Bloodwork

Hudson went in to the vet quickly today to check his white cell count.  They typically monitor the white cell count about a week after chemo to see how the dog reacted.  If the white cells have dropped too low, they know that they need to adjust the next round of chemo.  Hudson passed with flying colors.  Dr. Janson saw a very small dip, so feels that my boy is on the right protocol.

Chemo the 1st

Damn my job!  Due to scheduling issues at the oncologists, I was unable to take Hudson to his first chemo appointment.  They could only get him in on Thursday at 3:45 and I was flying out of Sacramento, CA at the same time.  Fortunately, my wonderful husband and doggy daddy Tony was able to take him.  While I felt like crap and guilty as hell the entire time, I knew he was in good hands.

The downside of having Tony take him to his appointment is that he is a man.  I ask for details about how the appointment went and get responses like “Lot of waiting.”  Here’s an excerpt of our conversation:

K:        How did chemo go?

T:         Fine

K:        Uh…did you have to wait long?

T:         Yeah, like an hour.  They had an emergency.

K:        So you waited an hour and then how long while he had chemo?

T:         45 minutes.

K:        So what did they do?

T:         I dunno.  I was in the waiting room.

K:        Oh.  What’s all this medication?

T:         Instructions are in the bag with the medication.

Hudson showed no ill effects from his chemo.  Typically, dogs are lethargic and tired.  They can have nausea and diarrhea.  The vet gave us medicine to prevent nausea that we were to start the night after chemo.  They also provided medication for the diarrhea, but that was only to be administered if he experience diarrhea.  He didn’t.  We didn’t even see lethargy.  He took it like a champ!

One of the things that Hudson loved about going to the oncologist (and frankly, so did Tony) is that everyone at the oncologists LOVES him.  The moment they walked in the door, the receptionists were calling him.  One of them picked up the phone and called the techs in the back, because everyone wanted to see Hudson.  His surgery tech always comes out to see him, and Dr. Stubbs has come up too.  He always inspects Hudson’s incision, but he told Tony that he comes just because he “loves this dog.”  Tony is always so proud of Hudson and loves showing off his handsome tough guy, and said Hudson is a chick magnet. :)

Two Weeks Ago Today

Today was the first day that the dogs stayed home alone since Hudson's surgery.  They handled it well, though they were ridiculously excited to go outside when I got home.  Hudson's favorite thing during his recovery was laying in the grass in the backyard.  That hasn't changed.

I can hardly believe that two weeks ago today was ampuation day.  Hudson's incision is already greatly improved, as the picture below shows.  He gets around wonderfully, though he tires quickly.  Fifteen minutes of activity requires several hours of rest.  He's gradually building up his endurance.  You can always tell when he's tired, he tries to stand on his no-longer-there-leg and tilts back a little.  That's our sign that it's time for a rest.

 Hudson being frustrated by my excessive picture taking.

 Lexi demonstrates why sticking your nose through wood lattice in search of bunnies is not a good idea.

The Stitches Come Out

Today, we went to get Hudson’s stiches out.  He wore his harness to the vets, as well as his boxers.  His stitches are driving him crazy, so he’s really been trying to lick/chew at them lately.  For some reason, the flimsy material of boxers is enough to make him leave them alone.  He doesn’t try to push the boxers off or stick his nose up the leg hole.  (I kept meaning to sew it shut, but never did it.)

Hudson was taken back to have his sutures removed and I stayed in the waiting room.  The lady next to me struck up a conversation.  She was there with her two labs, both of whom have cancer.  One has fibrosarcoma and has so far undergone SIX surgeries to remove tumors.  His mom had wanted to try to save his leg, so they only took pieces of the leg as they found tumors.  She said at one point, he only had two toes and half of his lower leg.  He was in for a check up to see if his cancer had come back.  Her second dog had osteosarcoma and was in for IV chemo. When I told her that Hudson had only been a tripod for two weeks, she was astonished.  She said neither of her two dogs had recovered as well or as quickly as Hudson appeared to.

Dr. Stubbs brought Hudson back out and told me that the incision looked fabulous.  He was extremely pleased with the way that it was healing, and with Hudson’s progress in general.

Next up is the first chemo treatment on Thursday.

Of Boxers and Skittles

A genius idea occurred to me today in the quest to get Hudson to leave his sutures alone.

I kept trying to think of something that we could put on him to cover his sutures.  A t-shirt would have worked for a front limb amputation, but I was drawing a blank for the rear leg...and then...it hit me.

 BOXER SHORTS!

The elastic helps to keep them around his waist, and his tail goes out the crotch flap.  (I tried to think of a less crass thing to call it, but that's what I've got.  Crotch flap.)  He's been meandering around the house all day in his Harley boxers.  He hasn't tried to take them off, and he has left his sutures alone, so far.  Fingers crossed!

I had to do some work from home stuff tonight, so I settled myself on my air mattress with my laptop and a handful of Skittles.  As if from nowhere, Hudson appeared and intently watched my progress with my Skittles.  Since I'm on the floor already, we're pretty much eye to eye.  I'm pretty strict about what my babies eat, so he didn't really have a prayer in hell...

 But then he kept making this face, and he had his adorable little boxers on...

So he got ONE red Skittle, and was the happiest boy ever.

Mom...mom...mommy....momma...

Hudson is doing pretty good.  His favorite thing to do lately is lay in the grass in the newly landscaped backyard.  I almost dread taking him to potty because it's a guaranteed battle to get him to come back in.

Yesterday, while he was lounging, Porter decided to help me water the brown spots in the sod. 

He's used to drinking off the hose, so this rainwater effect is a little confusing to him. :D

Hudson has still been having really rough nights.  The phantom limb pain always seems to strike about eight, and last all night.  He isn't crying anymore, but he trys to lick his sutures and occassionally bites at them.  I've tried putting the bite not on him, but he just whimpers until I remove it.  The ecollar isn't much better.  His favorite way to get that removed is to get off his bed and just start stumbling around the room.  He manages to hit me in the face with it, (I'm still sleeping on an air mattress in the living room with him,) knock things off the end tables, and bump Lexi and Porter.  He ends up waking the entire household up and annoying us all until I take it off.  After the ecollar has been removed, I swear to God, he's smirking at me. 

The only way to get him to leave his sutures alone is to tuck a sheet around his bottom half.  For the most part, he won't try to pull the sheet off.  The downside of this plan is that Hudson is really restless at night because he is so uncomfortable from the phantom pain.  He gets up and switches beds and positions all night long, dislodging the sheet everytime. Each time, he does, it wakes me up, so I am averaging 5 hours of sleep a night.  He gets to sleep all day, so the impact on him seems pretty minimal. 

Every morning at six, he wakes me up all happy and excited because he wants to go outside.  I'm pretty un-reactive initially but he's a nuisance until I get up.  Kind of reminds me of this Family Guy moment:

Stubborn Boys & Phantom Limb

Be careful what you wish for.  When we were going through the worst part of hell week, I couldn’t wait for the day that Hudson was feeling a little better.  I was anxious for the crying and whimpering to stop, and for my boy’s personality to return.

Over the last few days, Hudson has improved and his personality is back.  I kind of forgot about the whole stubborn part of his personality though.  He wants to do everything by himself, which he isn’t ready for.  I’ve had to block off the stairs, since he seems to think he needs to climb them.  His remaining back leg isn’t strong enough for anything more than the three steps down to our backyard.

Tony and I put his sling on him last night and assisted him up the stairs, thinking that might take care of his desire to climb them.  He struggled all the way up, then took a twenty minute nap at the top of the stairs to recuperate.  Coming down was not fun.  Hudson hasn’t yet learned to redistribute/rebalance his weight for coming down.  It was a nerve wracking experience for all of us, and we had hoped that would curb his interest in stairs.  Not so much.  I stopped him so many times today from going up that I lost count.

It was really nice in Littleton today, weather wise, so we all went and sat on the new deck while I worked on my laptop.  Initially, Hudson laid in the grass and just enjoyed being outside. 

All too soon, though, that wasn’t enough.   I had to get up constantly to stop Hudson from trying to wrestle with Porter in the grass.  I had to stop him from trying to walk on the rocks bordering the lawn.  He can’t yet balance on the uneven terrain, but sure thinks he should try.  Eventually, I made all the dogs come up on the deck and shut the gate to prevent them from returning to the yard.  Then Hudson wanted to lie on the wood.  I brought out his bed, a pet cot, and even just a plain sheet for him to lie on.  He wasn’t having it.  Eventually, we went back inside to save my sanity.

We removed Hudson’s Fentanyl patch last night, per the vet’s instructions.  His personality came back in spades, but unfortunately, he seems to have gained phantom limb pains as well.  I don’t know if the Fentanyl was blocking these sensations before, or if it was just coincidence that they began the day after the patch came off. 

Since phantom limb pain is a psychological problem, pain meds can’t help.  I did a little research on the issue to not only better understand what he was experiencing, but also to find ways to perhaps help him deal with it.  What I discovered is that about 80% of human amputees report having pain and sensations in their missing limb.  Sensations are often described as burning, aching, tingling, or feeling the missing limb is “crushed” or somehow sitting at an uncomfortable position. There are many theories as to why this occurs, but the bottom line is the pain is real. The most current theory is that the brain has an idea of what the body looks like, a “map” that it refers to. After amputation, the map in the brain is still a whole body, as it takes time for the brain to re-map to the new body configuration. Because the brain is expecting input from the missing limb and not getting any, it sends sort of a panic signal that is interpreted as pain.

I found several things we can try, but most of them require waiting until the incision is healed.

• Gentle massage
• Wrap the stump in a soft, warm fabric (like a towel)
• Warm soaks or heating pads
• Mild exercise – just to increase circulation
• Wrap in a snug, but not confining bandage

Even though Hudson’s incision has another week before the sutures are removed, I’ve been gently massaging the muscle above the surgical site in an attempt to help.  Hudson doesn’t seem to mind me doing it, and it really decreases his anxiety.  I’ve also noticed that some of the twitching of the muscle stops almost right away, and completely stops after a few moments.

Dr. Stubbs called this afternoon with the results of the pathology.  Hudson’s tumor was indeed Osteosarcoma.  (There was a perhaps 1% chance that it wouldn’t be, so I was prepared for that answer.)  It isn’t an aggressive strain, but it isn’t one of the easier ones either.  Hudson will be going in for suture removal on Monday, June 20^th and will have his first chemotherapy session then as well.

Emotions

Initially, my intention for writing a blog about Hudson’s progress was simply to keep friends and family informed on what was happening without sending a million emails and texts.  As we’ve been going through this though, I’ve also come to want to write a blog that could help someone else going through this with their dog.  I found a lot of help and support on Tripawds.com and I really appreciate it.  I’ve read through many of the blogs there, and it provided hope and inspiration in a really dark time for both Tony and I.  I was reading some of these blogs today, and it struck me that I never have really written about how I felt when Hudson was diagnosed or how I reacted.  I kept my first post, The Beginning, very clinical and tried to take the emotion out.  I now feel that I may have done a disservice to anyone going through this same ordeal who might read this blog.

I was devastated at the vet, when they told me Hudson had cancer.  I kept it together while Dr. Stubbs was in the room.  My eyes were dry and I was very calm.  I asked questions about Hudson’s chances, his suitability as a surgical candidate for amputation, and chemo treatment options.  Unlike a lot of pet parents that have been hit with the osteosarcoma diagnosis, I never questioned amputation.  As the CFO for Big Dogs Huge Paws, Inc., I’ve seen tripawds come through who live a happy, fulfilled life.  It didn’t even occur to me how much of a struggle it was for a lot of pet parents to make that decision, because they didn’t have the same frame of reference that I did.  Dr. Stubbs hadn’t even told me what our options were for osteosarcoma treatment before I was asking how quickly we could amputate.  It was an easy decision for me.  When they took Hudson away to do chest x-rays, I texted Tony, my friend Marie, and my brother about Hudson’s diagnosis.  Each time I typed the words cancer and amputation, my eyes filled with tears.  I got myself back under control by the time Dr. Stubbs and Hudson returned and made arrangements for surgery.

I took Hudson home and returned to work.  My boss, Brian, suggested I go home early, but I didn’t want to.  I knew I’d just sit there and worry, driving myself crazy.  I couldn’t talk to Tony about the whole thing without tearing up and losing the ability to speak.  We decided to wait until we got home that night to talk about it.

Once we started talking, I realized that Tony and I were not on the same page.  He had a lot of reservations about amputating Hudson’s leg and putting him through chemo.  I had been worried all day that the cost would be a large sticking point.  To my everlasting gratitude, that wasn’t it at all.  Tony’s concerns centered entirely around making sure that Hudson had quality of life.  He wanted to make sure I wasn’t trying to hang on to him, inadvertently causing his suffering to ease my fear of letting him go.  I remember him saying “It isn’t the money.  I don’t care about the money.  I’d fight this with every penny we have for any of our dogs, including Lexi.  But we need to be sure it’s the right choice for them.  We need to make sure we’re not letting them suffer so we can hold on.”

Once we discussed how quickly dogs bounce back from amputation, and the fact that Hudson would be in less pain the day after he went through amputation then he was the day before, the decision was made.  Bone Cancer is THE most painful condition that a dog can experience.  Dr. Stubbs compared it to having your bones slowly explode from the inside and having to walk on them.  If we hadn’t amputated and chosen instead to just manage the pain for whatever time Hudson had left, he would have had 6-8 more months, and he would have been in pain the entire time.

Our next sticking place was the chemo.  Tony felt it wasn’t fair to put Hudson through amputation, and then just as he was recovering from that, start chemo.  Everyone is aware that chemo is excruciating for people that go through it.  They lose their hair and get extremely sick, experiencing nausea, vomiting and diarrhea.  Tony didn’t want  to buy six good months with six bad months.  While I knew that chemo isn’t as aggressive with dogs and that the side effects were much more mild, I didn’t have all the details of what it would be like.  Oddly, searching the internet didn’t help.  I continued to find the same refrain.  “Dogs react much better to chemo than people.  Few of the unpleasant side effects are noticeable.”  What the hell does that mean? What are the side effects?  Just because it’s not noticeable, doesn’t mean my dog isn’t suffering!  I needed details.  That’s when we set up a phone consult with Dr. Janson and got our answers.

Hudson was diagnosed on Thursday and went through amputation the following Tuesday.  During this time, I told virtually no one.  I didn’t want to talk about it, I didn’t want people to feel sorry for me or him, and I didn’t want anyone’s opinion on what we should do.  That was something we had to work out for ourselves.    Why didn’t I question the vet more when he diagnosed a sprain?  Why didn’t I insist on x-rays when he said Hudson’s spondylosis was advancing?  Why didn’t I ask for x-rays of the long bones when they did his knee?  I was aware that all this regret was useless, but I couldn’t (and still can’t, to some degree) stop feeling it.

The morning after Hudson’s cancer diagnosis, as I drove to work, I started crying and I couldn’t stop.  I got to work and wore my sunglasses for a half hour after I got there because I couldn’t get myself under control.  As I drove home that night, I started crying again.  I remember literally screaming as loud as I could as I drove down the street to try to find a release for all the emotion.  Marie told me that I should go home that weekend and have my arguments with my god.  That made me laugh at the time, but I fully understood what she meant.

I don’t blame any higher power for Hudson getting sick.  What is meant to be will be.  What I struggled with, was how to handle my emotions toward it.  Tony has always been a fairly stoic guy, with the exception of his temper.  He doesn’t show his pain often, and as a result, I tend to hide mine from him.  It’s not his fault, he’s never shown any kind of disgust when I cry.  The opposite in fact.  I just feel weak when I cry in front of anyone.  As a result, I mostly kept my tears to myself.  I cried myself to sleep every single night between Thursday and Tuesday.  I did so silently, because I didn’t want to upset Hudson, Tony or any of the dogs.  I never saw Tony grieve at all, and that worries me.  I know he needs to.

Tony has been really awesome and supportive throughout this whole ordeal.  He has never once balked at the cost of treatment, or questioned the necessity.  He’s been an advocate for Hudson’s quality of life and I couldn’t ask for a better partner to go through this with.  He’s absolutely dedicated to helping Hudson recover.  He’s gone shopping with me for flooring options to cover the slippery wood floors, and helped me pick out harnesses that will allow us to assist Hudson with obstacles he may encounter.  I read this post to him after I had written it, and we both had tears in our eyes.

My Boy is Back!

Hudson just, for the first time since his surgery, sought me out for attention.  He buried his head in my lap (a typical Dane move.)  Tony came to watch, since it's the first sign we've had that our Hudson was returning.  H left me and went to Tony and leaned on him.  Our first lean since surgery!  My affectionate little mama's boy is back!

It was really hard for me after Hudson's surgery, when he would turn away from us when we offered affection.  We both realize that he was on drugs and we can only guess what he may have been thinking, feeling and seeing.  We know his reaction wasn't really him, so much as the drugs, but it was still really hard.

I have joyful tears on my cheeks right now, since he's sitting next to me on the couch nuzzling his head between my back and the couch.  Normally I hate that. :D

The Best Bridge Between Despair and Hope is a Good Night's Sleep. ~E. Joseph Cossman

Hudson slept through the night with no issues and I got eight hours of blessed sleep.  The dogs woke me at 8:30 to go outside.  Hudson got off the couch on his own, walked outside, down the deck steps and into the grass with no assistance.  He went potty and then did some short sprints in the grass.  He did attempt to walk in the rocks at the back of the yard, but quickly decided he wasn’t yet ready for uneven terrain and returned to the house.  I fed the hounds and we all went back to sleep. 

We next got up at 12.  I ate leftover pizza (Yay! Pizza for breakfast!) and took Dakota home to my parents.  They kept me chatting, as usual, so I didn’t get back home until 2.  I lay down on the air mattress next to Hudson for just a moment, and woke up four hours later.  Tony had joined us sometime during that four hours and we all had slept.  Clearly, the Mendralla household was in need of sleep after Hell Week.

We all went outside for a bit and hung out on the deck in the sun.  Hudson meandered around the yard, which really seemed to tire him out, since he’s been asleep on the couch ever since we came back in. 

Having Dakota gone has really decreased my anxiety level.  It’s kind of silly, since she was the easiest dog to deal with.  For the most part, she stayed hidden in a corner behind the couch trying to avoid my dogs.  She wasn’t a pain, like Lexi, or needy, like Porter.  Maybe it’s just that the pressure to make sure all four dogs have eaten, pottied, had water, and all have a nice soft place to sleep is over.

My dogs are snots, and tend to fight over beds.  We had three beds for a long time, and they would still fight over one particular bed.  We ended up buying another of the favorite bed and now have four dog beds.  As any long time pet owner can tell you, always have one more of a hot commodity than you have dogs.  If the dogs get Zuke’s bones, I always buy four instead of three.  Someone (typically Lexi) will steal someone else’s (typically Porter's) bone.  She’ll leave hers on the floor unattended, but if anyone approaches it, she gets attitude.  It’s easier just to give Porter another bone and take away her old one.  Stupid, but easier.  Same with the beds.  When Dakota was here, the dogs equaled the beds.  Someone was always hacked about who had what bed and many times, Lexi would stretch herself uncomfortably across two beds, just to block someone else from sleeping there.  I got tired of refereeing that, which reminds me....

Hudson is definitely starting to feel better.  He will only eat about a cup and a half of food at a time and it takes *forever* but he's eating.  Lexi decided he was done and that she should finish for him today.  She pushed her way past him and started to eat his food.  Rather than passively allowing her to, as I half expected, Hudson started a brawl.  He had her on her back and cowering in short order.  I was so proud.

Lexi's Cheesy Salsa Mini Meatloaves

For those who requested it:

Cheesy Salsa Mini Meatloaves

Prep:     10 Min
Total:     38 min

Makes 6 servings

Ingredients:

1 lb. ground beef
½ cup finely chopped onions
1 egg
12 Saltine Crackers finely crushed (approx. ½ cup)
1 ½ cups Mexican style shredded cheese, divided
1 cup salsa, divided

Heat oven to 400 degrees

Mix first four ingredients with 1 cup cheese and ½ cup salsa.

Press evenly into 12 muffin cups sprayed with cooking spray.  Use back of spoon to make indentation in center of each.  Place muffin pan on foil-covered baking sheet.

Bake 20 to 25 min. or until meatloaves are done (160 degrees internally.)  Top with remaining salsa and cheese; bake 3 min.  or until cheese is melted.

Turning the Corner

Day four started out very similar to day three.  I was able to get six hours of sleep the night before, which was heavenly.  I had committed to helping out at the monthly Big Dogs Huge Paws dog food pickup, so Tony stayed home with the dogs.  Hudson was not pleased with this decision.  He is a huge mama’s boy and was distressed that I was leaving without his permission.  I felt very bad for Tony, but was delighted for myself.  I was so looking forward to a few hours out of the house.

Dog Food pick up went great.  Lisa, one of my fellow officers at BDHPI and a very sweet person, brought Hudson a bag of Puppy Crack.  (We’ve since discovered it’s one of the few things that will tempt him to eat.)   After dog food, my friend Darlene and I went for breakfast at Pete’s University Park Café before heading to Marie’s house to see Izzy.

Izzy was one of Big Dogs Huge Paws foster dogs in 2009.  She was an older (estimated 5-9  years old) black female Great Dane with cropped ears.  If you know anything about dog rescue, you might be familiar with Black Dog Syndrome.  Statistically, black dogs are much more difficult to adopt than any other color.  Some believe that this is because lighting is poor in shelters and doesn’t allow adopting families to see as much expression on the dogs faces.  In cases like ours, where we don’t have a shelter, the theory is that photographs don’t capture the expression on darker colored faces as well as lighter.  Regardless, it’s difficult to find an adopter for a black dog, harder to find an adopter for a black female.  To top it off, Izzy had cropped ears and was a medical train wreck.  She came in with ticks, demodex mange, and was skin and bones.  Marie was her foster mom.  She was in rescue for almost four months and was lovingly cared for by Marie the entire time.  The Silverstein’s had to have their house bug bombed twice due to all the parasites Izzy brought in with her and it took a long time for her fur to finally grow back.  Luckily, a very nice couple fell in love with Izzy and adopted her, providing a loving home and a Great Dane brother to play with.

Fast forward two years, and after everything Izzy had been through, she was diagnosed with Osteosarcoma in her left rear leg.  (The same leg as Hudson.)  She went in for amputation on 5-18-11 at VRCC in Denver.  Her surgery went beautifully and this tough old lady sailed through with no complications.  She was quickly up and about as though nothing had happened.   Izzy has already been through her first round of chemo and showed no ill effects.  Izzy’s parents had a family obligation that they needed to attend and asked her former foster mom, Marie, if she’d be willing to watch her for the weekend while they were gone.  Marie agreed, of course, and then invited me to come see Izzy and her progress.

Izzy is three weeks ahead of Hudson in her journey through Osteosarcoma.  It was very inspirational to see this old lady kicking butts and taking names.  She was bouncing around the house without a problem.  She easily climbed down five steps to the backyard, did her business, and bounced right back up them.  She was able to climb onto and off of the couch with ease.  Her suture site was completely healed and she looked great!  Going from day three (one of the worst days of my life) to seeing how Hudson will be in just a few short weeks gave me a lot of hope.  It’s easy to tell yourself that he’ll be fine in just a little while, much harder to believe it.  Izzy showed me what Hudson’s future could be.

When I got home, it was like Hudson had turned a corner.  I don’t know if it was because I had hope, or because he was really progressing, but the whimpering and crying seemed to have dropped off, and Hudson wanted to get up and move around.  He and I practiced walking to the mailbox and back twice, then rested for twenty minutes.  I had to go out and clean up the back yard, so I took him with me.  He hadn’t seen it since the sod had been completed and he loved it.  He laid down in the grass and rubbed his muzzle against it, before he sprawled himself full length.  He stayed in that position the entire time we were out there, just soaking in the fresh air and sunlight.

**Video Warning** Turn down the volume.  I'm talking in dog voice which I just discovered, thanks to this video, is obnoxious. J

Tony had plans that night with his friend, Alex, who had recently gotten out of the hospital.  The puppies and I decided we were too tired to make something to eat and ordered a pizza.  Shortly before it arrived, Hudson passed out on the couch. The pizza guy didn’t even wake him, so clearly his busy day had exhausted him.  He did wake up when I started eating, of course, and was rewarded for his good behavior with a piece of ham off my pizza.  He ate his one piece and went back to sleep, while I stretched out on the other couch and watched Netflix movies on my laptop for the rest of the night.

Lessons Learned

Day three after amputation was awful.  Hudson became more alert as his pain meds began to taper off.  The whining increased in volume and he couldn’t seem to get comfortable.  He wanted to lay on the air mattress…no, the orthopedic memory foam pillow…no, the couch…no, the six foot cushion…wait, the air mattress…and so on.  Back and forth all day.  He’s still on restricted activity, so I had to lift him onto and off the couch, as well as grab his sling and help him get to his next location.  He also wanted to go outside constantly.  He didn’t need to go potty; in fact he only went once all day.  He just wanted to stand on the deck and smell the fresh air.  Hudson tires quickly though, and would want to lie down.  I didn’t want him lying on the deck, I was worried dirt might get into his sutures, so I drug out his pet cot and memory foam pillow.  He sunned himself for a short time on his bed, before I drug him into the shade.  (I was concerned that he might get sunburned where he was shaved for surgery.)

 I sat at the outdoor table and got some work done, while Hudson snoozed and my other babies laid in the sun.  We had a nice 20 minutes of quiet before Hudson felt the need to lick his stitches.  He’s typically responsive to the command “Hudson, no lick,” but alas, not today.  As soon as I put the cone of shame on him, he wanted to go back inside.

There, we continued our wonderful game of up, down, in, out.  In addition to the frustration of not being able to get Hudson settled, I couldn’t leave the room without him trying to follow.  We have two bathrooms, both reached by a set of stairs.  I literally could not go to the bathroom without Hudson trying to follow me.  He fell on the stairs on his first attempt while I was in the bathroom.  I rushed out and inspected the sutures, but there didn’t appear to be any damage.  Clearly, using the bathroom wasn’t to be.  I had to wait until Tony came home at lunch.  I now feel sorry for all the times I was at work and thought to myself “The dogs can wait another hour for me to come home and let them out.  I just need to finish this.”  Having been on the waiting end, it sucks.

Hudson fell a second time on a portion of the wood floor.  I went into the garage to grab a diet Pepsi out of our garage fridge.  I figured since it would only take a second, it’d be fine.  I figured wrong.  Hudson got up and made it all the way to the garage door where his rear foot slipped and he went down.  I had the door propped open, so I watched, unable to help, as he fell.  He let out a loud yelp, and I was sure he’d torn a few stiches.  Luckily, that wasn’t the case, but I learned my lesson.  I must stay in Hudson’s line of vision.

I can't explain in words the sheer mental and physical exhaustion I was feeling.  The whining and whimpering continued through out the day, and I couldn't escape it.  I knew that wasn't Hudson's fault, but I was getting so irritated that I almost yelled at him to stop.  There was many a time when I lay next to him on the mattress nose to nose and begged him to please stop.  I knew it wasn't logical as I was doing it, but I just couldn't take it anymore.  I couldn't leave the room, so the only outlet I had was standing in a corner of kitchen, facing away from the dogs, humming loudly with my eyes shut.  I felt like screaming, but that would only upset my pack.  After a few minutes, I had calmed down enough to return to laying on the air mattress.

One thing I've been learning over the last few days is to take naps as they come.  I got 2-3 hours of sleep during night one, and four during night two.  During the day, Hudson seems to whimper and cry in intervals.  An hour of crying, thirty minutes of silence, then another hour of crying.  I've learned to work during his crying and settle down for a nap in the silence.  When the whimpering begins again, it's back to work.  Obviously, this makes my work hours somewhat erratic, but I make sure everything gets done by starting early (Hudson gets me up between 4 and 6) and working late. 

Tony typically gets home at 5, so we have started to follow a pattern.  I go to the bathroom the moment he arrives while he keeps Hudson company.  He then sits on the deck with a beer to decompress for 20 minutes, after which he comes inside and makes himself something to eat.  All the while, I'm working on my laptop.  Once he's done with dinner, I sign off and he sits with the dogs while I take a shower.  (Ahhh…I love showering.  I honestly believe you could call showering a hobby of mine. J) 

Tonight I came upstairs after taking a shower to find that Tony had fallen asleep with Hudson on the air mattress.  Awhhhh.

We switched off sitting with the dogs the rest of the night, so each of us had some time to ourselves.  This may sound silly, but after only two days staying home with Hudson, a half an hour to myself with no dogs felt wonderful

Working from Home with Hudson

Hudson continued to whine throughout the day.  I gave him a massage every couple of hours.  I’m sure his muscles start to ache from always lying in the same position to avoid putting pressure on his sutures.  Hudson insisted that he needed to be touching me at all times.  I ended up spending most of the day working on my laptop lying next to him on the air mattress, or sitting next to him on the floor.  The kind of funny thing is that while he wanted to be touching me, he didn’t want attention.  If I tried to cuddle or pet him, he’d turn away.  I think he wanted the comfort of knowing I was nearby, but didn’t have the patience to actually put up with me. J

I was able to get him to eat about a ½ cup of food in the morning, but that was all.  (To put that in perspective, he usually eats 2 ½ cups twice per day.)  He was also uninterested in his Pill Pockets, so I ended up having to open his mouth and put them in the back of his throat.  If you want to feel bad about yourself for a while, try force feeding an amputee his pills.  I was given reproachful looks from his big brown eyes for the next twenty minutes.

I’ve had a few people ask me how his brother and sister are handling this whole mess.  Porter is going quietly crazy.  Each time Hudson crys, Porter gets wound up and stresses.  He doesn’t know how to react when his alpha is in pain.  He’s so anxious that simple directions are flustering him.  I asked him to “go pillow” (lay on his pet cot with an orthopedic pillow on it.)  He kept turning in one direction, and then the other as though he had no idea what to do.  Porter is also insisting that he needs to be touching me, so he can frequently be found on the floor next to the air mattress, nuzzling my foot or leg.

Lexi, meanwhile, is another story altogether.  Initially, I would have said that she didn’t care one way or the other.  She doesn’t seem too concerned about his whines and isn’t terribly interested in what he’s doing.  She cuddled him for a short time this afternoon, but I got the impression that it was more of a bid for my attention, then any genuine desire to cuddle him.  This evening was the turning point.  Lexi began getting into trouble and acting out for attention.  She’s a pain in the butt at the best of times, but there are some bad habits that we’ve broken her of.  They are suddenly back.  She pulled a book off the shelf and started shredding the pages.  She started climbing on furniture again.  (Bassets can climb like you would not believe.  Those little t-rex arms don’t limit them at all, thanks to their devious little minds.)  For dinner, I was making Cheesy Salsa Mini Meatloaves.  In essence, it’s meatloaf baked in cupcake pans.  It’s delicious.  Hudson started whining in the way that signals that he needs to go outside, so I pushed the pan to the back of the stove and took him out.  Upon our return, we found that Lexi had managed to push a chair over to the counter, climb up on it, then onto the counter, then walked over to the top of the stove and ate half of the meatloaves.  That’s about a ½ lb of hamburger, a cup of salsa, a cup of cheese and half a raw egg.  So…I had cereal for dinner and Tony got a couple of the untouched meatloaves.

Dakota, my 12 year old Aussie Shepherd/Blue Heeler mix is also staying with us.  It was an unfortunate coincidence that my parents were going out of town just as Hudson was being diagnosed.  Dakota is incredibly timid and has absolutely no interest in being around my dogs.  That carried through to Hudson’s arrival home.  She avoids him like the plague, except when I’m tempting him to eat.  She arrives to beg, then disappears when we’re done.  When startled, she's like a deer on ice.  Unfortunately, it's far too easy to startle her.  Walking in her direction is enough to cause the panic.  She's tries to move, and all her legs are going, but seem to be going in different directions, so she gets nowhere.  Trying to maneuver a temporarily disabled Dane through the kitchen when she has one of her freak outs is not easy.  I feel awful for her.  I can't imagine a life of fear like she has.

One of the hardest parts of this whole experience is that we just finished landscaping the backyard.  They finished laying the sod on Monday, so we can’t walk on it for four weeks.  Dakota and Lexi are fine with pottying in the front yard, but Hudson and Porter can’t seem to figure out that it’s okay.  Porter has to be taken for 20 minute walks before he’ll go, and even then, it seems to be luck of the draw.  Hudson will only go in a particular spot in the backyard….that was just sodded.  Hudson can’t be walked for twenty minutes, so that’s not an option.  I took him out to the front yard to potty six times today.  He didn’t go once.  I took him to his spot in the backyard once and he went forever.  (Then I had to turn the hose on and drown the spot in hopes that it wouldn’t kill the sod.)

The First Night

I'm not going to lie, the first night was rough.

We brought Hudson's bed down from our bedroom to the main level.  His bed is a really nice, comfortable cushion from a sectional couch.  My friends, Darlene and Rob, gave it to him and he loves it.  It's about seven feet long and three feet wide.  Hudson snoozed most of the evening once he came home, with occasional whines.  I set up an air mattress next to his bed so that I could stay with him in case he needed to go out or get up.

Hudson whined and cried all night.  He kept getting up (at least six times) and would stand there swaying back and forth.  I had to get up as well and hang on to him to make sure he wouldn't fall.  I eventually determined that he wanted to sleep on the air mattress with me.  Air mattresses are very instable when stepped on, so they are not the best thing for a recent amputee to try to maneuver on.  I wasn't a big fan of the idea, but it became clear that Hudson was determined to sleep on the air mattress. 

Between the sling and his determination, we got him settled.  He still whined through out the night, but the length and volume were decreased.  He just wanted to cuddle with his mom.  :)  I was able to get about an hour of sleep after he moved to the air mattress before I had to get up for work.  I would estimate that over all I got maybe 2-3 hours of sleep, grabbed in 15-20 minute snatches.

Hudson and His Dad have a Moment

I <3 these boys

Hudson is Home!

We picked Hudson up tonight at 5:30.  He walked out of the hospital under his own steam, though we held on to his sling just in case.  Hudson, being Hudson, did drag us off to meet a fellow patient at the hospital.  Even less than 24 hrs out from surgery, Hudson has to sniff other dog's butts.

He needs to wear the ecollar when he's left unattended, but we'll keep it off when one of us is with him.  Dr. Stubbs and all his surgical techs were very pleased with Hudson's progress.  He does very well so far on just one back leg.  They hadn't expected him to do so well, since giant breeds tend to have a harder time with amputation.  From the comments I've seen in the tripawds forums, Danes seem to do really well overall.  Saint Bernards seem to have a tough time.

I was surprised on seeing Hudson how much of what I thought was his leg was actually hip.  He appears to have a "stub" in the pictures, but his entire leg was removed, leaving behind only hip bone and muscle.  The surgical scar photos are not particularly gruesome, but if you'd prefer not to see, stop now.

************SURGICAL SITE PHOTOS POSTED BELOW. STOP SCROLLING IF YOU WOULD PREFER NOT TO SEE*****************

Preparing for a Tripawd

After reviewing www.tripawds.com, it became apparent that there was any number of things that needed to be done to prepare for Hudson’s return home in his altered state.

First, we bought a sling.  (We actually bought this after his “ACL” was diagnosed, we would have needed it after ACL surgery anyway.)  We forced both Hudson and Porter to be practiced on, which as you can imagine, did not go over well.  (This picture is of Dr. Winton, the medical director of Big Dogs Huge Paws Inc, and one of our foster dogs, Lola.  Lola has since been adopted and lives in Leadville.)

Next, we bought a harness.  Everyone at Tripawds said that the harness had helped them a lot when their dog first came home.  We are a little unsure how a front harness is going to help us with a rear leg amputee, but everyone swears by it.  Besides, most of Hudson’s weight is in his barrel chest anyway.  The Ruff Wear Web Master harness is modeled here by Porter.

The next item to tackle was our flooring.  The majority of our house is carpet, a fact I have bemoaned for years.  Only our main floor is wood.  It turns out that this is actually fortunate, as a three legged dog is much more prone to slipping on wood, tile or laminate.  During Hudson’s recovery, we are going to keep him on the main level so he can avoid climbing stairs unnecessarily.  To prevent him from slipping, we bought a couple of packs of foam flooring from Sam’s Club.  They snap together to stay in place, and we added a rug pad to make sure the foam wouldn’t slide.  It took us approximately 10 minutes to put this together.  Our lovely model Lexi provides frame of reference for how large the area is.  This isn’t quite a full two packs.  We put the extras on the tile floors in the bathrooms.  The rest of the main level has rugs already interspersed throughout, so we focused the tiles only where there were large stretches of uncovered wood floor.

 

Porter Misses his brother

As anyone that has met Porter can attest to, he is a leaner.  Physically, he leans on any person he meets, even children too small to support his weight.  (Ask Brayden, our two year old neighbor.)

Mentally and emotionally, Porter leans on Hudson.  He needs Hudson to show him what to do and that everything is okay.  When Hudson is gone, Porter is absolutely lost.  Since we dropped Hudson off at the hospital yesterday, Porter has been spiraling into despair.  Every time we open a door to go outside, Porter dashes out, looking for Hudson. He lays next to Hudson's pillow and sniffs it, before resting only his head on it.  Porter is so full of energy that we can't get him to lay down for more than 15 minutes on a normal night.  He spent the majority of last night laying quietly on the couch.

We originally adopted Porter from Rocky Mountain Great Dane Rescue, as we did Hudson.  Porter was found wandering as a stray and not much is know about his history.  He was found by a family that lived in the hills surrounding Grand Junction.  They were out soaking in their hot tub and suddenly a big Great Dane showed up on their patio and started eating their dog's food.  Porter has always been very food motivated.  He wolfs down his food the instant you feed him, barely even chewing.  We've bought special dog food bowls that are supposed to force your dog to slow down.  He'll dump it out so that he can get his food eaten faster.  He will eat anything and never leaves a crumb behind.  This is indicative that at some point (most certainly while he was a stray) he didn't have access to food on a regular basis.  While Hudson has been gone, Porter will not eat.  That is by far the most glaring sign that he misses his brother.

D Day - The Visit

Hudson was taken into surgery at 4:15 pm.  Dr. Stubbs called at 7:15 to say that he had made it through the surgery with flying colors.  There were no complications and everything went really well.  The next step is to send the leg in for biopsy to determine what kind of bone cancer specifically that Hudson has, so that we can choose the best course of chemo to treat him.  We should have the pathology results on Monday the 13th.

Dr. Stubbs said that it would be fine for us to come and see Hudson during visiting hours (7-9) but that we should shoot for approximately 8:30, since Hudson was still waking up and coming out of the anesthesia. 

Tony and I arrived right at 8:30, but didn't get to go back and see Hudson until 8:45 due to an emergency that had arrived moments before us.  We were walked back into the treatment part of the hospital where the overnight cases are kept.  Hudson was in the lone "big cage" which is approximately three of the smaller cages.  The tech said it's mostly used for storage due to the size.  It was just the right length for Hudson.  :)

He was wrapped up in lots of blankets and towels and completely out of it.  His eyes were having trouble focusing and his tongue was still hanging out of his mouth from the surgery.  (When dogs are anesthetized, their tongues are secured outside of their mouths to ensure that it doesn't obstruct the airway.)  It was pretty obvious that he was confused and disoriented, but he perked up when he heard our voices.  He was still very cold from the surgery, which is common, so we did not remove the blankets to view the surgical site.  I can't say I'm disappointed to have missed it.  Tomorrow is soon enough to face reality.  Everyone says to desensitize yourself to the surgical site by viewing pictures before you face your dog in the same situation.  I've seen enough pictures that I know what's coming, but I got to pretend for an extra night that everything was the same.

Provided Hudson continues to improve, he should get to come home tomorrow night.  I'm planning to stop by for another visit tomorrow afternoon between 3-5, before he's discharged at 6.