What's Worse Than a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day? This.

*****Okay, this is what I like to call a "speed bump entry" - I can't ever get myself to really finish it but I don't write anything else because I'm convinced I'll finish the post soon and don't want to post things out of order. :-/ I really should know Future Lauren better than that by now. So, the first 2 paragraphs are back from 11/9/14 and then I'm just going to jump into a quicker synopsis. When you see what the post is about, you'll understand why it's taken so long.*****

Remember back when I was a young'un and I thought this was the definition of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad experience? Ha! Memories. They make me laugh. Let's fast forward from that past about 4 years but rewind this week about 5 days to arrive at a TRULY terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Days. Oh, the hell with it - week.

Tuesday started normally enough: Robert and I went to an OB appointment and had the second part of my fetal echocardiogram. (The first part showed everything to be on the up-and-up but the doctor only got about 80% of the views he wanted - because Ms. Baby was being uncooperative - and he wanted to make sure he saw everything.) I'd been having some mild cramping and even though that's not necessarily a worrisome thing, I asked the doctor while at the ultrasound and she confirmed that without other symptoms, it was normal. So, I went about my day and not much of note happened. Jenna hadn't been feeling herself the previous few days - she was lethargic and had very little appetite and just seemed to be "off." I'd taken her in to the clinic last week to check it out and Dr. K thought Jenna had bronchitis so

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And that's as far as I got, folks. Dr. K prescribed Jenna a bronchodilator and Jenna was only on it a few days when things started going downhill. By the time we finished dinner on Tuesday night, it was clear that Jenna's breathing was just too labored and I was concerned. So, Robert and I drove her to Ohlone Emergency and had her looked at. They put her on oxygen because her level was low but otherwise they found nothing urgently wrong. Jenna didn't have aspiration pneumonia and the doctor had given her an injectable form of the bronchodilator she was already on so once Jenna's O2 level was up to 92, the doctor said she felt comfortable letting us take Jenna home (because I'm a tech and would know what to watch for). The doctor did recommend a humidifier and some coupage treatment overnight so, since we don't have a humidifier, we had Jenna hang out in the bathroom with the shower running for a while and then I did the coupage (basically, you just use cupped hands and firm pats on the chest to help dislodge any mucus).

I'm not sure at this point what time Robert and I finally went to bed or even when I woke up but at some point in the early morning hours, I woke up with excruciating pain on my left side. I was instantly nauseated and couldn't sit or lie comfortably at all. I was reluctant to go to the ER but once I started spotting, I had no choice so off to Washington Hospital we went. This part I can definitely truncate: I was admitted to Labor and Delivery right away and it was decided that I was suffering from kidney stones. I had ultrasounds performed on both the baby and my kidneys, all of which looked good, and was given a little over 1500mL of fluids while I was there (about 8 hours or so). At an acceptable hour later in the morning (somewhere between maybe 8 and 10, I think), Robert texted my dad to have him run over to our place and check on the fur kids. After a bit my dad texted back, essentially saying that Garfunkel hadn't ruptured himself and something about not moving Jenna but we figured that just meant she wasn't feeling well and up to moving around much so he'd just left her to hang out. As it turned out, we did not get my dad's entire message and that turned out to be a weirdly fortuitous thing.

It's appropriate to inform people of your hospital stay via Instagram, right?

When I was finally discharged from the hospital (around 12 or 1ish), Robert and I headed straight home to check on the babies. I walked into the door first and immediately looked for Jenna. I saw her lying on the carpet just inside our bedroom and I knew instantly that she had died overnight. I dropped all that I was holding and crumpled on the floor next to her, sobbing "she's dead!" hysterically until Robert rushed over and squeezed me. This is where the weirdly fortuitous incomplete text comes in; turns out, when my dad stopped by to check on the animals, Jenna was already dead. (I feel just terrible that I wound up making the man find a dead dog. Ugh.) He'd included this bit of information in his text to us (hence the mention of not moving her) but we didn't get that part and I'm so, so glad. As absolutely heartbreaking as it was to come home and find her, it would've been excruciating to know she was dead and then have to hang out at the hospital for who knows how long. I had already let my clinic know I was going to be bringing Jenna in for an exam so I had to call and give them the news. Everyone just loved Jenna and was very sorry, of course. I also told them about my unexpected trip to the ER for myself and that, therefore, Robert would be bringing Jenna's body in later that day.

Robert wound up bringing Linguini in, as well, because in and around my sobbing, he noticed that there were a couple of piles of bloody vomit in the house, as well as the remnants of a chewed ribbon. So off my three men went while I sat at home, continuing to cry, and waited to hear if Linguini was going to need surgery. I don't think I gave my coworkers the heads-up that Gweenz was on his way in and that was unkind. I talk about how horrible he is all the time but I still should've prepared them! And told them they could do whatever they needed to in order to restrain his furry little butt. As it turned out, one of the girls I work with is a crazy cat whisperer and they were able to get x-rays on Linguini without even sedation! He did pee all over them, of course, but all in all that was a successful visit for Shitty Kitty. And he hadn't ingested any of the ribbon after all so he got to come home. Thank goodness.

I had never lost a dog before - Ziggy was living with my sister's dad when he died and while I was sad when I heard the news, I hadn't been with him for several years and I was happy he died living in a place where he was very happy. So Jenna's passing just knocked me down and continues to do so here and there when I see her ashes or have to write a blog post about her leaving us. Even though I knew she wasn't doing well at all - she'd had some bloodwork done just prior to her bronchitis diagnosis and her values were terrible - I just kept thinking we could squeak out a little more time. Up until the day before she died, she still loved walks and car rides and definitely loves. She just seemed to go downhill so fast; Dr. K suspects that, in the end, she had a stroke or heart attack and went quickly. Still, it breaks my heart and I feel guilty that she was home alone when she died. The logical part of my brain understands that she would've died whether or not she'd stayed at the hospital and so her being at home, a place she knew and where she was happy, was a good thing. But the emotional part of my brain just can't get over the fact that she was alone for hours before she died, when she was still alone.

Robert is very understanding of my residual mini-breakdowns here and there, (no doubt exacerbated by pregnancy hormones). He just loved Jenna to bits, too, and was deeply affected and saddened by her passing; even my coworkers said he just looked terribly heartbroken when he brought her body in. Jenna touched everyone she met, pretty much - the entire hospital staff, my parents, my aunt, even one complex 'regular' who saw Jenna and Funk on walks. I'm sure it seems silly to some people that we became so attached in just 3 months but we absolutely did. We were already so accustomed to the sound of her pattering around the house, her snoring, and her happy dance when she was really excited for food that the first couple of weeks after her passing were really tough. Still, I would foster her again in a heartbeat, no question. She was my best baby girl.

Last photo of the entire family (October).

Begging for chicken!

The very last photo of my baby girl. I was eating lunch at work and she was begging for peanut butter sandwich crusts.

I went kinda goon after she died and took photos of everything she had left behind...

including the spot where she went to the bathroom right at the bottom of our stairs.

 

Maria and Josh sent us the sweetest condolence bouquet.

Even though she was only with us a short while, Jenna was a member of the family and so has a spot in our ornament family timeline.

One of my Christmas gifts - Robert had a painting made of Jenna's final photo.

The likeness is wonderful! I love it. :-)

Foster Failure

Though I will say right off the bat that I never really expected to be a success in this particular case. :-)

This is Jenna. Jenna has been a patient at the clinic for roughly the same amount of time as I've worked there. She's an 8 1/2-year-old King Charles Cavalier with a grade 3 heart murmur who is currently in stage 3 kidney failure. Her previous owner, Voldemort (as in She Who Shall Not Be Named because she's a terrible person!), had a trade services agreement with the clinic, meaning that we gave her free vet care and she gave us free advertising in the magazine for which she worked. That agreement was made, of course, prior to Jenna's deterioration of health so, in the end, Voldemort ended up with a pretty sweet deal. In the last month of her contract, Voldemort had to bring Jenna in every other day to receive subcutaneous fluids; she had to pay for the fluids but not the actual tech time, which saved Voldy about $25 per visit. Voldemort's contract with the clinic expired in mid-August and the clinic manager chose not to renew it. Literally three days after Voldemort was informed of this, she decided Jenna was on death's doorstep and needed to be euthanized. 

Unfortunately for Voldy and fortunately for Jenna, the latter had been coming in to the clinic so frequently that all of us knew she wasn't ready to go. Jenna made a point of visiting the reception staff each time she came in for her visit, and then she'd head to the back without any prompting. When we'd let her in the treatment area, she'd trot around and say hi to all the techs and then head toward the table where she received her fluids. Jenna LOVES people but she was my girlfriend and everyone knew it; anytime Jenna came for fluids, everyone knew I'd do it because Jenna was a favorite of mine. She'd give me kisses after her treatments and I'd give her liver treats. We had a relationship. :-) So when the staff heard Voldemort planned to put Jenna down, we were all up in arms. We talked to the doctor about Jenna and he agreed to talk to Voldemort about surrendering Jenna to the hospital. Turned out Voldy wasn't interested in surrendering Jenna, she absolutely wanted her put to sleep. We all talked about this attitude in the back and came to the conclusion that, as an owner, if a doctor agrees to put your animal down, your belief in her poor health is validated and you, therefore, are not a bad person. If, on the other hand, the doctor wants you to give your pet to someone else, that means your animal isn't beyond saving and you are giving up on her. It really took a lot of persuading but the doctor finally convinced Voldemort to let Jenna go and she officially became the hospital dog. 

I think the doctor and the manager (his wife) were so easily persuaded to save Jenna because they believed I was going to adopt Jenna. And, believe me, I really wanted to! And I talked to Robert about it at length. Unfortunately, Jenna's care is quite costly and with the baby coming and the adoption in the queue, caring for a special needs dog wasn't the best idea. So the hospital was stuck with Jenna. There were several inquiries from clients interested in her but once they learned of her special needs, each one declined. Understandable, of course, because so did I but it was still sad. Jenna is an AWESOME dog - she loves people, car rides, and walks and is not fazed by loud noises, cats, dogs, children, or anything else. Aside from her medical needs, Jenna is the most low-maintenance dog you'll ever meet. But since no one was rushing to adopt her, Jenna had nowhere to go. Which, of course, meant I took her home the first night. 

Another tech took Jenna home several times in the beginning but she has two small children and a very active lifestyle and it was tougher for her to keep Jenna. Robert and I, as you know, are not social butterflies so slowly I became the Foster Lady and I was tickled pink. Robert fell for Jenna soon after meeting her, as I knew he would; it wasn't long at all before he decided she needed a new bed, new bowls, and a new collar. It's been 8 weeks now and Jenna is definitely a McCauley! It's actually a pretty sweet deal - I get to keep her but since I haven't officially adopted her, the clinic pays for her prescription food, three different medications, and her fluids/dripsets/needles. The manager has OK'd this arrangement for as long as I work there so I couldn't be happier!! I honestly don't know if that will change when I'm on maternity leave but I'm really hoping not.

We took Jenna to the dog park but she mostly just wanted to hang with people.

Linguini was VERY unhappy with Jenna's presence when she first arrived but he's slowly gotten used to her, in part because he's figured out she doesn't move much so she's not going to come at him. He no longer hisses at her and they can both be in the same room together. Funk was a little jealous at first but it wasn't as bad as I was expecting and now he's completely indifferent to her. Except when Robert or I get home from work - Funk definitely wants to be the first to say hello and is a little dramatic when Jenna trots up to say hi, too. I, of course, have to give Jenna all of her treatments and I will admit it's not super fun. She won't eat pill pockets so I literally have to shove the pills down her throat and syringe-feed her some water to make her swallow. And this happens twice a day. Jenna has also decided she's tired of being poked every other day and so doesn't take her fluids as uncomplainingly as she used to. But she's just a doll and I love her to bits. My parents like her, too, (a lot!) and have been super awesome about letting Jenna hang at their house when Funk does. Things have been going as well as could be expected and I'm just so happy about that.

She did pretty much immediately decide Funk's bed was her new bed and Funk is too much a gentleman to kick her out.

Jenna's health is the elephant in the room, though, and it's already decreased some in just the short amount of time she's been with us. Her kidney failure is a little tougher to manage given her heart issues so she gets bloodwork done every so often to check-up on things. (Another expense I'm extremely grateful the clinic covers.) The doctors estimate she has less than 12 months to be with us and while that does make me terribly sad to think about, I'm just so happy she's getting to experience love and cuddles and fun that fostering her is absolutely worth the upcoming heartache. And, best of all, when it is her time to go, I'll know with all my heart that everything was done for her and she wasn't just discarded as an inconvenience.

Jenna in her old bed and with all her hair.

Jenna in her NEW bed with her sassy new 'do.

Voldemort didn't keep up with Jenna's grooming so she was covered in mats. We shaved her down at work and then Robert and I took her to PetSmart to smooth out the cut and bathe her. She kinda looks like a beagle but you can tell she loves having less hair!

Of course, she wasn't thrilled with it right away... It took a little getting used to.

This is Jenna in the new bed we bought for Funk to replace the bed Jenna overtook. He sleeps on the couch.

Jenna is a born beggar and therefore fits in seamlessly with the boys.

The other tech that watched Jenna bought her a fabulous Halloween ensemble! Unfortunately, J is just a little too plump for a perfect fit so it had to be returned. I don't think she misses it.