no news is good news

I am still not in a very stable emotional place right now.  I cried myself to sleep.  I then lay awake thinking of how each sunday I wake up to the little click, click of bowser trotting behind his daddy, following him from room to room as he makes his morning rounds: email, newspaper, sportscenter, sometimes a little coffee.  but this sunday it wasn't like that.  it was quiet.  it was sad.

the vet called at 6:30am.  bowser is stable, though not really showing improvement.  he did not need the transfusion yet.  of course, getting a call at 6:30am does not fill you with warm fuzzies.  when I heard that call and looked at the clock, my heart sank, immediately fearing the worst.  but I guess, our news was better than the alternative.

ultimately, what brought us to this point, was throughout the day yesterday, bowser had been getting, well, gradually worse. no matter how much glucose I gave him, it never really did much to improve his personality, his movements, his desire for food and water, his ability to even stand up unassisted.  I just ended up with sick, tired, frustrated, sticky dog. and a worried, tired, frustrated, sticky mom. at one point during the evening, I sent das a text message while he was at his golf tournament.

"I think bowser needs further medical attention. I hate to ruin your evening, but could you come home sooner rather than later?"

knowing das's opinions on emergency vets and their exorbitant fees, I clearly meant business when requesting we visit one at 9pm on a saturday evening. there are two within a close distance, and after a little research, I opted for one that had "better reviews", if you will. there was more information available on the ER practice itself, and the vet backgrounds were extensive enough to make me (us) feel better about taking him there.

we went right down, bowser laying in das's lap while I drove.  once we got there, we were seen pretty quickly; there weren't any other waiting patients.  the vet got a little history since all we were going on at that point was "low sugar levels".  she then did a quick physical exam and proceeded to ask us questions about any lead in the yard, and said she was going to take him out back for a quick blood test.

she came back with bowser, and very patiently and honestly, informed us that bowser's red blood cell count was "life-threatening low".  she then proceeded to say that if we brought him home and did not admit him to the hospital, he would die.

das and I knew what we were going to do, but after the tears and the initial shock, we reviewed our opions anyway.  we needed to know what this would mean in the long run.  what would bowser's life be like after this?  would he always need medicine?  would he just "get over it"?  would he even respond to any treatment?  we were briefly educated on the illness, and there would be three categories into which bowser could fall: fully recovered, recovered but with medicine cocktails for extended periods/rest of his life, or, well, no recovery.  we knew that 66% was certainly worth fighting for (I would have even fought with less of a chance) and we admitted him.

and now here we are.  waiting on news, but fearing what that news might bring.