Just Call This The Overly-Dramatic-Blog

"She's playing us like a fiddle."

That's what Ken said, after I brought Maggie home from the ultrasound, cooked up some chicken breast (recommended by the vet to encourage her to eat), and we watched her gobble it up.

Big fat booger.

Welp, one set of X-Rays, one ultrasound, and about $800 later, here is what we know: Maggie is healthy as a horse. The ultrasound found nothing. The X-Rays found nothing. No mass in the ultrasound. All her organs look great. The only place they couldn't ultrasound was the neck area. This is a concern as her symptoms of not eating and gulping may be a result of a tumor pressing in on her neck. So guess what...we'd need to do a CT Scan for that. HUH???

I want to scream and leap for joy. I have a healthy dog who has decided not to eat. She's boycotting something. But today I discover she's apparently not boycotting fresh cooked chicken.

FIDDLE PLAYER!!!!

Don't get me wrong. She's still acting miserable. I'm sure the hot spot has a lot to do with that. And the pills might have been annoying her stomach. And I suppose, to be fair, there is the remote possibility that a tumor might be burrowing against her esophagus. But she's eating delicious savory chicken bits.

Ken says she'll never eat real dog food again.

Those eyes can make it look like the world is going to end tomorrow. Apparently overly dramatic tendencies run in the family. That beach trip is sounding much better.

Dog Gone Grief.

I hate this.

I've cried puddles nose to nose with my hurting dog for the last week as I have watched Maggie continue to slip down a slippery slope of one ailment after another. We're into our third week and things just keep getting worse. We went from ear infection, to the shakes, to not eating, to upset stomach, to labored breathing, to a nasty hot spot, to vomiting up water. She's eaten so very little in days. She won't take pills. She won't even take them if they are pulverized in a PBJ. She won't eat ice cream. She hasn't eaten even a whole can of dog food in what is probably almost a week. An eighth of a can maybe in a day.

Yesterday, I had an X-Ray done sure her lungs or some other organ would be riddled with cancer. To my relief, everything was clear, but the vet was concerned with her heart looking elevated. Her thoughts were perhaps a mass was lifting it. She noticed signs of pain in her spine. We scheduled an ultrasound to investigate the heart issue, and she sent me home with more "palatable" food she was sure Maggie would take to. No luck. Then last night I found a nasty huge hot spot on her tail (the only area not shaved) and rump. How could the vet miss that??? How did I miss that? It must have developed so quickly. Puss and everything. She was in so much pain when I tried to mend it.

After a 3:00am feeding with Faith, I heard Maggie gulping; trying to keep herself from puking. She was trembling (shivering?). All I could do was stroke her body, lay my robe over her, and try to get her to drink a little. She did. We just sat there. Together. Her cold nose in my lap. Trembling in the dark.

Today, I took her into her ultrasound. After just being at the vet yesterday, she did not want to come out of the car. I hugged her in the back seat and we had a long conversation. She with her eyes and her trembling, "Mommy, I don't want to go in again." And me trying to coax her that it was ok. I told her I would stay with her. But I was wrong. I had to drop her off. All I could do was walk her back, and feel like a traitor as I watched her get in a cage and look back at me.

Stupid grief.

Here's the worst: We're supposed to go on a very much needed two week vacation starting on Saturday. It has been planned for months. Maggie can't come. No dogs allowed. If it was just us, we'd cancel. But it is with both sides of the family. How can I leave her like this? How can I leave this on my sister-in-law's shoulders? There are so many levels of unfairness in this, I don't know where to start.

I have to keep my anger in check. I don't want to be the martyr. But I feel alone in my grief and helplessness. The children are clueless (thankfully). The baby doesn't stop her needs. And Ken has his stuff as we try to prepare to leave for a vacation I no longer want to take.

What's Cool About Turning 4 Months?

What's Cool:
Everytime I smile, the entire world comes 2 feet closer.
What's Not Cool:
No matter how much I smile, the world is never close enough.

What's Cool:
Mom keeps giving me this neat new bottle with white stuff in it.
What's Not Cool:
She actually expects me to try drinking it every once and awhile so her and the big scruffy guy can go on a much needed date or something. None of that ma'am. I'm happy to amuse you with bottle playing, but I'm not going to actually drink that stuff. Just stick to that giant flesh ball thingy. That's much more fun to knead milk out of.

What's Cool:
I'm getting so, so, so much attention. This thing I've discovered called whining is really working for me.
What's Not Cool:
My parents are starting to call me not so endearing names. Things like, "Code Name: Squawker", "High Maintenance", and "Take-Her".


What's Cool:
This thing they call a "binky" is neat. It's working for me all of sudden.
What's Not Cool:
That boy. The crazy one who looks like he's ready to poke my eye out at any second, keeps shoving it in and out of my mouth like I'm a human slot machine. He scares me.

What's Cool:
Everybody wants to pick me up, and hold me.
What's Not Cool:
They pick me up and hold me. I can't help it..I start to act very uncool, and my bottom lip starts to do this quiver thing. It is very embarassing. Mom keeps calling it "stranger anxiety", whatever that is.


What's Cool:
I sleep from 7:30pm to 8:30am.
What's Not Cool:
I don't sleep during the day much. Why should I though? Nobody else takes naps in this house (except that cool fat face wash dog). Why do I have to? I'm four months old now. I don't need naps anymore Mom. Naps are for babies.

Three Band-Aids Later...

Well, I went to the dermatologist yesterday. It was a great relief to see that the office was well put together and "with it" technologically. The doctor was sweet, but brief. She took one quick look and said, "That's a cyst, and you can have it removed if you wish." And in her next sentence she said, "But that needs to come off dear", pointing to a group of two overlapping moles lower on my spine. After a full torso check she had located two other suspicious moles (a very dark flat one on my arm, and the same for my right shoulder). Next thing I knew, I was signing a consent form, and laying on my belly for a shave removal. They'll be tested, and results should be back to me in a week.

After all my belly aching over the giant cyst, it gets two seconds of attention, and instead, I'm walking out with a cyst still in place and three bandaids, covering locations where I should have been more concerned. I was in a daze driving home, trying to put it all together, think straight, and formulate a wise plan of action. I'm very grateful. A cyst is wonderful news to my ears. Of course the other three spots are not. This is where I see God's sense of humor play out. And his Fatherly love. He knows me so well. He knows I wasn't going to go anywhere near a dermatologist with those other spots that have been on my body for as long as I can remember. But start a giant harmless growth on her back...and that'll get her attention!

A good scare was good for me, minus the Pepto popping. Of course it isn't quite over until those results come in. I think it is time to start incorporating that yearly trip to a good standing dermatologist for both of us. My husband is very fair and has some spots that need to get checked out as well. I'll still get that second opinion, and get Ken in for an appointment too. That'll get us set to start and then I'll set up that next available appointment with the doctor everybody in our entire county seems to be seeing. A whole year out.

Get yourselves checked!!!!