12.22.2008
Roxi
A tribute to Roxi: a gorgeous opinionated 9 year old female German Shepherd, a Greenhill rescue. She was regal and dignified in her last hour, despite struggling for breath and being unable to rise from the kitchen floor. The owner had called to see if I could come put her down; she wouldn't last the night. I gave Roxi some pain relief and sedation under her skin, and talked to her owner while the medications worked. Slowly, Roxi relaxed and leaned back against mom, occasionally opening her eyes and finding her owner for reassurance. Once she seemed to be napping, I raised a vein with a tourniquet and injected the fatal blue solution. Roxi held on longer than she needed to, or should have, and her mom and I both whispered to her that it was okay for her to move on.
I believe that loyal working dogs like shepherds often resist the euthanasia due to their owner's anguish. Even after they pass on physically, sometimes their presence is still so palpable that I am sure they are watching and waiting to ensure their owner will be okay. It feels protective, not frightening or sad. I try to get the owner to talk about all the bad things the dogs did as pups, to get them to laugh through the tears. When the dog finally leaves, their absence is striking.
And so we laughed about Roxi, her stubborn and very vocal nature, her sensitive stomach, and about how she overcame her abused and fearful past to live a wonderful and secure life with her new owner. We marveled that she and her 11 year old canine sister just last week were racing around the yard and wrestling: two old ladies refusing to act their age. We laughed, and Roxi moved on.
She will be missed.
12.11.2008
33 weeks. Toes still visible.
Everyone seems to be fascinated with how fat I am getting. Well, 30 lbs worth. I know that will please many of you (Johanna and Patrick). I now have to use the exam table or a large dog to pull myself up off the floor at work; my staff was joking yesterday that I'll soon be calling from the exam room, "Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!" If there's no nearby hand hold, I have to get into a squat, center myself (balanced between my ass and my belly) and exhale while I stand. Yes, the clients usually have a look of restrained horror during this process.
Here's the evidence (33 weeks pregnant):
And for fun, a comparison at 13 weeks pregnant, with just a little belly:
Off to work this morning. I seem to be playing Dr. Death this week, diagnosing everything I examine with cancer. Please send me warm fuzzy wishes...I am hoping for only puppy and kitten visits today!
Love to everyone,
Liz
Here's the evidence (33 weeks pregnant):
And for fun, a comparison at 13 weeks pregnant, with just a little belly:
Off to work this morning. I seem to be playing Dr. Death this week, diagnosing everything I examine with cancer. Please send me warm fuzzy wishes...I am hoping for only puppy and kitten visits today!
Love to everyone,
Liz
12.02.2008
What its like to faint in the dentist's chair...
I settled into the comfortable padded chair and made small talk with the dental hygienist. She tilted the chair back and sat behind me, picking at my teeth with one of her torture instruments. I was surprised; I actually felt pretty good, although I was expecting nausea due to my uber-sensitive pregnancy-inspired gag reflex. I took a deep breath, listened to the Jack Johnson on the radio, and gazed at the Bible quote on the wall.
(Sidenote: my dentist is a bible-thumper. All around the office, there are strategically placed biblical references and psalms, detailing the many versions of hell waiting for those of us who don't repent. It drives me crazy. Why do I go back? Well, there are just as many pictures of dogs. The dentist's own lab, Sadie, wanders at her leisure around the office, spreading dog hair on everything holy and sterile. It is hard for me to balance my dislike of the inappropriate attempts at religious brainwashing with my powerful approval of the irreverent presence of a dog in a medical office. So far I appear to be more swayed by the dog. I can ignore the Bibles liberally strewn about where the magazines should go.)
So, I'm reading the bible quote and I all of a sudden realize it's rather hot in the exam room. The window shade is up, so the sun is shining on me, and I'm thinking, "My GOD! I need some air! Someone get a fan!" Then Jack Johnson's voice starts to become slightly staticky and far away sounding. I wonder if the music is on the radio, or if the office just has a crummy stereo system. Then I begin to sweat.
Being a vet with a weak constitution, I am no stranger to the sensation of fainting. I once awoke flat-out on the floor of the surgery suite to a cartoonish under-side view of 2 veterinarians and 3 veterinary assistant grinning at me from above. Routinely I have to convince my brain that consciousness is actually an asset while performing a surgical procedure. I have learned to arrest the fainting process in mid-slump, and I'm pretty good at it, if I do say so myself.
So, I thought while reclined in the dentists' chair, "How odd that I am about to faint when I am nearly upside down with my legs elevated and head below heart...Isn't that the treatment for fainting?" I told the hygienist that I needed to sit up, that I was feeling light-headed. She raised me into a sitting position and turned to fill a cup with water. I watched her do this through a very long tunnel; she appeared back-lit and blurry, almost as though I was watching her through a kaleidoscope. Despite breathing deeply and consciously, the light at the end of the tunnel darkened, and I went blind. I heard the hygienist saying my name, and somehow managed to eek out a response that satisfied her that I wasn't dead yet. She told me to sit and get my bearings.
It took me about 20 minutes, 4 dixie cups of water, and 3 paper towels to sop sweat from my neck before I felt at all capable of standing. The baby (note the transition from fetus to baby; only a baby can kick this much!) was rolling around in my belly like a Mexican jumping bean, which only made the vertigo worse. I was amazed. Not only had my trusty anti-fainting techniques failed, but my head now felt like someone was whacking it repeatedly with a hammer. What the heck?
Of course, my solution to any sort of medical quandry is to go Googling. It pisses me off when my clients do it for their animals, but yet it is the first thing I do prior to calling my doctor. So, Dr. Google told me that dental chairs are known fainting triggers for pregnant women, because the weight of the uterus basically collapses the vena cava, which is the garden hose vein that returns blood from the lower extremities to the heart. So, basically the cardiovascular system starts flashing a red error message, and the brain shuts down to prevent total physiologic malfunction. The unfortunate thing is that, despite sitting up slightly, I was still probably reclined enough that my poor vena cava was acting like a hose with a kink, letting enough blood through for consciousness but barely.
Next time it happens, I'll know to get the heck off my back. And then I'll call in the dog for moral support, since the hygienist and God weren't particularly helpful.
(Sidenote: my dentist is a bible-thumper. All around the office, there are strategically placed biblical references and psalms, detailing the many versions of hell waiting for those of us who don't repent. It drives me crazy. Why do I go back? Well, there are just as many pictures of dogs. The dentist's own lab, Sadie, wanders at her leisure around the office, spreading dog hair on everything holy and sterile. It is hard for me to balance my dislike of the inappropriate attempts at religious brainwashing with my powerful approval of the irreverent presence of a dog in a medical office. So far I appear to be more swayed by the dog. I can ignore the Bibles liberally strewn about where the magazines should go.)
So, I'm reading the bible quote and I all of a sudden realize it's rather hot in the exam room. The window shade is up, so the sun is shining on me, and I'm thinking, "My GOD! I need some air! Someone get a fan!" Then Jack Johnson's voice starts to become slightly staticky and far away sounding. I wonder if the music is on the radio, or if the office just has a crummy stereo system. Then I begin to sweat.
Being a vet with a weak constitution, I am no stranger to the sensation of fainting. I once awoke flat-out on the floor of the surgery suite to a cartoonish under-side view of 2 veterinarians and 3 veterinary assistant grinning at me from above. Routinely I have to convince my brain that consciousness is actually an asset while performing a surgical procedure. I have learned to arrest the fainting process in mid-slump, and I'm pretty good at it, if I do say so myself.
So, I thought while reclined in the dentists' chair, "How odd that I am about to faint when I am nearly upside down with my legs elevated and head below heart...Isn't that the treatment for fainting?" I told the hygienist that I needed to sit up, that I was feeling light-headed. She raised me into a sitting position and turned to fill a cup with water. I watched her do this through a very long tunnel; she appeared back-lit and blurry, almost as though I was watching her through a kaleidoscope. Despite breathing deeply and consciously, the light at the end of the tunnel darkened, and I went blind. I heard the hygienist saying my name, and somehow managed to eek out a response that satisfied her that I wasn't dead yet. She told me to sit and get my bearings.
It took me about 20 minutes, 4 dixie cups of water, and 3 paper towels to sop sweat from my neck before I felt at all capable of standing. The baby (note the transition from fetus to baby; only a baby can kick this much!) was rolling around in my belly like a Mexican jumping bean, which only made the vertigo worse. I was amazed. Not only had my trusty anti-fainting techniques failed, but my head now felt like someone was whacking it repeatedly with a hammer. What the heck?
Of course, my solution to any sort of medical quandry is to go Googling. It pisses me off when my clients do it for their animals, but yet it is the first thing I do prior to calling my doctor. So, Dr. Google told me that dental chairs are known fainting triggers for pregnant women, because the weight of the uterus basically collapses the vena cava, which is the garden hose vein that returns blood from the lower extremities to the heart. So, basically the cardiovascular system starts flashing a red error message, and the brain shuts down to prevent total physiologic malfunction. The unfortunate thing is that, despite sitting up slightly, I was still probably reclined enough that my poor vena cava was acting like a hose with a kink, letting enough blood through for consciousness but barely.
Next time it happens, I'll know to get the heck off my back. And then I'll call in the dog for moral support, since the hygienist and God weren't particularly helpful.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)