Thor's Day
Thursday was Gany's second "curve" at the vet. She gets to spend the whole day there while they monitor her blood-sugar levels. Gany isn't happy about this, but she's not complaining a whole lot. We get to the vet's office and I start to sign her in, when this woman enters in a frantic state.
"Is there a technician that can help me bring my dog in? She's really sick. Her tongue is blue!"
She goes out to her car and I can see that she's trying to coax her dog out. I head out to see if I can carry her dog in. The dog is in a very bad shape: glassy-eyed, gasping, blue tongue. The woman is completely freaking out and is still trying to coax the dog out. Somehow she gets the dog out of the car, where it then proceeds to lie on the ground. I scoop the dog up - she's completely limp and non-responsive - and head inside. "Oh! my God!" exclaimed the receptionist. I had the dog to her and she takes her back to put her on oxygen and try to help her. The woman is distraught.
I finish signing Gany in and head to work. And because I'm nigh-empathic, I feel sad for the dog and her owner the whole day. I fear the worse.
The good news of the day is that Gany's blood-sugar levels were between 100 and 200 the whole day, and she hadn't had an insulin injection since the previous midnight. There are reports that this type of insulin can "cure" cats of their diabetes. The vet is cautiously optimistic.
The bad news is that they had to put the dog down. There was just nothing they could do for her. The vet thinks that she had a heart attack.
. . .
"Is there a technician that can help me bring my dog in? She's really sick. Her tongue is blue!"
She goes out to her car and I can see that she's trying to coax her dog out. I head out to see if I can carry her dog in. The dog is in a very bad shape: glassy-eyed, gasping, blue tongue. The woman is completely freaking out and is still trying to coax the dog out. Somehow she gets the dog out of the car, where it then proceeds to lie on the ground. I scoop the dog up - she's completely limp and non-responsive - and head inside. "Oh! my God!" exclaimed the receptionist. I had the dog to her and she takes her back to put her on oxygen and try to help her. The woman is distraught.
I finish signing Gany in and head to work. And because I'm nigh-empathic, I feel sad for the dog and her owner the whole day. I fear the worse.
The good news of the day is that Gany's blood-sugar levels were between 100 and 200 the whole day, and she hadn't had an insulin injection since the previous midnight. There are reports that this type of insulin can "cure" cats of their diabetes. The vet is cautiously optimistic.
The bad news is that they had to put the dog down. There was just nothing they could do for her. The vet thinks that she had a heart attack.
. . .