Covidiocy, Sugar, and the Future Self (I'll get to her later)

Training was not the goal of this week, and I won't mention it much at all.

We traveled to see the kids at the start of the weekend - on Veteran's Day the 11th. Wisconsin Dells and a brief visit with my family. LA was feeling sick, wore a mask, but greatly improved as the 3 day weekend progressed.

Monday however his test was positive. My antigen test was negative, but a PCR was positive. So I missed the entire week from work. 

This is immensely frustrating. I felt fine, but couldn't go anywhere. The week in summary:
Mon STRENGTH push day with LA, get dog, get tested, stay home

Tuesday home with painting, stained glass, GAL meeting, and a 4.2 mile RUN in the afternoon for me. 

Wednesday home again with painting and stained glass (butterflies!, sold!) and nothing

Thursday home again and I'll come back to this day later below

Friday leave for MO, all day drive

Sat and Sun visit, then drive back all afternoon evening night

Monday today.

Hanging around the house was fun only in that I got to see Sugar all day long. Dang she could be a pesty one, wanting out, wanting in, wanting food, wanting out, wanting in. Following me and even LA everywhere. She wanted out to eat dirt over and over. She followed my every step, hung out under my chair, slept at my feet. We didn't walk much due to the cold and her intolerance, but Tuesday night I walked her after the run and one of the nights we had her out with her reflective vest and green safety light. One of these nights she scrubbed her tailfeathers on the gray chair with a silly know-better look on her face, I called her over to sit at my feet where I'd put her bed. Wednesday night? I wanted to bring her up on the couch, I wish now that I did. 

On the other nights, I carried her to the basement to sleep at the bed I moved to the stained glass area. She slept like a curled up bean behind me. And I walked and worked quietly to let her rest. And I carried her back upstairs. The wood stairs were hard for her to gain traction, and the steps were bigger. 

On Wednesday I gave her a bath. A slow, calming, warm water bath to clean the itchy raw spots she was licking on her back. Another thing I often had to interrupt - the lickies. Overnight at 230am she woke me up to go outside, she pooped, then stayed downstairs. I woke up later to two spots on the carpet - a mucousy vomit and a small soft stool. I didn't mind for some reason, just cleaned them as she watched. 

Thursday morning she had a 930 vet appointment for these spots and for annual vaccines. The vet and I talked afterwards about how a dental anesthesia isn't a good idea for her (and their dentists wouldn't want to do it) due to her age and heart murmur, now a 4/6. She'd lost more weight, another 2.5lbs to now a 37.5. The vet and I talked about changing her food to see if it helps. She got her vaccines, a cytopoint for the itching and antibiotics. 

On the way home from the vet, I stopped a Kroger to get a different back of dog food and 4 cans. And a new box of gravy coated milkbones. Why not? She'd stopped eating the fruit loops cereal and didn't eat the new berry cereal I bought last week. Peanut butter wasn't appealing to her either now. 

Home to breakfast, a normal scoop and a few scoops of the canned food. She ate heartily, I worried too fast and not chewing and expected to see it come back later on the floor. Nope, but this scene haunts me now. 

She went to bed and slept behind me at the art desk. LA was away at an appointment, and I was packaging a lamp I was trying to sell as well as some of the glass butterflies. I surfed Pinterest as she slept near me, I'd turned the space heater towards her, and I now regret that I didn't pet her. Instead, Pinterest. I also texted RM back in StL, to share the sad news that the vet and I had "the talk" this morning. And during this time, the IL Valley boarding facility I was in talks with couldn't board Sugar for christmas. Ugh. 

Around 12 or 1 LA came home. What were we doing? I dunno. My throat was still sore from covid (that was my only symptom). Sugar started wretching on the floor. It was non-productive, but after watching a bit I took her outside just in case it became a mess. This took.... I dunno.... 15-30 minutes? 

She was outside and started pacing, circling, wretching and squatting like to poop. 

It wasn't looking right. There was a frenetic energy to it. This caught our attention and I walked out to her. This took....again I don't know.... anther 15-20 minutes? Then I saw it - her abdomen was asymmetrically bulging. Huge. Really? Was it a trick of light or the angle I saw her? No, LA saw it too and noted her sides were swollen and rigid. He had me bring her inside, not easy and she kept tangling- she was distracted, and a stethoscope told him we had a problem. High pitched noises? I dunno. He said we had to go to the vet -- NOW. We were planning to go grocery shopping, so we were ready to go, and it haunts me too that if we had left to shop the next few hours would have been even more of a nightmare. No, he said, NOW NOW NOW. 

A nightmare too, if I hadn't of had covid and been home.
If LA hadn't have been on his last week of school.

If would we would have left just minutes earlier. 

We went out the front door, LA hurrying me, yelling -- NOW -- I couldn't get past the denial that anything could be wrong. I put her in the back seat of the truck, LA is telling me that I need to call her in as a emergency. The vet is barely 3/4 mile away, my voice is shaking too much, by the time I'd finish the call we'd be in parking lot. I carry her inside, set her down. They recognized her, it seemed even as if her paperwork was still on the counter. There was an urgency, what did they recognize in this situation that cued them that something was wrong? I don't know what, only knew that in minutes she was in the back. I'd had to sign papers to select DNR or now. God, my hands are shaking, I can't think.

We barely sit in the waiting area before we're called quickly back to a room. I was saying -- she's fine, she just needs to pass some gas. Right? No. The vet's summary: her stomach had flipped over (?) or twisted and she needed open abdominal surgery, which included a long incision, removing the organ, fixing it if they can, stapling it to the abdominal wall to prevent this from happening again. Long recovery, possible vascular damage, possible necrotic tissue. They weren't even sure the surgeons (at another hospital) would do it give her age and heart. The put in a trochater (?) to release gas, she was on pain meds, her pulse rate and blood pressure elevated. But she's OK for now. Just for now.  All this came out over time in the next hour, until around 3:15? I dunno. Time melted. Time crawled. Time disappeared. Time - both my friend and my enemy right now. 

The vet left the room, and I cried on LA shoulder. I cried tears of disbelief, of denial. The thoughts in my head clanged loudly but in such a mix that I couldn't sort them out. This can't be right, how are they sure? Could it just get better? How could I just give up on her and not give her a chance to survive? How could I put her through a surgery like this, when even holiday boarding and a dental procedure are being second-guessed due to her age. I'm crying. The vet returns, with an update on her condition and options from surgical consults. I need more time. More crying. This cycle repeats until the end.

Soon, around 3:20, they ask if we'd like to see her. YES!! If it won't distress her. Instead they think it will help us. No, help me. Back in a procedure room there's a white blanket on the floor and an oxygen mask. I've seen this before with Sugar -- in 2014 with her chest surgery. I sat on the floor knowing what to expect. Soon she came in slowly (was she carried or she walked? Don't remember. LA said they carried her) and I fell on her gently, sobbing, holding her to avoid touching her belly. She was out of it, drugged, she wasn't trying to move or get up. She stretched out her belly, and for the 1000th time I reminded her that if she keeps doing that, she'll just get longer but not taller. 

I petted her shoulders, ears, face, neck. I buried my face in her soft fur, thought of yesterday's bath, sobbed tears onto her. The vets would come in, ask questions, I couldn't think. I sang lines of her song as I could, sometimes out loud but more in my head. I couldn't sing. I couldn't think. "My Girl". 

LA sat in a chair nearby, taking some pictures. Believe it or not, these pictures are precious to me now. The minutes before her death. My crying on the floor. Her calm face, looking as if she knows what's to happen next. My panicked face, looking as if I will never accept what's to happen next. 

Lev signed the papers for handling her afterwards. Did I want cremated remains? No. 

Did I want a pawprint. No. Yes. No. I can't think. 

Around 4pm, based on the pictures and LA messaging my family, we'd decided - no, I admitted - that we can't do surgery. They took my credit card, gave it back. Sugar had at one point gotten up and turned around, she did move a little but for the most part she was under me as I huddled over her. My God, did she know? She walked over to LA's chair, and he petted her. Scratched her back, her "banjo" spot. She accepted this attention, and I realized she was saying goodbye to him. 

Vets come in, vets go out, at one point one of them stays. They prepare the catheter lines. They have the syringes. I'm lost in emotion. LA is, or was, crying. I'm aware of what's happening but sobbing and saying I can't do it. I hear Lev's voice, he gives the OK to proceed. If not for him, her suffering would have continued. They explain the procedure and I'm now hugging her closer than ever, holding her head. What's next beyond crying and sobbing? Is there even a word for it?  I can't do this. I can't lose her. I can't let her suffer.

She gets the propofol and LA gets a picture of her right around or before this moment. She looks so calm. God help me. She falls asleep, I'm holding her head. It's so heavy. She'd fallen asleep and was fully rested in my hands. I cry out "Lev, she's so heavy. Lev, she's not moving. Lev, I can't". 

In that moment, I knew I couldn't do it. I knew it was going to happen. I knew it had to happen. My crying, her heavy head, her lack of movement, it was overwhelming. "Lev, she's not moving, oh God Lev she's so heavy."

And the vet said she had passed. I'm still crying. I still can't. I stayed there with her. Her eyes had drooped shut, the beautiful brown puddles of love hidden. Her ears splayed out on the blanket. Her back feet also splayed out to the sides. She wasn't moving. I'm broken. I stayed another 10-15 minutes. Petting her. Hugging. Nuzzling. Crying. LA pulled me up, thankfully, as she was starting to feel cold. I arranged her ears. Covered her with the blanket. When they came to get her, I picked her up for the last time and handed her off to the caretaker. 

My thoughts continued to haunt me, and continue now days later. I still cry everyday, but now when I see her clowny face in a picture I can laugh. The blessings of this day outweigh the pains. What if I didn't have this week off? What if I didn't have the day off? What if Lev wasn't home to recognize her issue? What if we'd left only minutes earlier? What if it happened a day later, and she was kenneled while we were in Missouri? 

What if the meal I fed her that morning caused this? It wasn't a big scoop, but she ate it fast. Her diagnosis - GVD - can be caused by overfeeding or a fast eating. But no, this wasn't a meal that much different than any other. 

What if it didn't happen at all, and the last months of her life deteriorated further. She was already declining favorite foods, already walking once a day if that much, walking only a house or two away. She was facing the start of a bitter cold winter that burns her feet and shortens walks. She could have lost dignity by making messes in the house. Wouldn't have enjoyed visitors or travel. I was in the habit of carrying her up and down steps, or using the doors with only 2 steps to climb. LA had built her a mini-step for the kitchen steps and she needed it. 

I read up on GVD. It's immediately life-threatening and with her age and heart she had a minimal chance to survive and 100% recover. If I'd have opted for surgery, she'd currently be in pain, drugged, stitched, nursed, withering away, and wondering what was happening to her. 

Thank you for the time I had this week. Thank you for LA knowing and reacting as he did. Thank you for the vets that stabilized and comforted her. Thank you for the time in that procedure room. Thank you for not letting her suffer. 

Sugar - thank you for everything, and I'm so sorry this happened. And sorry for all the walks that I rushed, the walks that I hurried you along, the walks that we missed. The times I scolded you for something. The times I wasn't home. The times I was too busy. The times you couldn't travel with us. Thank you for being so loving so forgiving, and so loyal. You were there in my darkest hours and witnessed my fall from grace. No matter what, I still had you and your love. Thank you for not criticizing my bad choices. For not looking down on me for my bad choices. Thank you for showing me how I can be a better human, for modeling a way to forgiveness, acceptance, and patience. I promise I won't fall again. I promise I won't go back to those ways of hurting. 

I love you, my sweet girl. I will always love you.