The Return of the Pest
Monday, July 24, 2006
F’ster seems a tiny bit more stable on his feet today. He was able to make it out the back door in a straight line, which has been difficult in recent days. The pus in his eye seems to be decreasing, though I still had to irrigate it a couple of times. I don’t think he’s seeing out of that eye at all any more, but it’s good to see that the infection or whatever was causing it to puff has gone down.
His dad, unfortunately, is getting worse!
My arthritic toe exploded in flaming pain the other day, with no more provocation than a morning spent doing yard work. By Sunday afternoon, it felt as if someone had tried to amputate the toe, but failed. I wished they had succeeded.
Today the toe is better, but the funny, lopsided walk I’ve done for the past two days threw my back out. I feel as though one of those horses had kicked me square on the spine. My back makes a sharp left turn about three vertebra up, and my only walk is a painful little shuffle from side to side, alternately triggering the crippling pain center in my back, and in my toe -- back, toe, back, toe, back, toe, slowly around the house.
Several times today, Frisco rang the little bell hanging on the back door, to tell me he wanted to go outside. I don’t want to say no to him, in his condition, especially because one side-effect of prednazone is increased urination.
Another symptom is intense hunger, and it turns out that each time but one, he was just looking for sticks and grass to fill his belly. I wanted to let him spend some time outside, but I wasn’t able to tolerate the spine-killing patio furniture. Each time, I had to bring him back inside, where he stood by the back door, ringing his bell and being a nuisance.
He did want me to throw his ball for him a couple of times, which tells me his spirits are up. Unfortunately, the flesh was weak, and he had a devil of a time finding it when I threw it. He quickly gave up on the game. But still, the fact that he was acting like the fetch-pest he always was, would have been very gratifying to me if I hadn’t been in such pain.
The one time he did need to go, he wasn’t able to stand still enough to do it. He trotted clumsily a few paces ahead of me, then squatted to pee -- and just about fell right over on his side. I tried to lurch through the pain to help him, but I couldn’t move quickly enough. Fortunately, he managed to take a couple of clumsy side-steps and right himself, just about the time I was finally there to stabilize him. I was reminded of the time when I was a kid learning to ride a bike, and my dad lost his grip on my bike seat as I hurtled too quickly toward a chain-link fence. Not having exactly mastered the complexities of braking, I slammed right into the fence, knocked the wind out of myself, and spent the rest of the day gasping for air. I’ve always wondered what it must have felt like for my dad to watch me, helpless to catch up and help me when I needed it. Now I think I understand.
F’ster seems a tiny bit more stable on his feet today. He was able to make it out the back door in a straight line, which has been difficult in recent days. The pus in his eye seems to be decreasing, though I still had to irrigate it a couple of times. I don’t think he’s seeing out of that eye at all any more, but it’s good to see that the infection or whatever was causing it to puff has gone down.
His dad, unfortunately, is getting worse!
My arthritic toe exploded in flaming pain the other day, with no more provocation than a morning spent doing yard work. By Sunday afternoon, it felt as if someone had tried to amputate the toe, but failed. I wished they had succeeded.
Today the toe is better, but the funny, lopsided walk I’ve done for the past two days threw my back out. I feel as though one of those horses had kicked me square on the spine. My back makes a sharp left turn about three vertebra up, and my only walk is a painful little shuffle from side to side, alternately triggering the crippling pain center in my back, and in my toe -- back, toe, back, toe, back, toe, slowly around the house.
Several times today, Frisco rang the little bell hanging on the back door, to tell me he wanted to go outside. I don’t want to say no to him, in his condition, especially because one side-effect of prednazone is increased urination.
Another symptom is intense hunger, and it turns out that each time but one, he was just looking for sticks and grass to fill his belly. I wanted to let him spend some time outside, but I wasn’t able to tolerate the spine-killing patio furniture. Each time, I had to bring him back inside, where he stood by the back door, ringing his bell and being a nuisance.
He did want me to throw his ball for him a couple of times, which tells me his spirits are up. Unfortunately, the flesh was weak, and he had a devil of a time finding it when I threw it. He quickly gave up on the game. But still, the fact that he was acting like the fetch-pest he always was, would have been very gratifying to me if I hadn’t been in such pain.
The one time he did need to go, he wasn’t able to stand still enough to do it. He trotted clumsily a few paces ahead of me, then squatted to pee -- and just about fell right over on his side. I tried to lurch through the pain to help him, but I couldn’t move quickly enough. Fortunately, he managed to take a couple of clumsy side-steps and right himself, just about the time I was finally there to stabilize him. I was reminded of the time when I was a kid learning to ride a bike, and my dad lost his grip on my bike seat as I hurtled too quickly toward a chain-link fence. Not having exactly mastered the complexities of braking, I slammed right into the fence, knocked the wind out of myself, and spent the rest of the day gasping for air. I’ve always wondered what it must have felt like for my dad to watch me, helpless to catch up and help me when I needed it. Now I think I understand.
posted by Unknown at 11:57 PM
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