1.5kg

Okay. So I exaggerated (or I'm really bad with weights). The tumour was not 4, but 1.5kg. The nurse confirmed that when I visited Ricky earlier. Still, 1.5 is HUGE, considering Ricky is prob just 9kg.

Ricky seems okay. Obviously still in pain, but otherwise okay. :)

I was just telling my colleague how fortunate it was that money wasn't a consideration or deterring factor when it came down to making the call for the surgery. They say health is wealth. I say wealth is health. Mostly.

3pm (Part II)

Mum and I returned to the clinic at around 2 plus and we stayed with Ricky, who was on drip and lying motionless on the exam table until it was 3pm. We said bye bye, without meaning it literally and watched him being carried away by the nurses. His eyes were wide open and staring at us before the door shut on us...

For the next 2 hours, mum and I sat idly in the clinic, reading, talking and just wishing for the time to pass quickly. Finally, at around 5:15pm, a nurse came to inform us that the surgery was coming to an end, it was going well and they were preparing to stitch up my boy. :) We were asked to head off for dinner and come back at 6:30pm to see Ricky.

When Mum and I hit Orchard Road (the clinic is just along Stevens Road), she said we should have done this 2.5 hours ago and not stayed foolishly at the clinic. How could we have done that? What if something unfortunate happened midway into the surgery and we were too far away to get to him in time? Regardless, it was with much relief and quiet joy as we took our dinner.

We finally got to see Ricky at 7:00pm. His first greeting was to attempt to snap our hands off. "He's in a lot of pain," the nurse offered an explanation hurriedly but really, I took it as a sign of his usual crappy affection. :) But the poor baby was in a very weak state. He was shivering and whining softly from the pain and it was obvious why. The incision was easily 20cm and I couldn't begin to count the number of stitches at the incision site.


This large mass, which easily weighed 3-4 kg, was extracted from Ricky in the 2.5 hours surgery. It is basically of fatty tissues that grew and grew and literally sucked the life out of my Ricky.

Yes, we could have had it removed 2 years ago. But we had chosen what we believed to be "quality of life" over "quantity of life" for him and opted not to put him through the pain of surgery and instead, let him live his life as best as possible, as indulgently as we could.

Today, faced with the options of life and death, we chose life.

:)

A few more days in hospital and Ricky should be ready to come home.

3pm

Last night was an especially bad night for Ricky. Since after dinner, he hasn't been able to get up on his legs and spent much of his time whining. Mum and I took turns to soothe him and there was finally peace in the household in the early morning between 5-6am. At 6 plus, we awoke to his crying and found him lying in his own pee...

I had internally made a decision that the day Ricky is unable to get up on his own would be the day we bring him back to the vet to put him to sleep. But on the way to the vet today, Ricky, whilst distressed, was still alert and fighting. He would bite my fingers forcefully and look meaningfully at us with his big black eyes. On the exam table, before the vet came in, he came putting his paw over my hand.

I don't think he's ready to go.

When the vet presented the option of a surgery to remove the lump, with the advice that we have reached a point of no other viable options and that this is the best thing to do, we readily accepted this last chance of hope. A quick call to my brother confirmed the decision and to have the surgery today. Questions ran through my mind. Would he be able to survive? What if he passes on at the surgical table and I don't get to say goodbye? Will he be able to recover after the surgery? What if there are complications? Will removing the lump help him to get on his feet again? But these were non-questions, because I had already prepared myself for the worst in any case.

So now Ricky is at the vet, on drip. My mum and I will be returning back to the vet at 2 plus because his surgery will start at 3pm.

Pray for us.

A Sign?

I've been following a particular blogger for a while and recently, her cat passed away. The dilemma she faced is exactly what I'm experiencing right now. Should I take the tough decision?

http://mypolaroidblog.blogspot.com/2010/02/that-big-litter-box-in-sky.html

Still...

Still eating.

Still sleeping.

Still drinking.

Still walking.

Still whining.

Still loving.

Still peeing.

Still pooping.

Still cranky.

Still alive.

:)

Baby was half-asleep when I went over to disturb him (by disturb I mean stroking his leg with my fingers). He awoke with a startle and immediately bit my thumb and refused to let go. Instead of being pissed off with the pain and his lousy attitude, I laughed. The SOB (pun totally intended) has still got that mean fighting spirit. :)

Each day...

...of living is a blessing to me, but to my mum, each day is a suffering for Ricky (and her).

Her talk of "taking him away" and "giving him an injection" is depressing, frustrating and nerve-grating.

===

he's not been well. he lets loose his bowels at different spots of the house. he barely eats. he staggers along. he whines. he no longer barks. and he seldom wags his tail.

but. he is still breathing. his bowels are functioning. he eats. he drinks. he can still walk. he still wags his tail when i brushes his coat.

and that to me, is a blessing everyday.

As death approaches

In a moment of morbidness, I googled for "Signs that a dog is dying". He has been showing many of the symptoms including:

1. Slowing down

2. Sleeping more

3. Not wanting to eat much, then not wanting to eat at all

4. Staying in one spot drowsing, not active.

5. As death approaches, extremities get chilly. I noticed he has been shivering/shaking quite a lot

6. Restless spells, confusion, 'seeing things.'

:( I'm scared.

Full-time dogsitter

I took leave for Friday and tomorrow to be at home as my mum wasn't around to take care of Ricky. Not that anyone's interested, but here's how mundane but PACKED my life at home can be:

Friday

AM:

• Feed Ricky (breaking pandan bread into tiny pieces and feeding him piece by piece)
• Clean his poo + pee
• Vacuum floor
• Give Ricky a bath
• Blow dry Ricky and wash his towels
• Mop the floor
• Cook lunch

PM:

• Feed Ricky (pandan bread)
• Read the papers
• Check work email
• Buy winter stuff
• Grocery shopping (more bread and food for Ricky)
• Coffee with fren
• Prep dinner for Ricky (Rice + chicken + canned carrots)
• Water the plants
• Clean poo + pee
• Dinner with fren
• Movie (but first, I went home to feed Ricky PEELED apple slices)

Saturday

AM:

• Feed Ricky (pandan bread)
• Wardrobe spring cleaning
• Pack for trip
• Clean his poo + pee
• Cook lunch

PM:

• Read the papers
• Feed Ricky (bread)
• Run errands (buy boots + dingdingdongdong)
• Prep dinner for Ricky (same old)
• Dinner
• Forgot to water the plants. Dammit.
• Clean poo + pee
• Feed Ricky apple

Sunday

AM:

• Feed Ricky (pandan bread)
• Read the papers
• Guitar lesson
• Run errands
• Buy lunch

PM:

• Feed Ricky (rice + chicken + dow gay)
• Clean poo + pee
• OD on Desperate Housewives Season 2
• Watered the plants (Realised I forgot we have plants OUTSIDE and hence went out. Ricky followed me out and decided to poop at the lift lobby! Shit. I rushed to bag it and as I was cleaning up, Ricky wandered off to the STAIRCASE and decided to take a step down. And because his legs are very, very weak, I watched him tumbled down half a flight of stairs and there was no way I could have rushed over in time. FARK FARK FARK. I ran, my heart thumping too fast and bundled him up and placed him back on his feet. I was in a great state of shock but he seemed fine and followed me back inside. FARK. Sigh. I'm never letting him go near the staircase again )
• Back to Desperate Housewives and Ricky came for sayang and laid with me on big cushion on floor.
• Prep dinner for Ricky
• Clear work email
• Feed Ricky apples
• Sayang him to sleep...

There. My days of being a housewife. And I'm not even doing that much housework but already I'm packed everyday! Taking care of Ricky is a full-time job and I'm sorry I didn't realise how tiring it must have been for my mum...

Ricky has been panting very heavily and rapidly tonight. One minute he's awake, panting and standing aimlessly in the middle of the living room; and the next, he's lying on his mat and panting in exhaustion and rapidly falling asleep.

I am so afraid... that he will go to sleep and never wake up; not giving us a chance to say goodbye.