May 31st 2006 8:29 pm
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This has been a fairly traumatic spring for Dad and me. Dad and my step mom came back from their Florida vacation this past March. Boy was I happy to see him. Dad was so glad to see Baron and me, too. While we were playing Dad said to me Holly you feel so bony and while looking into my eyes said to my step mom that I looked kind of "yellow".
The next day Dad took me to see Dr. Batts the veterinarian who took some blood from me. Ouch! Boy did that hurt. Soon after that Dad took me to a doggie hospital in Langhorne, Pennsylvania. I never saw so many sickly dogs in my life. During my visit there I had something called an "ultrasound" done. I heard the doctor tell my Dad that I had something called Chirrosis of the liver. It sure didn't sound good to me.
I stayed at the hospital overnight, with all these tubes and machines hooked up to me. That sure wasn't much fun. The next day Dad took me home.
I learned that I had lost about thirty-five pounds, which didn't surprise me since I had not been eating much dog food for quite a while. I figured a gal could never be too thin or rich. I soon found out that at least the former is not quite true. Dad started cooking me chicken and rice, which sure is preferable to the dry dog food I had been getting. I wasn't too thrilled with the pills that Dad kept shoving down my throat twice a day. He also was shooting this nasty stuff called Kay O Pec Tate, or something like that down my gullet.
After about two weeks of this, I started to feel pretty bad. One Thursday night I started walking in circles and Dad says I was staring off into space. He stayed up with me all night and was crying and telling me how much he loved me. He told me "Holly I'm afraid you might have to go to sleep". I know I was feeling really tired but wondered why he was so sad about me sleeping. I heard him talking to my step mom and telling her he had to take me to see Dr. Batts. and that he thought that I would not be coming home.
Later that morning Mom and Dad took me for a ride in her truck to Dr. Batt's office. When I got there I started to feel a little better and started climbing onto Dad's lap. I wanted to get out of there, fast. I didn't think being there was such a good idea.
We went into Dr. Batts examining room and I heard Dad say he thought that he was going to have to have me get a needle, but that he wasn't so sure, now. He explained to the doc how badly I had felt the night before and the really big accident I had in the house. The doctor told Dad that he didn't think it was my time yet and that we shoud try something called "steroids".
The good doctor did give me a needle and gave my Dad a green bottle filled with some pills. He told Dad to give me four pills a day for three days and then two a day thereafter. When we got home Dad gave me the pills and some chicken and rice.
After a day or two I started feeling a lot better and my appetite returned. I now want to eat everything in sight. I'm back to chasing birds and squirrels and Dad even yells at me sometimes, but not like he used to before I got sick. He even tried to get me to eat the yucky dry dog food, which I did for a day or two, but I found that if I pass it up he'll cook me chicken and rice which I much prefer. For now things are looking pretty good, although the steriods, "Oh boy, sometimes they make me a little nuts". But all in all, life ain't bad consideringt that I almost took that journey to the other side. I gues good ol' Doc Batts is right, "Its, just not my time. Yet!"
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