Down
A mini-update...
Things continue to be highly unpleasant and stressed for everyone here at the Dragon Lair.
Although, Phoenix will have you know that the sympathy pain and agony of family don't mean *shit* when it's your ass being shaved. Also needles. And blood. And icky stuff shot down your throat. And--
Basically, every day is fresh toasted hell with endless humiliation thank you, and his good will is *gone*.
Actually, it's not. He gets (rightfully) pissed, but he has an *amazing* capacity to forgive. Forget? Not at all. He keeps having panic attacks.
I can't sleep. Even if I could, he needs the comfort of company. He wails. Sometimes he freaks out and hides. I'm not sure how much it helps, but staying close and Dory-crooning 'it's alright, it's okay' is definitely my job.
They've had to give him glucose the past three weeks at the vets. Each time, he came home looking worse, his fur all stiff and spiked in thwarted rage, much like he had rolled in hair gel, trying to recreate the unfortunate spiky mess trend that was bed head. Oh yes, he put up a hell of fight indeed, but the turkey baster of sugar water and a team of vets won the war. *insert hiss here*
They had had his dose up at six, then five, then four, and still he crashed from too much insulin. As of Monday, his dose is back down to 3, the original dose his treatment started with. It's so frustrating, and prolonging, and I'm hoping he doesn't yo-yo, but the vets have no answer. Not that I have polite questions. No. The best of them all start with something like WTF...?
The SU smarted that Pheen is making himself better, that he is so dang stubborn, he is out-stubborning diabetes.
Well, you know, if anyone could do it, my Boo-Boo can.
Things continue to be highly unpleasant and stressed for everyone here at the Dragon Lair.
Although, Phoenix will have you know that the sympathy pain and agony of family don't mean *shit* when it's your ass being shaved. Also needles. And blood. And icky stuff shot down your throat. And--
Basically, every day is fresh toasted hell with endless humiliation thank you, and his good will is *gone*.
Actually, it's not. He gets (rightfully) pissed, but he has an *amazing* capacity to forgive. Forget? Not at all. He keeps having panic attacks.
I can't sleep. Even if I could, he needs the comfort of company. He wails. Sometimes he freaks out and hides. I'm not sure how much it helps, but staying close and Dory-crooning 'it's alright, it's okay' is definitely my job.
They've had to give him glucose the past three weeks at the vets. Each time, he came home looking worse, his fur all stiff and spiked in thwarted rage, much like he had rolled in hair gel, trying to recreate the unfortunate spiky mess trend that was bed head. Oh yes, he put up a hell of fight indeed, but the turkey baster of sugar water and a team of vets won the war. *insert hiss here*
They had had his dose up at six, then five, then four, and still he crashed from too much insulin. As of Monday, his dose is back down to 3, the original dose his treatment started with. It's so frustrating, and prolonging, and I'm hoping he doesn't yo-yo, but the vets have no answer. Not that I have polite questions. No. The best of them all start with something like WTF...?
The SU smarted that Pheen is making himself better, that he is so dang stubborn, he is out-stubborning diabetes.
Well, you know, if anyone could do it, my Boo-Boo can.
<< Home