I know I never update this thing, so I’m sure it never even gets looked at anymore. That doesn’t really matter, though, because I just need to use it as a release today.
Last week we took my dog Parker to the vet to see if he could have some growths removed. He’s a miniature schnauzer, so growths are fairly common, but he’s almost 16 so we weren’t sure if they could do surgery or not. The vet wanted to remove them, though. I was so scared he wouldn’t wake up from the anesthesia, but he did. An hour after he woke up, he had his first seizure. The vet gave him some medicine and kept him for observation, and he had another seizure that night. The vet kept him again, and this time he went 24-hours without having one so they sent him home.
Parker was doing so well. He was eating and drinking well. He was moving around better than he was before the surgery. My parents thought the worst was over. My mom called me this morning, though, saying that Parker had another seizure. At first she didn’t know what was going on. She picked him up, and he had lost control of his bladder and bowel movements. He was moving rigidly and sporadically. His jaw was clenched. And he kept whining, almost crying. She said it sounded like he was saying “Mom! Mom!” (I know it sounds silly, but I swear he can talk sometimes.) Mom called my dad at work to have him look up the number for the vet because she couldn’t get into the phone book because Parker was so hard to control. Dad locked up the store and went home. They called the vet and drove 25 miles to take him to the closest vet. The vet had to give him an injection to get the seizure to fully stop. They’re keeping him for awhile to get him on medication to try to control the seizures. The vet thinks he has a brain tumor, which means things could continue to get worse.
I know Parker has had a long and awesome life filled with people who love him and spoil him, but the thought of him not being here anymore scares me. He’s been my best friend since I was in 2nd grade. We’d play tag together. He let me dress him up. When I was sad, he’d lay by me for hours and lick my tears away. Now he’s sick and he’s scared and there’s nothing I can do about it because I live three hours away. I did go visit him the weekend before he had his surgery, but that’s not enough. I feel like I’m failing him, like he’s going to think I don’t love him because I’m not there to help him like he was always there to help me. I love him so much, and I don’t want him to be in pain. I pray that he’s not in too much pain because I couldn’t stand it. He’s my baby. He’s my best friend.
I'm 30. When did that happen?
I don't feel 30, so I guess this is my attempt to figure out who I am at this point in my life that has snuck up on me oh-so-quickly.