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It was a long night.  We just got back from the ER and the prognosis is, I’m doing fine physically but they are still worried about my emotional state.  They wanted to put me on Trazodone but my human declined.  She thinks I have enough drugs being pumped into me at the moment.

I still will not get up at home by myself.  We have a routine.  My female human (not the male human!) puts my harness on me.  She then grabs the entire bed that I am on AND the harness together and lifts me up.  I take a couple of minutes to get my sea legs.  One of the reasons I was sent home early was because I would jump up anytime someone walked by my kennel.  My humans are worried about why I won’t get up at home and why I just lay here like a fish.  The other reason they sent me home early was the howling.   I wake up and howl quite mournfully.

Now you have to understand, Saturday afternoon was great.  I was feeling good for the first time since the surgery and may have walked around too much because I started to bruise.  I had not had any bruising really.  My humans were checking me all night and marking on me with magic marker to make sure the bruising wasn’t spreading.  There were multiple calls to the vet and around 11:30 PM, they packed me up in the car and took me in to see a vet because I was refusing to do anything, even get out of bed.  I had to be carried out to the car on a stretcher.

There is something magical about cars and the digestive track.  Going for a ride helps colic in horses and humans.  And apparently greyhounds too.  About 15 minutes from the vets, I had to go.  I stood up in the back of the car, maintained my balance on 3 legs then started to cry and do the poopy pant.  About 5 minutes from the vets, I couldn’t take it anymore and emptied my bladder and my intestines in the car while we were going down the interstate.  I was impressed that I had this much balance as the road was really bumpy.   Pooch Pads are amazing and absorbed ALL of the mess.  I was able to fold the pad over and then settle in on a dry spot.

As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, I jumped up on my own, walked down the ramp, and let the vet tech take my leash and we walked into the ER together, leaving my human to clean up the mess in the car.   I don’t have thumbs so I did the best I could already anyway. After a complete exam, the verdict was nerves and maybe pain.  Of course there is pain.  Even with all the drugs I’m on, I am not pain free and then there is still the whole, “oh look, you’re leg is gone” deal to get over.

I got a new Fentanyl patch.  They shaved me and put it over my right kidney.  The entire pack questions the placement of this.  The old one was going to come off on 4/16 and this one needs to come off on 4/19 instead.  I’m supposed to be on 100 mg of Tramadol every 8 hours and to finish up the 50 mg of Rimadyl 2x a day.  First they reduce my dose on Friday to see if the Tramadol is making me too light headed to walk and now they want me on more of the stuff.

I’m supposed to get up and walk around every 4 hours even if it is just to walk around the living room.   I’m not sure I like this idea but the choice isn’t up to me anymore.

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