Join Associated Content

Friday, February 19, 2010



When you’re a parent you worry. I may be wrong-but I’ve never met anyone (at least one who hasn’t just given birth, but really a parent) who doesn’t worry about their little ones.

Big, small, young, old, furry-when they are sick or hurt, we worry.

This week is a testament to parents.

Our daughter now lives in an area that doesn’t have the HMO that her kids belong to. The little guys have both had bad coughs. Little Aidan wound up needing to see a doctor. That happens with 2 year olds. He wasn’t just having the usual snotty, running (and therefore uncomfortable) nose-nope, started running a fever and Sarah could see he had an earache. Now the HMO will cover any urgent care, so the trouble was NOT the HMO, it was the 3 urgent cares that refused to see Aidan because they didn’t want to go through the billing.

Obviously, taking him to 4 facilities added to the “mom” worry. Daddy stayed home with Dylan and worried by proxy.

At 4 a.m. Tuesday morning our 14 year old lab mix Sunshine woke us up with gagging and coughing. Since I don’t move for about an hour upon waking up-Steve went down to see what was wrong. Figuring she has kissed Pepper (our tabby and her “baby”) to the point of forming a hairball, he coaxed her to drink some water.

Didn’t work. He wound up giving her just enough food to get her to take a few laps. That only worked slightly. I spent the rest of the day watching her and knowing a trip to the vet was in our immediate future. By nightfall, she was still happy as the proverbial lark-eating, drinking, pestering us for her nightly biscuit, but still gagging and hacking away.
Wednesday morning, 7 a.m. sharp I was on the phone making an appointment. The vet could see her at 11:30. Worked out well as I had a breakfast date with a friend, who was also a worried parent to a furry little girl.

She told me that she had begun making her pup’s food because of allergies and how none of the brands she had tried helped.

I could commiserate-when I was a teenager until the day my beloved terrier mix left this earth when I was in my 20’s, I too made her meals.

“Tippy toes” was my baby and I would have stood on my head if it meant giving her a better quality of life.

A parent is a parent.

After our bagels and coffee, I gathered up my hacking pup, went to the vet’s and was put into the “isolation” booth-seems just by the vet hearing her, she was sure (despite up-to-date boosters to the contrary) that she had the dreaded and contagious bordetella!

Our vet came in and took the vitals and the rest of the story-she had taken up eating Kleenexes, been limping more than usual and had been uncharacteristically cranky with Pepper.

Since I only have one working arm, the vet brought in the troops to get a blood sample and give her a thorough physical.

The outcome was probably bordetella (“it happens when you board them Carine, even with the booster), severe broncytis and the crankiness was due to her arthritis getting worse.

Oh my poor baby!

Good news? Yes, I had some! Seems the diet we had her on had worked quite well-she BETTER not lose another pound. Sunshine gets to have a little more food.

So what did they do to help my furry love bug? Besides the blood panel, the physical and all the rest? Let’s see, I have to watch her closely for the next week. She has to take 2 horse-sized antibiotics twice a day, 2-3 codeine pills (to deaden the cough and help the rib pain) for at least a week and then as needed the second week. She’s now on Rimadyl (1-1/4 pills the size of a Buick) once a day for a month and then we can cut back and watch the reaction.

Now if she starts to vomit or stop eating or get to lethargic, I’m to call immediately for further instructions.

Luckily I’m more worried about how she’ll do than to realize that this just broke our “fun” budget for the next few months-$339.88.

But again, as a mom-I find that to be a bargain if it helps her to feel better. In the meantime, I’m thinking it might be good if I get a new baby monitor and keep it up here in my office and by my bed and wherever else I might need to be when she’s out of full view.

No wonder parents get gray-we can’t afford the hair dye once we take the title on.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?