July 18, 2000
I've already sent out email to some who read here, but I'm sure I missed some (Dave and Jeff come to mind - sorry, guys :/) so a brief recap is in order:
The bloating Chelsea was experiencing was due to her heart condition. Basically, the heart murmur means that her heart doesn't function as efficiently as it should. Since the bad valve is on the right side, one of the problems can be fluid buildup in the abdominal cavity. That's essentially what happened. Her heart wasn't pushing the blood through her body well enough, so fluids were kind of backing up.
To ease the difficulty, they inserted a needle into that area and drew out (get this) 625 cc of fluid. (There are 30 cc to an ounce, so that's about 20-21 ounces.) We picked her up a couple hours later and she already seemed to feel a lot better. She was definitely a lot perkier last night.
While I was up at the desk paying the receptionist ($161!), Bruce was waiting in the lobby. They kept telling me they'd brought her out, but I kept saying no, they hadn't. I was pretty sure of this, since the leash was in my pocket and even without that 625 cc, she wasn't likely to fit in there. And Chelsea does not go outside the house without a leash.
After consulting various other people in the building, they came back and said, yes, your dog has been brought out. Your husband has her.
Heh. I should have figured that out. Bruce and I get that a lot. I just had to torment them a bit, so I said, "Well, that's odd. I'm not married." The look on the assistant's face was priceless. She had this expression of horror that was so clear, I could read her mind, "Oh my God! We've lost her dog!" I took pity on her then and laughed, "But I do have a friend here with me. They must have given her to him." Her look of relief was just as priceless. I'm so evil sometimes. (Muahahaha!)
Sure enough, I walk around the corner and there is Chelsea, sitting quite happily on Bruce's lap. (This in itself is pretty odd, since she won't usually sit on anyone's lap except mine.) Then came the next surprise. Chelsea (naturally) wanted down right away. We clipped the leash to her collar and when she hopped down, Bruce pointed to the liquid on the floor and said, "She's leaking." Ahhh. Well, vet offices are like that. Dogs always seem to piddle in there. No big deal.
"No. She's leaking." And when I looked at him I realized what he was saying. The place where they'd inserted the needle was still producing fluid. Lots of fluid. Bruce's jeans were clear evidence of that. Uhh... hmmm. Ick.
It took awhile to get her into the car, since A) She didn't want to be picked up (probably because her tummy was still sore) and B) She couldn't quite jump high enough to put herself into the car. She growled and snapped at Bruce when he tried to help her up and did the same to me when I tried. Since I didn't think she could run alongside the car for the 6 mile journey home, I decided to half-lift and half-push her into the car. She ended up on the floor. Had one of her little attacks. Calmed down. Didn't look like she wanted to move.
Ok, so Bruce would have to move the seat up a bit and we'd just leave her there on the floor till we got home. Dilemma number one solved. On the way home, we stopped to get first aid supplies - tape, gauze, etc. I ran in, Bruce drove her around the block a time or two, to keep her quiet and distract her from the fact that I wasn't in the car. (This is a dog who goes nuts when left in a car without me.) Bruce is a genius - that worked perfectly.
Spent $25 on gauze and a couple of different kinds of stick-to-itself tape. The day was getting more expensive by the minute. Walked outside and Bruce pulled up just in time. By now, Chelsea's up and walking around the back seat. I look at the floor where she'd been laying to see that it was pretty well soaked. Uhh... wow. Guess I'll have to get these carpets cleaned.
Finally, finally we get home. Chelsea is dripping all over the house. Drip, drip, drip. It's basically a clear fluid with a dark pink color to it. The carpets in the house (like those in the car) are light beige. The furniture is light beige. Everything is rapidly becoming light beige with pink spots at this point.
Chelsea's happy to be home. She takes a gigantic drink of water. We can hear her slurping as I'm getting the bandages ready and Bruce is trying to get some of this stuff off the front of his jeans. I bought these gauze pads that are expressly made for draining wounds. Surely, these will do the trick. This can't last long. I took one and folded it in half, then tried to place it where I thought the fluid was coming from (it was hard to tell, since her whole underside was wet by this time.) The dripping stopped, so I felt safe in going back to the office with Bruce so he can pick up his own car.
When I get home, she's happily waiting by the front window, unaware of the fact that I came in through the garage. I call her over and she still looks pretty happy. So I blot up a couple more pink spots from the carpet and go to change clothes. While I'm brushing my hair, she comes into the bathroom. Drip, drip, drip.
Argh! I figure I missed the spot after all. Check the bandage. Argh! The gauze and the tape is totally soaked. (All this took maybe a half hour.) Ok, well this obviously isn't going to work. Luckily, I have this thing about bar mop kitchen towels. I buy them by the dozen at Sam's. (I just knew that someday they'd come in handy.) So I take one of those, fold it up and tape it to her belly. That seems to work.
About a half hour later: drip, drip, drip. We repeat the process using the second roll of tape (the first is now in two pieces, rinsed out, and is now drying on the shower curtain rod). About 40 minutes later: drip, drip, drip. We repeat the process again. I'm now almost out of the second roll of tape.
I call the animal hospital. "Uhh... how long is this going to go on?" They tell me that they're really sorry and if I want to, they'll stay open so I can bring her back for the night. No, I don't want to do that. She's had enough trauma for one day. Dr. Linda suggests putting a towel against it (she's now soaked three of them) and using some pressure. Riiiight. Chelsea's so keyed up she doesn't even want to sit. "Umm.. maybe you could tie a bath towel around her?" We both laugh. Given Chelsea's size, the idea of that is totally absurd. "Oh well, I've always called her Squirt anyway." More laughter. "Good luck!" she says. "Call us tomorrow if it's still a problem." (This was at 8pm.)
Ok, I figured I might be in for a very long night. I called Bruce and asked him to go get me some more tape. The towels should hold out, but the tape is going fast. Five minutes after I get off the phone with him: drip, drip, drip. So I pull it all off again, double up a towel and retape. The bathroom looks like a hospital laundry room. There are pink spots all over the carpet. I've washed my hands 18 times in the past two hours. I run around the house with towels, soaking up the pink spots and mumbling to myself, and laughing. It was all so ridiculous.
Finally, I think I have most of the pink soaked up and the dripping seems to have slowed down, so I collapse on the couch. Bruce shows up, hands me the tape ($13 worth), kisses the dog, and leaves so he can wash his jeans. Chelsea finally stops running around and settles onto a towel I put on the carpet. I knew she'd do that. Why, I don't know. But I don't think it's unusual either. Put anything on the carpet and a dog will lie down on it. My idea was that if the bandage started leaking before I noticed it, the carpet would be somewhat protected.This went on for a couple of hours, although it all slowed down after Bruce left. I did wake up every couple of hours last night so I could check the dressing. Not being a big fan of pink, I didn't want to sleep through the night to wake and find a lot of new pink art around the house.
Thankfully, the dripping stopped sometime after 4am (the last time I checked), and I'm tentatively leaving her bandage-free for now. I just gave her a heart pill ($34 a month) and she's sleeping in the hall behind me. Oh, and she can jump again. I had a bowl of cereal last night and as soon as I finished it, she leaped off the floor, over my legs and onto the couch in a single bound. I guess she's feeling better. :)
I'm really, really tired. But that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach is gone for now. It's been an exciting 24 hours. Wish you were here.
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