This past two and a half days have been brutal.
I had my second MRI on Friday, and while it went better than the first one, I didn’t feel like I was burning up in the machine this time, I still ended up with a headache from the contrast. The tech did tell me that about one out of ten patients he has ends up with a headache due to the contrast. That just reaffirmed my theory about why I ended up with a migraine the last time. So Friday I just took it easy, slept and watched some TV. Really didn’t feel like doing much of anything else the rest of the day.
Saturday morning was one of the scariest I have had in years. I woke to the sounds of Hobbie (my dog, and to me a best friend) thrashing and flopping around. When I got to him his eyes were rolled back and his right front leg was rigid. He was breathing heavy and not responsive to my voice. I have seen plenty of seizures during the course of my professional career, and he was having a seizure.
I was able to get him up and into the living room where he would have more space in the event of another seizure, and sat with him until he finally calmed down. He laid on the floor listless, with a look of fear in his eyes. I felt so horrible for him. Once I felt that he was through the worst of the problem I did some research on what happened, and it seems that he had a stroke. I would take him to a vet, but I literally do not have the money to do so.
By six yesterday evening he was starting to get up and walk around on his own, and went outside to potty (“potty” I feel like I’m seven again). He drank some water, and ate a bit of meat. He did not touch his dog food, but did snack on some pieces of fat from dinner. It was 4 A.M. by the time I was so exhausted that I needed to go to bed. He had gone from not moving at all to walking around the house, albeit slowly, and following me to where ever I was. I heard him come into the bedroom after I laid down, sigh and flop to the floor. I had to smile, because that is what he does every night. He used to jump up on to the bed with me, and fight me for the pillows, but over the past six months he has been doing that less and less. I guess age is finally catching up with him, at 10 or 11 years old, he is getting long in the tooth, and it is starting to show. He now has as much grey on his muzzle as I have on my chin, like father like son.
This morning he seems more himself, only a lot slower. Only time will tell what is going to happen, but I am hoping and praying that he will make a fairly good recovery. He really is a great dog and I do love him as I would if he was my own child. I know if you have never had an animal companion it is a hard concept to wrap your head around, but when they have been with you through thick and thin they do become family. He has been with me through two divorces, job changes and illness. I owe it to him to take care of him as best I can. I only wish I could do more.