My big lovely boy Hobbes has just been diagnosed with canine diabetes. He's in the emergency hospital racking up an enormous bill, well over a thousand dollars of supportive care.
They've started him on insulin and are trying to regulate his dose. If he stabilizes, then he might come home today, or maybe tomorrow. He doesn't have organ failure or any infections, so that's good. It certainly explains his precipitous weight loss and lethargy though.
He'll have to be tested and given insulin shots twice a day from now on though. I'm fine with doing that, but I'm still reeling from the diagnosis. OK, I should clarify that. I was secretly thinking that it must be cancer as I watched him get thinner and thinner every day. I'm glad it's not cancer. And diabetes is not any sort of a death sentence. I just have to redefine myself as an owner of a dog with a chronic condition.
Ooo! Just thought of an excellent side effect. I can no longer travel to visit my mother nor entertain any conversations regarding travel to visit my mother. "Do you want Hobbes to DIE? I can't leave him with a sitter. He'd DIE!"
His glucose levels were insane. Normal blood glucose is like 120? His was 700. (Forgot the units there. My dad the engineer would kill me for posting a number with no units.) There should be no glucose in the urine. His urine glucose came back at 1,000. Geez, man. How do you have values like that and still bark at the car next to us at the stop light on your way to the hospital? He hasn't been perky in days. But bring a sick animal to the hospital and look out. Ears up, tail wagging, panting at the nurse, walking on a taut lead to the exam room. "Oh boy. Doctor's office. Hi there! I'm Hobbes. Hi! Pleased to meet you!"
I keep thinking I can hear his nails clicking on the sliding door as he taps it to be let in. I think the cat is looking for him too.
Side note: Neo is going to be FOURTEEN years old on Monday. Fourteen. One four. How is that possible?
4 comments:
Oh gads, sympathies on the canine situation. Sweet puppy, glad you're his caring momma.
And you should TOTALLY take advantage of this opportunity to beg off dreaded family interactions. Pets come before (awful) mothers.
And my neff turned 14 this summer, and is a freshman in high school. It seems absolutely impossible. Impossible, I tell you. I demand a re-count.
Hey. Me too. Definite need for a recount here.
My husband is completely freaking out. Soon we're going to be parents of a, Christ, twenty year old.
Hobbes is home and doing much better.
I called my mom to tell her about Hobbes' drama. She used the opportunity to tell me how much money she spent a few years ago on a parrot who had to have his wing amputated after another of her birds attacked it.
Why? Why am I on the phone with this person?
I don't know why you're on the phone with her. Me, I have developed a dewy-eyed love for my Caller ID and a hundred excellent reasons for not picking up the phone.
Too weird. This was what our Emma (black and white cat) was diagnosed with in September - 2 shots daily of insulin - we're still doing the glucose curve thing. Fun. Thing was, Emma was at death's door only I didn't recognize it because our boy Cody finally succumbed to his cancer. Two weeks later I'm at the vet that was Cody's vet and she's trying not to tell me my cat's going to die.
7 days of hospitalization = no new hardwood floors ;)
Hope Hobbes is up and about again soon.
And Happy Birthday to Neo!
cIndys
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