUMB... NOT NUMB!!!" 

The doc didn't seem to believe me. His look said, "But I've given you PLENTY of numbing medicine!" Not plenty enough, mister! Are we trying to save money and skimp on the meds? Load me up!!! I don't know if he was hitting bone or what, but if I wanted to torture myself it would be much quicker to just stab myself in the eye with a fork. The point was to inject dye + Lidocaine into the tiny cavity between my femur & pelvis so that the labrum (which might be torn) would be more visible in the MRI. If the dye leaked out, it's surgery time.

   The one thing that was kinda cool (between deep breaths because it also brought me close to fainting) was to look up & see the needle & the dye illuminating my labrum on the x-ray monitor in front of me. They wouldn't let me take photos due to HIPAA (boo!) but I found a photo on Wiki that looks pretty much like it:

   Next I had to very carefully lift myself onto a gurney without moving my left hip, because if the dye moved too much it could botch the procedure & I'd have to do it all again. (Not going to happen.) The tech wheeled me into the MRI room, where it was impossible to see anything except the ginormous GE logo on the machine. Also, the tininess of the tube he intended to slide me into. I hope there's a Slip & Slide nearby so I can get some momentum going!

   The tech set a heavy breastplate on me (to hold me down???) that looked freakishly like the ribcage of a skeleton, as if to let me know what I would look like if the machine malfunctioned & burned off all my flesh. He kindly asked what radio station I liked & handed me a large pair of headphones. It didn't matter. The machine made so much noise that I couldn't hear it anyway. So I lay there perfectly still, eyes closed, imagining the creatures that would make the kind of noises I was hearing. If that's as good as hallucination gets, you can have it!

   I would recommend an MRI to anyone who hates quiet, loves cramming themselves into small spaces, and wants 35 minutes to feel like 3500 hours. Tune in for the exciting update next week.