Yet Another Journal

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» Sunday, November 17, 2024
The Dreadful Week
 
There was no warning. It began fine: I had bought James a new duffle bag for our anniversary to take to dialysis (the old bag was falling apart). It has a separate compartment intended for gym shoes or a wet towel/swimsuit, and we have put his blanket in there. He doesn't really needed it, because now that he's on dialysis, he's not cold all the time. There's a compartment for his sugar-free mints, one for his snacks and visor, one for his water bottle and a juice box, one for his TV schedule, and then the inner compartment has a pocket into which he has two paperback books. The central compartment now just holds his noise-cancelling headphones (dialysis clinics are loud), his neck pillow, and his tablet (charged daily so he can watch Battlebots and whatever that Sylvester Stallone show is).

Tuesday was a disaster. James twisted, thrashed, and kicked because he was in pain all night. Needless to say I didn't sleep, and we went to Hanger to get his back brace fitted in very ill tempers. As we pulled out of the driveway a car stopped in front of us and the driver got out.

I've talked many times about Tucker's adversarial relationship with Max, the German Shepherd on the corner. I don't know how much I've mentioned his relationship with Champion, the German Shepherd down at the end of the street. His people rent a house in the lower cul-de-sac. I watched Champion from when he was a young dog. He has always approached Tucker with curiosity--"Oh, look, what a cute little dog!"--and Tucker approached him back with his head up and his tail wagging obligingly. It was obvious they both wanted to play together, but of course his person was walking him one way, and I was walking Tucker the other.

It was Champion's owner who stopped to talk to us: Champion DIED on Monday; he said they didn't know why.

We couldn't go home afterwards because James was scheduled for the bone scan at Kaiser, so we spent about a half-hour in Barnes & Noble before heading to Townpark. I was quite woozy and sick; we were going to stop at Walmart for yogurt and I was so sick we didn't. I did manage to get us a couple of treats in Bernhard's Bakery.

I was feeling better Wednesday, so after finishing the Lidl/Publix/Kroger grocery route, stopped at Walmart on the way home for the yogurt. In the evening I finally bit the bullet and ordered new phones. My current cell reboots at odd times and loses connection on local streets, and it's beginning to eat battery. I got James a desert tan color and I got a red one. Maybe it will be easier to find.

Then...out of nowhere, James got up Thursday morning, went out to make breakfast, and found out Tucker had vomited on the floor. Sometimes he does just get an upset stomach and vomit. But Wednesday he only ate one dog biscuit and a mouthful of rice in beef stock. He was listless and his eyes were tragic and he'd only drink if he licked it off my hands during the day. He drank more at night and ate a couple more dog biscuits. By afternoon I called Riverview and made him an appointment for the next day.

Thursday Tucker wouldn't even walk down the stairs voluntarily. I scooped him up and carried him on his back in his blanket and he just lay there. He hates being held upside down. His breath was raspy.

He stayed at the vet the rest of the day and overnight. He had a high fever (105℉!) and diarrhea and had IVs getting antibiotics into him and helping his dehydration.

We went to pick him up but he was limp and listless on Friday. I had to feed him with Hill's Urgent Care soft food with a syringe, and this was the only time he struggled. He has a dangerously low level of white blood cells in his body, can't go near other dogs and we have to watch him because he's susceptible to sepsis. It was so bad Saturday night I had a meltdown. This is too fucking much. First it was Oliver, then James in the hospital, then James at home, then the falls, and now it's poor Tucker. I felt totally helpless.

Sunday was a little better, as I did get some stuff done, but a real struggle to feed Tucker via syringe (I mean, I get it! I would hate it, too!).

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