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Gavin’s blood work…
It’s great to say that most of his blood work came back with cheers of excellent from his vet. However, there were a couple of values in his liver numbers that she did not cheer about. “We’ll keep an eye on those,” she said.
For Gavin’s age, fourteen years old, he is in great shape. We’ve never had one of our bully loves make it to this age.
I’m sure he’s not going to want to get in the car next week when we have to go back to his vet’s office. Even less so when he has to go a third time. He’s never liked to go there, he’s gone to the same office since he was a little guy.
At the vet’s…
Yeah, an hour later, $650.00 lighter, and the old dog was acting like nothing happened. Guess who was chasing three tennis balls all over the living room?
Like he didn’t throw up twice the day before…which he NEVER does.
At least now he’s having his ears treated and we’ll go back next week to spend another small fortune on them. His vet is aware of how lousy his teeth look, how weird his nails grow, and that he HATES being there.
He’s had a nail trim done by two people and it took three people to clean his ears. Is it any wonder why I couldn’t keep at them with my left hand dead and The Curmudgeon out of commission?
I do love my vets and their staff, never any recriminations when we let things get a bit ahead of us.
Insane schedule?
I think we’re going into the dry erase monthly calendar mode here.
Nurses coming two or three times a week, same with PT guy, add to that doctor appointments for both of us, and vet appointments for two dogs.
I cannot keep things straight. He almost missed a doctor’s appointment yesterday.
The Med Center talking pill alarm seems to be working well. We can only hope the dry erase calendar will do as well.
PT goals
The PT guy asked me what my goals are for The Curmudgeon with his PT sessions.
My goals for him, are to get him where he can do some simple things around here once again, like taking the dogs out on occasion without making it a huge production.
Walking to the car and back without needing the transfer chair part of his rollator.
Walking up and down stairs and back and forth to the bathroom safely a couple of times a day.
Little things for most people. Huge things for us.
I haven’t slept a good solid eight hours since October when he went into the hospital the first time. Why? Because he used to take care of the dogs in the mornings so I could sleep.
I want to see him have to use this less.
The nursing and PT schedule for this week is already crazy
Here’s the thing, The Curmudgeon needs his health monitored for a while after five hospital stays in four months.
He also needs physical therapy, and if they can do it at home, all the better.
The problem is, the nurses feel like invaders in my home. I haven’t met the PT guy yet, that comes later today.
The nurses call the day before, or sometimes on the day of, to let us know when they will arrive–that’s quickly changed since I raised hell about the idea of them deciding when it was convenient for them to arrive. Screw that, they will arrive when it is convenient for us. We aren’t paid to be here for them, they are paid to be here for us.
They all remind me of my ‘entitled’ and estranged sister who is also a nurse. Is the art of being a complete asshole part of the curriculum in nurses training? Or are we just lucky?
I got sucked in
My mind has been so screwed up lately that I have become a prime target for the games they throw at you on the computer.
I’ve developed a need for mindless entertainment so I can keep a toe hold on my sanity.
I am ashamed to say I now have an Age of Empires addiction. I may need an intervention.
Don’t forget next week is Westminster!
Looking forward to watching the Westminster Dog Show. I’ve watched the show every year since they began to televise it.
The Curmudgeon and I compete on picking the winners.
I usually beat him.
Don’t call before noon.
What is so difficult to understand about that sentence?
We tell everyone the same thing. Very few people take it to heart or understand that we really do mean it.
With as busy as the dogs and The Curmudgeon keep me jumping all day, I barely get enough rest until long after they all settle down for the night.
I seldom fall asleep before four a.m.
Therefore, it is no wonder I am cranky, bitchy, and mean as hell when the phone rings before I’ve had a decent number of hours sleep and coffee by the gallon.
Two nurses in two day is too many
What we thought was a visiting physical therapist turned out to be another visiting nurse. We had one here just the day before. WTF?
Really? Two days in a row? You’d think they spread it out a bit more. My gawd I haven’t caught my breath from his hospital stay yet and they all come piling in the door giving me more work to do.
It’s all well and good if they actually did something to help, but they just sit there acting all superior (looking and sounding way to much like my estranged sister) and making him feel like a fool.
It’s not his fault he got C-Diff it is the damned hospital’s fault.
A calm day is nice
There’s nothing quite like a day without crisis, no drama, no dealing with idiots.
Oh wait, I lie. We did have a little drama. Lucy doesn’t like rain, we had rain all day. Lucy played drama queen every time she had to go outside to pee. Poor little special pup thinks she’s going to melt or something.
Gavin doesn’t care about rain, snow, sun, whatever. If he has to go out he has to go out. No drama.
The other drama was the fog. Wonderful, gorgeous fog. Yes, I love fog.
You all have a good one.
Visiting nurse visit
Work progresses on the porch to the point of done but he wants to do finishing touches.
Meanwhile a visiting nurse calls and wants us to let her come in no less than two hours from the call. Idiot man said yes.
Our food delivery got screwed up and while I spoke to our salesman on the phone, the nurse began to bug me about seeing all The Curmudgeon’s medications. I opened a cupboard door and pointed to them. Still on the phone with the salesman.
Not good enough, she couldn’t possibly get them down herself I had to climb the stepladder and haul down every fucking bottle for her to check.
That screwed up my ‘filing system’ and it took me an hour to set up his pills for the next week and put them back in the cupboard in some order.
While she went through each bottle comparing them to her “list” from the hospital. I found several gross errors on their part where they double listed several medications. She didn’t appreciate it when I pointed out the errors. Tough shit, you invaded my home without making a proper appointment with us. A couple of hours in advance? Nope not going to find me being a pleasant person.
He’s home, can I run away now?
His release from the hospital added three new medications to his already long list of nineteen medications he takes each day, some of which, he takes twice a day. Two of the new ones he is to take four times a day and the third one he is to take three times a day.
Pray tell how the heck am I supposed to keep track of all his medications AND all of mine?
Running away sounds quite appealing
Doggonedmysteries 