Another day of ultrasound, tests, waiting – with a twist
Well, here we go again.
Only three hours of sleep last night, despite my good intentions of going to bed early so I could get up way early. Was a few minutes late getting here but nobody minds because even at 915 a.m. they are running behind.
I am waiting for an ultrasound, and likely clotting panel bloodwork. I am told when I check in that the “late morning” arrival of the sonographer will be more like noon … “And he is frequently late,” the girl behind the desk adds. I ask if I can come back closer to the actual time. I’m told no, because if he shows up and I’m not here, he’ll just leave. That is not an option for us. I’m told I can just leave my little one there and pick him up when it’s over. I opt to wait. The girl behind the counter looks down at me through her overly large, somehow trendy plastic frames, then slips away to the back rooms again.
Except for a patient or two getting medication instructions or playing on their phone, I’m alone in a silent waiting room. One wall, the one to my back, is a full glass window and the morning sun already is baking me. It’s going to be a miserably hot summer if it’s already so hot before 10 a.m. He’s panting. I’ll give him some water in a cup from the car in a minute. Perhaps we’ll go for a walk under the guise of “going outside.”
After all, would you leave this little man alone for hours on end with strangers when you don’t have to?
Yep, that’s Pippin, and my 6-year-old maltese and I are at the vet for the third time in less than a week, two of them “worked-in” semi-emergency visits.
What, you thought this visit was about me?
On Friday the first vet took xrays and found a seriously bloated stomach on this little dog with what seems to be *something* in him – cancer, a foreign object, we don’t know. On sunday I gave him a bath and found his neck and chest were black and red, so off we went to the vet much closer to my house (and more importantly, open on sundays). Seems that’s a giant bruise from jugular blood draw; it happened again when Vet No. 2 drew that day and even put pressure and ice on it. That’s why his neck is shaved and looks so awful. It actually is looking better! I hate to have him punctured again today.
Four different vets have looked st his xrays, including two that are friends of mine and my mom. Many theories have been tossed out, from tumors to having eaten part of a dead rat and maybe he’s suffering from the blood thinner in rat poison (so unbelievably unlikely). All opinions seem to end with seemingly inevitable stomach surgery. I’m hoping that the ultrasound today will tell me something different, something positive.
But right now, we’re waiting and testing and wondering. I’d rather it was happening to me than to Pippin. Right now, he just wants to be held and told he’s good and have a drink of water.
I can handle that.
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