Ottoman-shaped dog's medications to ease the course of his illness -- an NSAID and a stomach-protecting agent -- arrived in the mail today. It was carefully packaged with a magnet with the pharmaceutical company's contact information, a leaflet on side effects of one of the drugs, and a dog biscuit. For some reason, the biscuit was heartbreaking.
Herself has been debating when to start the medications. There may be side effects to them, most notably gastrointestinal effects. Should she wait until after next weekend, to avoid possible issues while they are taking a previously-planned trip with the dogs in the camper-trailer? That might be wise. Yet she does not know how aggressive his bladder tumor is; what if it is developing quickly and starts interfering with his kidney function or (a horrible possibility) his ability to urinate at all? Those are medical emergencies. She'd like to avoid having to find a veterinarian while she is taking a short and much-needed vacation. So perhaps she should she start the medications now, in the hopes that any side effects will turn up promptly so they can be addressed as needed prior to the trip. All the same, side effects may not be immediately apparent. Or the tumor may advance anyway. Who knows?
She chose to give him the first dose this evening. She is watching him carefully. Waiting. What will happen?
It is quite difficult, this not knowing. Noble dog has seen The Grim. How long? How short? Will it be a quiet slipping away, or a painful crisis? There is no way to tell.
He is such a faithful and devoted canine companion, rejoicing in his spot near the front door whenever he sees Herself returning home, lying down next to her comfortingly when she is ill or sad, following her around the house to be nearby while she does her chores. How heartbreaking it will be to return home when he no longer waits patiently by the door for her. She can hardly bear the thought.
Right now, it is enough to know that he is nearby, snoring softly.
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1 year ago
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