Nikki and Snoopy (GA)
Member Since 2009
I wanted to let those who may remember us know that I had to put my darling, demanding boy to sleep this morning. While I haven't posted regularly since the beginning of this year, I'm very grateful for what I learned here, and to those of you in particular who helped me learn to manage Snoopy's diabetes.
On May 10th, I took Snoopy in for a dental cleaning, and he had a bad reaction to a painkiller that was given in conjunction with the anesthesia. The fact that we were at a point where tooth decay was even on my radar with regard to his health speaks to how well he was thriving roughly a year after his diabetes diagnosis, some nine months after his initial pancreatitis attack. He'd gained all his weight back, his bg was well-regulated on 3u Lantus BID, and I'd even taken a vacation to see my family, leaving him in the capable hands of a friend for several days.
For some reason, the drugs completely overwhelmed his system. He struggled to wake up after surgery and could not walk, eat, pee, or maintain his own body temperature. When he finally woke up, he was agitated and panicky, so the vet wanted him to be at home with me as much as possible the first few days. He was on IV fluids, bundled up with heating pads and hot water bottles, and had to be syringe-fed. He was completely incapacitated. For several days he could not even lift his head.
After a day or two, he calmed down enough to go back to the vet for daily treatment while he recuperated, and I brought him home again each night. After a few days he could sit up sternally, and thermoregulate on his own, and after a week they removed the IV. With the help of twice-weekly acupuncture treatments, he regained strength and coordination in his extremities, and after two weeks he took a few wobbly steps. It was tough, but he was determined to walk on his own, and a few days later he was walking all over the house -- slowly and carefully, at first, but stronger all the time.
Unfortunately, we had some setbacks, too. Lots of them. First a UTI, then aspiration pneumonia, with three near-hypo scares for good measure (this, despite only giving micro-doses of Lantus and skipping many shots). Then, bizarrely, he went blind, though eventually he regained enough light & shadow to manage comfortably.
Eventually, it became clear the lasting problem would be his struggle with the mechanics of eating. He was hungry and wanted to eat, but he could not chew or swallow well. He would work his jaw sideways and grind his teeth, eventually getting frustrated and giving up (if free feeding) or growing stubborn (if syringe-fed). He lost a lot of weight. We tried everything: x-rays ruled out a dislocated jaw, we repaired the sutures that had been ripped open by his struggles, and removed teeth damaged by the grinding. We even tried a feeding tube to help while his jaw sutures healed, but he vomited so much after the procedure that it would not function properly.
Reading this litany of problems and procedures, you probably think we were nuts, and in retrospect, you'd be right. But at the time, he was making such amazing, steady progress in most every area that each new problem seemed like it would be the "the last one" we needed to solve. We'd come so far already, it didn't seem right to stop -- plus, after the first week or two, he seemed pretty happy with his quality of life. He couldn't run or jump anymore, but he purred loudly every time I picked him up, and he was in a calm groove with day care. Some days he moved around the house so well, it was actually hard to tell there was anything wrong. So we kept going.
Finally, after six weeks or so, we found the crucial piece of the puzzle: the vet saw him have a tremor. When she examined him, he failed the same neurological tests that he'd passed each day previously. Snoopy had a brain tumor. It explained everything -- the initial drug reaction, loss of vision, occasional wobbly walking, jaw grinding, the day-to-day inconsistencies... even some of the odd-but-not-worrisome behavior he'd shown in recent years that I'd just chalked up to Snoopy being Snoopy. It was probably all neurological.
Just having something finally make sense was in itself a great relief... but it also meant that the end of this story would be decline, not recovery. We gave it another week or so to see if the sutures could heal enough to make a difference in his eating, but it became clear that it would not. His sutures made feeding too painful, and he was having at least one small tremor/seizure every day. I didn't want to wait until he had a big seizure, or until he lost any more weight. I didn't want him to struggle or be hungry anymore.
This morning Snoopy woke me by purring on my chest, and he sat in a sunny window a while before we went to the vet. Our wonderful vet tech M, who had shepherded and supported us both through this eight-week ordeal, helped him pass. Compared to the uncertainties that came before, letting him go was calm, easy, and peaceful. He just relaxed his little head into my palm, exactly how he'd fallen asleep a thousand times before.
I wanted to put him down while he was still happy, and I think he was. I'm grateful for that, and for every happy, healthy moment we had together over the past year. I thought I would lose him to pancreatitis last August but he bounced back and thrived, and every day after was a blessing that I counted as it happened. I will miss him terribly, but there's nothing to feel bad about anymore. We tried everything, and he fought hard and well. Now he's at rest. I'm lucky -- I had fifteen wonderful years with my funny, purry, yowly baby boy, and I am so, so grateful for every moment.
Sleep sweetly, darling boy. I love you.
On May 10th, I took Snoopy in for a dental cleaning, and he had a bad reaction to a painkiller that was given in conjunction with the anesthesia. The fact that we were at a point where tooth decay was even on my radar with regard to his health speaks to how well he was thriving roughly a year after his diabetes diagnosis, some nine months after his initial pancreatitis attack. He'd gained all his weight back, his bg was well-regulated on 3u Lantus BID, and I'd even taken a vacation to see my family, leaving him in the capable hands of a friend for several days.
For some reason, the drugs completely overwhelmed his system. He struggled to wake up after surgery and could not walk, eat, pee, or maintain his own body temperature. When he finally woke up, he was agitated and panicky, so the vet wanted him to be at home with me as much as possible the first few days. He was on IV fluids, bundled up with heating pads and hot water bottles, and had to be syringe-fed. He was completely incapacitated. For several days he could not even lift his head.
After a day or two, he calmed down enough to go back to the vet for daily treatment while he recuperated, and I brought him home again each night. After a few days he could sit up sternally, and thermoregulate on his own, and after a week they removed the IV. With the help of twice-weekly acupuncture treatments, he regained strength and coordination in his extremities, and after two weeks he took a few wobbly steps. It was tough, but he was determined to walk on his own, and a few days later he was walking all over the house -- slowly and carefully, at first, but stronger all the time.
Unfortunately, we had some setbacks, too. Lots of them. First a UTI, then aspiration pneumonia, with three near-hypo scares for good measure (this, despite only giving micro-doses of Lantus and skipping many shots). Then, bizarrely, he went blind, though eventually he regained enough light & shadow to manage comfortably.
Eventually, it became clear the lasting problem would be his struggle with the mechanics of eating. He was hungry and wanted to eat, but he could not chew or swallow well. He would work his jaw sideways and grind his teeth, eventually getting frustrated and giving up (if free feeding) or growing stubborn (if syringe-fed). He lost a lot of weight. We tried everything: x-rays ruled out a dislocated jaw, we repaired the sutures that had been ripped open by his struggles, and removed teeth damaged by the grinding. We even tried a feeding tube to help while his jaw sutures healed, but he vomited so much after the procedure that it would not function properly.
Reading this litany of problems and procedures, you probably think we were nuts, and in retrospect, you'd be right. But at the time, he was making such amazing, steady progress in most every area that each new problem seemed like it would be the "the last one" we needed to solve. We'd come so far already, it didn't seem right to stop -- plus, after the first week or two, he seemed pretty happy with his quality of life. He couldn't run or jump anymore, but he purred loudly every time I picked him up, and he was in a calm groove with day care. Some days he moved around the house so well, it was actually hard to tell there was anything wrong. So we kept going.
Finally, after six weeks or so, we found the crucial piece of the puzzle: the vet saw him have a tremor. When she examined him, he failed the same neurological tests that he'd passed each day previously. Snoopy had a brain tumor. It explained everything -- the initial drug reaction, loss of vision, occasional wobbly walking, jaw grinding, the day-to-day inconsistencies... even some of the odd-but-not-worrisome behavior he'd shown in recent years that I'd just chalked up to Snoopy being Snoopy. It was probably all neurological.
Just having something finally make sense was in itself a great relief... but it also meant that the end of this story would be decline, not recovery. We gave it another week or so to see if the sutures could heal enough to make a difference in his eating, but it became clear that it would not. His sutures made feeding too painful, and he was having at least one small tremor/seizure every day. I didn't want to wait until he had a big seizure, or until he lost any more weight. I didn't want him to struggle or be hungry anymore.
This morning Snoopy woke me by purring on my chest, and he sat in a sunny window a while before we went to the vet. Our wonderful vet tech M, who had shepherded and supported us both through this eight-week ordeal, helped him pass. Compared to the uncertainties that came before, letting him go was calm, easy, and peaceful. He just relaxed his little head into my palm, exactly how he'd fallen asleep a thousand times before.
I wanted to put him down while he was still happy, and I think he was. I'm grateful for that, and for every happy, healthy moment we had together over the past year. I thought I would lose him to pancreatitis last August but he bounced back and thrived, and every day after was a blessing that I counted as it happened. I will miss him terribly, but there's nothing to feel bad about anymore. We tried everything, and he fought hard and well. Now he's at rest. I'm lucky -- I had fifteen wonderful years with my funny, purry, yowly baby boy, and I am so, so grateful for every moment.
Sleep sweetly, darling boy. I love you.
