Journal

Someone received a package of handmade goods from Grandma!

(Lot’s more to write soon. But wanted to upload pictures ASAP. Thanks!)

Effie hasn’t a thing to wear. What’s a girl to do?

Improvise, of course.

But wait.. I’ll back up..

The post-op instructions specified that she needs to wear either a t-shirt or The Cone of Shame, until the sutures heal. The t-shirt is definitely the preferred option, but we have had a ridiculous time trying to get it to stay on. Myself, C, and doggie-daycare staff have all tried some combination of shirt-tying and safety pins, but no dice.

So..

We put our heads together — me and The Effer — and we came up with a somewhat creative solution for her fashion conundrum: A plain black camisole with both armstraps over her left shoulder, and then both tied to the extra width in a bow.

Here’s to hoping that this can serve to protect her sutures AND stay on while walking and sleeping. (Tall order, I know!)

Later, fashion feinds!

First morning at the new place. So much quieter here — except for the chatty birds. Effie loves it.

She spent the day at doggie-daycare yesterday. In an executive decision, and after consulting with the surgeon and her staff, we decided that a day (in the recovery room) there would provide some normalcy to an otherwise chaotic couple of weeks: Between my trip out of town, then her getting a small (benign) adenoma removed, then the broken leg — and days of confusion and pain, and then office visits and radiograms and blood work and then surgery and waking up in an unfamiliar place without us anywhere to be seen or heard — it’s been a tough seventeen days for The Effer.

Plus, it allowed us to do all the packing and moving required to get essentials and valuables carted to the new place (without causing her further stress). The decision was clinched after we noted (1) her panting and drooling at the sight of me organizing and (2) that she made a beeline (as best she could) to the car, as if going to daycare. We called the surgical technician, to confirm it was a safe and healthy choice, and made our way over.

The welcome she received when we arrived brought tears to my eyes. (But I kept it together! I swear!) They took such amazing amazing care of her yesterday, through a few bouts of anxiety and/or pain: It is clear that their work is a passion and mission for them, and that they’ve grown to love her too. So we slept here for the first time last night, after a long day (plus sixteen) for us all.

The morning walk in the yard was uplifting. I had originally hoped we’d take that walk on the 28th. (She broke her leg while running to the car from the front apartment door on the 28th. C was at work at the time. I was taking her over to the new place on my lunchbreak. I was so excited for her to run the yard for the first time, to wander around and take in the atmosphere.)

But that broken leg turned out to be a blessing: It was removed before any clear signs of metastasis. So this morning was a peaceful and a thankful one. Looking forward to more like it.

We picked her up at 5:30, after getting the all-clear from the doctor. The amputation went well, no complications. Before leaving, we scheduled a consultation with the oncologist for two weeks out, to discuss the first round of chemo. We were told that she was eating and drinking normally earlier today, although she had some trouble keeping things down. The doctor added an antiemetic to the list of Rxs to help with the nausea. She fell asleep almost immediately after getting into the car. (Consequently, the harness was instrumental in getting her into the house.) She is pretty doped up, and sleeping soundly — chasing dream-squirrels, her three paws twitching away.