Suddenly *Not So* Single Journey

Because of Cowboy and Wills…

Wednesday, September 1st, 2010

One of the smartest things I’ve ever done is to join the From Left to Write Online Book Club.  I have been blessed with an amazing array of books…free!  And the latest read, like the last two, hit close to home.

Unlike Monica Holloway, the author of Cowboy and Wills, I don’t have a son struggling with Autism.  Oh, but like her, I have a dog with a mystery illness.  And, like her, we are going to great lengths and great expense to diagnose it.

It all began soon after Bishop came home.  Within a matter of weeks, he was headed back to the vet with a strange case of diarrhea.  After testing for several curable illnesses, and with nothing concrete to work with, he was sent home with antibiotics and special pricey puppy food.

The digestive issues were cured, it seemed.  And then it was a strange skin ailment.  After another vet visit, wipes were prescribed and the skin lesions proclaimed a fungal infection.  It seemed to work…for a while.

Next came another vet visit in early spring for the recurring lesions.  It was a new shampoo ordered this time.  And new soap.  And another antibiotic.  All for the love of Bishop.

By July, I wasn’t overly surprised that the lesions seemed to be popping back up on his underbelly.  I was, however, surprised, by the severity of Bishop’s other symptoms.  He couldn’t get off the couch, his legs were stiff, his appetite was non-existent, his energy sapped.  It was a trip to the emergency vet and loads of tests and bags of fluid under his skin and three weeks worth of antibiotics before he could come home.  It was a long night.  And the convalescing was even longer.

Determined to peak his interest in food, I found myself baking dog biscuits and scrambling eggs.  I hid pills in ham rolls and pepperoni.  I finally found the perfect way to drug the dog.  I made Bishop twice a day peanut butter and pill sandwiches.  It was the perfect combination to hide the pill and ensure his compliance.

By the end of the course of antibiotics, Bishop seemed great…the picture of dog health.  Only…within three weeks I had noticed the lesions were appearing once more.  So, HE took Bishop to the vet.  It was a source of friction between us.

At first I didn’t understand it.  And then I knew…HE felt that I was questioning his ability as a pet parent.  HE thought that I didn’t think he was doing enough.  More, however, was our differing approaches to the medical profession.  HE believes and trusts implicitly those with a higher education.  I have a higher education.  I believe I can question anyone, that no one is infallible.

And I had just finished reading Cowboy and Wills the day before Bishop went to the vet once more.

me: Have them test him for lupus.

HIM: I’ll mention it.

Then later.

me: Did they test for lupus?

HIM: I mentioned it, but they want to test for tick born illnesses first.

me: His flea meds are also a tick preventative and he already had a tick scratch test.  Have them test for lupus instead.

HIM: What do you want from me?!  Why don’t you talk to them when you pick Bishop up?

me: Okay.

And so I did.  I called.  I didn’t even wait to pick Bishop up.

I heard what the vet said.  Bishop had received several other treatments, new antibiotics and more fluids.  He hadn’t had any more tests done.  And the fact that vet kept mentioning bloat, a twisting of the stomach that often results in nearly instant death, made me doubt her even more.

WE came to an agreement.  WE decided to humor the vet…this time.  Bishop will be off the new course of antibiotics on Friday.  At the rate these flare ups occur, he should be sick in another month.  (It’s always good to have something to look forward to.)  At that time, we will have him tested for lupus.  It should be a simple blood test…and a skin biopsy.

Wish us luck.  We’re running out of patience.  We’re low on money.  At least time seems to be on our side.

Bishop hasn’t worked the miracles Cowboy did, but he’s still a  valued member of the family and oh so very loved.

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