A Different Patient

Being the excellent nurse that I am....ahem, I often get frustrated with my patients. I get after Mark once in awhile for not being a better patient. He has been better recently, very low maintenance. He still isn't very good about telling me what he wants or needs until desperation sets in. His biggest complaint is getting hungry. If it is not satisfied immediately, Mark gets sick and irritable. It appears to be a manageable problem, except that he can never decide what he wants to eat or what he wants me to make. I feel we have a daily dinner argument that usually results in him cooking a hot dog on the bbq. I think we are grateful for warmer weather that allows for grilling.

Mark received his 6th cycle of chemotherapy today. Two more to go. It is crazy to think how close we are to being done. He was not very excited about going today. The first words he uttered, "I don't want to go today." That is the kind of communication that I am looking for! Knowing today could have been the last had it not been in his bone marrow was a little frustrating for him. I know that I am not the one enduring treatment, but I am grateful he has two more. Lets take it all down at once. I am fearful of the future a little bit. I have nightmares of resurgence. I am pretty good now at dealing with the present. Overall, today went well. I, however, missed most of it. As one patient gets better, another, more difficult one has emerged.

I am nervous about sharing this next story for two reasons. The first, having the rest of you laugh at me because, yes my dog at the moment is my child. For those of you with actual children, or who do not love animals with the same zeal, I will probably look pretty silly. The second has to do with the good people on the other side of this unfortunate incident. They have been really great and I don't want to paint them as villains. They have been wonderfully concerned and helpful, accepting responsibility. There are no winners that's for sure.

My sweet golden retriever and I were on a walk Tuesday night, and got attacked by a pretty big dog. It was pretty terrifying, and I handled with the greatest of hysterics. I am realizing that I am not great at emergencies--really glad I didn't choose to be an ambulance person or something of that nature. I had Roxy leashed and we were walking home when this angry dog comes flying from the backyard of a house across the street. I knew he was more interested in Roxy than me. She is the most timid, loving dog out there and I knew she was in trouble. I stuck her behind me to shield her and yell at the other dog. It didn't phase him at all. He went through me, and immediately took Roxy down. I felt sheer panic as I tried everything to get that dog off mine. Roxy screamed, the other dog shook. I was feeling pretty helpless at the moment and was sure my dog was going to die as I stood and watched. Fortunately, the owner was in his yard and got to us pretty quickly to restrain his dog. Roxy was hurt, I was emotional, and we headed home. To top it all off, I was already late picking up Mark from the airport. He had been in Dallas on business (yes, he is feeling that well!). I didn't have time to inspect her or gather my senses before I rushed down to get Mark.

When we got home, we found a mess. The wounds were deep and she was very sore, unwilling to walk. I cleaned her up and sat with her until morning. Roxy spent most of Wednesday at the vet getting stitched up from the inside out. I am happy to report that she is doing well. I am still not totally at peace despite the fact she has done very well today, even walking. She is at a high risk for infection and currently has a drain in place. She has to be watched constantly to make sure she isn't pulling it out, licking it, and not being too active. So, now I am playing nurse to a dog. Like Mark, she doesn't communicate all that well, but she is pretty sure she wants to eat dog food for breakfast and dinner. She can't read her instruction sheet or take her medications on her own, but Mark isn't very good at that either. I have to read the bottles to him too. When unsupervised, Roxy gets to wear this:

I thought these only existed in movies. She isn't to fond of "the cone of shame" and I can't say that I blame her. I have had a few laughs at her expense, she doesn't seem to understand the radius of the cone. She constantly scares herself by running into the walls or doors. I felt pretty bad for her when I saw her trying to drink with it on; the cone hit the floor and her mouth was a good few inches from the bowl. I have kept a close eye on her to minimize cone use, I feel like she has suffered enough. This picture doesn't give it justice, but does give you a sense of why she acts a little sore:

This picture refuses to center--sorry. Anyway, the drain you can see is just above her elbow. She has a few puncture wounds underneath the armpit. Around the drain is still open wound, we hope that can be closed Monday. Like I said, the picture doesn't give it justice. She definitely took one for the team. It is pretty cliche, but Roxy is my best friend and a loyal companion. The night of Mark's diagnosis, Roxy knew something was wrong and wouldn't leave my side. She was there when I just needed a good cry and some comfort. I hate to see my friends hurt.

Sorry for those of you wanting to see pictures of Mark. He was by far the boring patient this week. He is feeling great, even decided to get some dirt moved out in the garden tonight. I tried to convince him that it had rained all day and the dirt was mud, but he wants it all ready for planting. I wonder who he thinks will eat all those vegetables. Roxy and I are pretty much anti-vegetable. My dad suggested putting the cone on Mark to see if it would slow him down--not a bad idea.

In closing, hopefully this post is long and exciting enough to make up for the fact I forgot to blog for two weeks. I didn't notice it had been that long until I got on to post this one. I will try to conjure up more excitement and write more frequently. I hope it is good excitement. This sick and afflicted stuff is getting old. Now that our part of the adoption process is officially over, I hope the next news we hear in that regard is much happier than what we have been dealing with. We continue to appreciate the love and support, the kind words, and comments.