- Roger Federer, post match interview, Wimbledon Finals 2017.

- Roger Federer, 2008

- Betty White, SNL, 2017

- Hallie's Mummy, 2014

- Roger Federer

- Flapper Choo

"a geriatric hospital"

informal 
decrepit; very old or outdated.
"replacements for a geriatric locomotive fleet" 

Reality bites when I realized that even Frodo is officially in the 'Seniors' club.

I must confess that I was a tad bit upset after doing up this age chart. Even though I do say to my husband quite frequently that the smelly black one will outlive the boys but it's a different thing when it became blatantly clear that Frodo is now officially older (in human years).

I will brazenly and shamelessly admit it, I am a bias mama who practices blatant favouritism. Even the cats rank above Pebbles. So nope, I do not delight in knowing that she will outlive Frodo. And that's the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth.


The 'Cursed' Number 14

Dumbo turned 14 on his made-up birthday of 18th April. Dumbo was adopted on 18th April 2005 at the age of two years old - or so 'Uncle Choo' was told.

Prior to Dumbo's dramatic seizure episode, there was that tale tail about another 14 years old Miniature Schnauzer named Miko - the one that Frodo donated the blood too.



It happened on one of the human's #notalcoholicwednesday evening, 3rd May 2017, when I received a message about a friend's dunno-who-dunno-who needed a blood transfusion. And that dog was Miko. As it turned out, Miko was of positive blood-type so with the help of 'Uncle Nic' and friends, we picked both boys up and made our way down to the vet clinic. Flapper is considered over-the-hill for blood donation but that's okay. Himbo to the rescue.

That was perhaps one of the most dramatic blood donation experience of all. After the IV catheter was place on Frodo's leg and blood was drawn to ensure that he is a healthy donor, we sat at the waiting area to wait. There was a sudden flurry and I heard someone shout, "Do you want to resuscitate?"

I heard another voice shout, "YES!"

We ('Uncle Nic', his friends and I) whispered to one another, "Do you think it's that dog?"

The vet zoomed by followed by a woman in tears. That woman was Miko's owner. I whispered out to the gang, "The chance of survival is.... ". And I shook my head.

After a long while, the vet came out to explain that Miko had a cardiac arrest thus the transfusion will not proceed as planned. Then she asked if Frodo could standby for another dog who needed a transfusion as well.

"I have to work the next two days so I will not be able to bring Frodo back here. Since we are already here, please take the blood if you really need it.", I said to the vet.

She paused for a moment to consider and decided to proceed with the blood collection. I took Frodo in the room and made sure he was nicely sedated before leaving them to do their work. Yes, I'd rather Flapper over Frodo for blood donation just because Flapper can stay still for blood collection without sedation.

While waiting for Frodo, Miko and her owner came out. I was surprised to see Miko. She was looking alert and stable, certainly not like a dog who just had a cardiac arrest and resuscitation.

"How do you expect me to let her go when she looks like this?", Miko's owner said as she pointed at Miko.

I looked at Miko and nodded my head in understanding. I felt for Miko's owner, really. That is one of life's cruelest joke when a pet owner is asked to make that awful decision.

I always tell Flapper, "Please. When it is time for you to go, please just go. Please don't ever let me make THAT decision."

Not knowing what to say and to lighten the situation up a little, I asked her if it was okay for Flapper to 'say hi' to Miko. Uncle went to sniff her then laid quietly next to me.

Miko's owner excused herself and a short while later, she came to bid her adieu. She had decided to bring Miko home.

Goondu was still in the room....

The next day, I received a message from Miko's owner to let me know she had gone to another vet. She had gone back to the other vet, paid the bill for the blood collection and collected Frodo's blood as well.

I raised my eyebrow as I read the message. Collect Frodo's blood? I thought...? Never mind. So they claimed they had reserved the blood for Miko anyway. I just took it that Miko was fated to have Frodo's blood and praise God! Miko pulled through the night.

And so, Miko started her blood transfusion and I prayed for her.

That evening, her owner promptly updated me that Miko's "platelets count are back to normal and red blood count is now at 30 (morning was 17)" - and I quote. That's good, I thought. But I also knew Miko was not out of the red zone yet. I promised to continue to keep Miko in my prayers.

It turned out Miko's owner and I had a common friend! Our common friend went to visit Miko and took this photo for me.

Friday. Miko's owner attempted to call me but I missed her call. I thought something had happened to Miko. You know... in this day and age, one stops receiving phone calls unless it is some kind of emergency. Everything is Whatsapp these days. *guffaw*

Turned out, another dog at that vet clinic needed a blood transfusion too and wanted to use Frodo's blood. You see, the first vet had taken enough blood for three transfusions [for Miko]. So Miko's owner made a courtesy call to ask me if I was okay to let them have Frodo's blood. Of course I had no objection. If it could save another life, why not? And the blood was already there so it was surely a YES from me other than wondering if Miko might need it again.

I told her the decision was all hers as technically, the bag of blood belonged to her so she can decide what she wanted to do with it. Due to what she had just gone through seeking blood donors for Miko, her compassion went right out to the other dog's owner and graciously agreed to let them use Frodo's blood. Praise God, again!

In the meantime, Miko's maintained her platelets count and her red blood cells count has gone up to a healthy range of 37.  BUT Miko has started bruising badly and more tests needed to be done which I will not bore you with the blah-blah details. I just smiled when I saw the photo of Miko. Bruising is not a good sign. I continued to pray for healing and her recovery.

Saturday. Things started to look down for Miko - inflammation around her pancreas, liver and lungs. I did not know what to say to her owner other than to stay strong and assured her that God was watching over Miko.

Sunday, 7th May at around 11:30 pm - I received the sad news that Miko has gone to her forever home pain-free. Very very sad. Miko was a good girl. She made her own decision and spared her owner the agony of watching her grasp her last few breath. A good girl, indeed.

R.I.P. Miko.

You are a brave girl and fought a very good fight.

The next morning, I went in to work still affected by the news about Miko and I felt really sad for the owner. A willing owner who paid a huge price financially to treat Miko. I lamented about schnauzers pre-disposition to Immune-Mediated Hemolytic Anemia (IMHA), splenic tumours and God knows what else. Miko was the third schnauzer I've encountered in a short period of time that passed on.

It left me thinking about smelly very briefly....

And I silently gave thanks to God that Flapper has fully recovered from his aural haematoma and despite his yucky hips, he is still mobile and healthy.

Everyday IS a bonus.

Then I thought to myself, "Eh... Grumpy Old Man (Dumbo) not bad leh! 14 years old and despite of his health problems, he is still looking good!"

I smiled and cheered up, not realising I thought to myself a tad bit too soon.

The number 14 is cursed.


And Dumbo Owes Me 9 Lives

I was awaken by the unfamiliar ringtone of my new phone. In a groggy stupor state, I had problems picking up the call. I panicked a little when I realised the time. Getting phone call from home after midnight does not bode well. I immediately thought of human emergency.

'Grandma' called again and this time we managed to connect on the phone. She started describing what happened to Dumbo and his state at the time of call.

Dumbo had suffered a seizure - which later on I realized, 'Grandma' failed to tell me it was not ONE seizure but definitely TWO. She could not recall if there was a third seizure. Nevertheless, I had to decide what to do.... Should I....

1) Call my trusted advisor at this hour of the night and rush him into clinic? or;
2) Rush him in to a 24 hours vet clinic.

I already had my trusted advisor's number on my phone and I was all ready to press 'CALL'. But I hesitated. Something just held me back from calling her. I later found out that her daughter came down with high fever which kept her up that night so I thanked God for nudging me not to call her.

I thought about it rationally and decided to walk the talk. Dumbo's case is an emergency and it makes perfect sense to bring him in to a 24 hours clinic to stabilise. He needed immediate attention and will require intensive monitoring. 24 hours clinic is guaranteed to have a vet and nurse on overnight duty. Stablising Dumbo was of utmost importance at that point of time and I could always bring him to my trusted advisor in the morning.

So Uncle Choo, Auntie Lian and myself rushed Dumbo in to THAT 24 hours vet clinic-that-shalt-not-be-named. I will not dwell into this unimpressive visit which made me question about hospitalising Dumbo there. But most of all, we were not allowed to stay with Dumbo which disturbed all three of us greatly.

You see, Dumbo makes a horrible in-patient and that we (especially me) know. He will bite the carer if he is in pain or if he does not want to be handled, he can create a ruckus for being confined and in my words, he is an a-hole. I always tell the family in much disdain, "I cannot imagine how to hospitalise this one (Dumbo) when the day comes he needs it. He cannot be hospitalised at clinics.... you guys cannot keep him confined at home....".

In Dumbo's healthy state, he is a dog that I love to hate and hate to love. Not by any fault of his. The family spoils him rotten and perhaps apart from themselves, no one else finds Dumbo's behaviour endearing - especially me - which also taught me a very important in dog's training. If an owner does not see a behaviour as a problem, then there's nothing to train!

Anywoof, Dumbo's blood test came out 'fine' (so we were told) and he seemed pretty stable by then. I asked the vet if she thinks he is stable enough to go home in the meantime and she said yes. And the decision was made that we shall not hospitalise Dumbo there and well, he will hospitalise with ME instead.

And I mumbled those familiar words, "Dumbo owes me nine lives."

There's a love-hate relationship between Dumbo and me. When he's healthy, we do not give a hoot about each other. He will never look for me as he never gets his way with me and with the other 'doting member of family around', he will never come to me either. I could never see eye-to-eye with the family about Dumbo's behaviour so the day I got Flapper, we drew that line about 'Dumbo is your dog, Flapper is mine'.

And that was that.

HOWEVER, without doubt, curly-ears is a very very smart dog. For all our aloof love-hate relationship, I have one use - and perhaps the most important use - to Dumbo. This boy.... will only come look for me when he is sick and that is something the entire family can vouch for. The more sick he is, the more he will stick to me. He will NOT leave my side. That happened quite a few times that it made all of us learn one very simple fact about Dumbo - WHEN HE STICKS BY MY SIDE, IT IS NOT GOOD NEWS.

Dumbo has always been medically-fragile since we adopted him at that tender age of two. Truth be told, it was Dumbo that piqued my interest in dog's medical while Flapper ignited my interest in training. Dumbo.... is one of those dogs that gets hit by whatever medical condition possible and he will slap it to us in a dramatic fashion. He has a penchant for midnight. I call him the very expensive dog. And very fortunately for him, the family is dedicated to his health care. Despite his multiple health issues (we call it "heart attack" for the humans), the family trudges on with the treatments.

At the ripe old age of 14 years old, Dumbo has heart murmur and well, manageable slip-disc problem. And being a Cocker Spaniel, chronic ear problems. He goes for regular health screening (including echo for his heart) and I joked on his last blood test... it took him some 12-13 years to finally get good blood test readings!

There were little signs here and there that Dumbo COULD suffer from seizures one day... but no one can ever predict when it would happen. And it did, most unexpectedly in Dumbo's most expected dramatic fashion - on 9th May 2017 at midnight.

So Mr Grumpy Old Man, like it or don't like it, it is back to you and me.... AGAIN.

I am Dumbo's medical-emergency bitch.

And he owes me nine lives.


The Road To Recovery

On the way back from the clinic, I started thinking about how to set up for his 'hospitalisation'. Fortunately, I have a sizeable cage which I suspected (and hoped) Flapper's bed will fit nicely into. I prayed to God that GOM will not be an a-hole about being confined and he will be stable for the rest of the night morning whatever.

While waiting for the 'grandma' and 'grandpa' to arrive, my husband (who got woken up by the commotion) and I raised Dumbo up in prayer as he rested peacefully. Based on Dumbo's demeanour, it was highly suspicious he had suffered a stroke. Whatever the case was, he still needed care. Intense care. And I prayed that my colleague could to cover my shift so I can stay home to nurse this dramatic old man - which he did when I called him at more humanly hours called 8 am. He kindly agreed to sacrifice his precious off-day to help me out.

Grateful, I am.

Dumbo resting in his 'A' class ward which my husband later joked as Raffles Hospital for dogs. It was very stressful with Dumbo hooked up to fluids as he has an existing heart problem which has its own risk. So it was close monitoring by the hour.... for five nights.

Propping Dumbo up and flipping his resting side to promote blood circulation which was a battle as he tried to bite me every time I attempted to move him.

Morning came and I chased the 'grans' home to have their much-needed rest. My Whatsapp started to go on a rampage of concerned colleagues about Dumbo's condition. I was, more importantly, busy messaging my trusted advisor and sending her videos as she asked me about Dumbo's condition. Dumbo was ridiculously sedated (comatose-like state) throughout the morning up till around mid-afternoon even though no drugs were administered into him. The ever-so-greedy Dumbo Choo did not react to any food smell which got me even more worried. I later found out the reason for his comatose-state which got me fuming at THAT vet. The blood test, as it turned out, wasn't all that fine.

Anywoof, while watching over Dumbo, yet another O.M.G. moment struck me. It was 'Auntie Lian's' birthday! I quickly whipped out my phone and messaged her, "Your dog loves you very very much. Happy Birthday!"

Dumbo's timing is, what can I say, immaculate.

'Auntie Lian' later said, "I will never forget this birthday."

Bitter laughters.

We ended up celebrating 'Auntie Lian's' birthday with a pizza party on the 10th of May instead. Everyone was hoping that Dumbo would break out with his signature 'Happy Birthday' barking rendition but it did not happen.

Thanks to my husband who ran out to buy some food that Dumbo desperately needed, I prodded that boy awake to get him to eat. In his very sleepy state, he smelt the food and managed to navigate himself to eat. That's a good sign. At least he can still eat.

He perked up briefly after he ate but went back to sleep soon after. I have never seen Dumbo that quiet and peaceful which was a little odd but sad at the same time. At that point, I could only pray silently for his recovery.

Dumbo perking up slightly after eating but fell back to sleep shortly after.

The trusted advisor came by to assess Dumbo's condition and spoke about stroke and possible tumour (due to age). We spoke about diagnostic possibilities and treatments.... but it was still 'seizure watch' in the meantime.

What am I going to do without my trusted doggie advisor?

The 'grans' came back in the evening and Dumbo perked up a fair bit. By then, I had put him on a 2-hourly eating plan to slowly pump the much needed electrolytes and phosphorus into his system. The revised fluids therapy was working as well. After a worrying day of his comatose state, we cheered as Dumbo attempted to sit up on his own and managed to balance.

We cheered as Dumbo attempted to sit up on his own. He became aware of the humans' presence. This emotionally high-maintenance dog perked up when he noticed the 'grans'.

As most recovery goes, it was a roller coaster ride with this emotionally high-maintenance dog. It was a him and me battle every morning as I tried to get him out of bed to relief his bladder. With fluids infusing into him and his heart problem, he has to pee. The only time he was willing to pee in bed was the first day when he was too sedated and out of it to realise he had relieved himself.

As he regained consciousness, he held his pee. But this arthritic old man was in pain every morning, he would growl and try to bite me as I tried to move him. "Stupid grumpy old man", I would curse and swear as beads of perspiration came rolling down my head while battling with him alone. And that's why I said he is a sucky inpatient.

He was taken back to his regular vet clinic on the second day to have an x-ray taken when he rejected food completely. He also presented nystagmus which was worrying. As it turned out, Dumbo has spondylosis which explained his pain and sensitivity whenever I tried to adjust his sleeping position. The vet did acupuncture on him and he went back with injectable pain relief/anti-inflammatory, oral pain relief and another injectable to help with his guts motility.

After the medications effect kicked in, his voracious appetite re-emerged but he was still being picky about certain food. And the next day after that, he showed signs of nausea and became increasingly picky over food and water. So we added anti-nausea tablets as well. And he was still attached to fluids.

Five nights of fluid therapy = five sleepless nights. And I say again, Dumbo owes me nine lives.

As he became progressively better, I started to introduce short (very short) walks as part of his 'physio-rehab'. My home became child-care center with all that rubber alphabet mats being laid out to give him better grip and support as he moved. He was not able to move on his own without assistance but as he grew stronger, he was more willing to attempt walking with adequate make do support. He was also taken out just to sit down, breathe some fresh air and watch the world go by. Cooping him up 24/7 was not going to help stimulate him mentally. Even I was going nuts being cooped up with him.

Dumbo's home physio was learning to walk on these rubber mats. My proud 'mama' (I'm so not his mama) moment when Dumbo could balance on his own standing.

Dumbo on his last day of 'hospi' with me as he started to make superb progress and could slowly walk (with support) more. And yes, he still had a left head tilt.

When my trusted advisor came by to visit him on Thursday morning, she was pleased with his progress. Based on how quick Dumbo's recovery was, we could safely rule out stroke. Yay! And the diagnosis was peripheral vestibular disease which is caused by what-I-call his lousy curly ears and can also attributed by his age.

Good news, at last!

On the day of 'discharge', it was time for group shot. As much as Dumbo and I have a love-hate relationship, he became a part of my cozy home during his five nights stay. Yes Dumbo, once again, you me... love, no love.

Dumbo was discharged home on Saturday morning and he looked a whole lot better. I joked that he would never want to come back here again after almost a week long of stay with me. I have to admit that apart from our morning battles, Dumbo was well-behaved at my place. I had a sneaky suspicion he knew he was rehabilitating here...

Dumbo had one more round of IV injection so I went over to administer it before removing the IV catheter. It was a bitter-sweet moment. After I removed the IV catheter from Dumbo, he suddenly waddled himself to me in his very unsteady gait with that familiar playful look on his face. I quickly moved towards him to support him and he attempted to lick me.

There's this silent thing between Dumbo and me.... sometimes, I just know what he wants. And in that instance, I knew he was trying to tell me, "Thank you. I am much better. You don't have to worry about me anymore."

Think of me as delusional or some crazy dog woman, I don't really care. Sometimes, it is very hard to explain how this love-hate relationship with Dumbo works.

I am, after all, Dumbo's medical emergency bitch.


One Week Later....

---

Because. Everyday Is A Bonus.

So indeed, Mr Wise Man was spot on.

Everyday is a bonus - be it for humans or pets. And don't think it is only for the LKK (lao kok kok = old and stiff).... how many times have you heard about humans or pets who have gone too young, too early?

So for those who wonders why I am this crazy mama who creates these nonsensical adventures for the boys, it is just because I knew the moment Flapper turned 10, everyday is a bonus.  In fact, each day past Flapper's 6th birthday that he is still mobile, I give thanks. He is 10 years 8 months now.  It still overwhelms me daily as I watch him run, jump, swim, fetch.... things which I expected him to start struggling with due to his 'deformed' hips. So thank God Flapper is still active and mobile.

I give thanks for everyday that Flapper can still do this.

After this Dumbo and Miko life and death experience, it made me sit back to appreciate each day I have with the boys even more. There are good reasons why I create these adventures and do the collaborations that I do with the boys, for the boys.

My philosophy is simple - at least they die happy.

Just because.
EVERYDAY IS A BONUS.

---

Sincere thanks to:

• My trusted advisors, Dr A and Dr P, for all their help and advise with Dumbo. Could not have done if without their support and help. And also for all the clinical support rendered.... deeply appreciate it. 

• Mr Dolphin for sacrificing his off-day and covering my shift so I could stay home to nurse Dumbo while you battled through the day on my behalf.. I know. You love me. :P

• Dr V for being my sounding board.

• My husband for his incredible support and patience through those five nights.

• Silversky Pets - That pet bed and those Chunky Core Centers! Neither you nor I thought that those simple gifts could end up playing an integral part of Dumbo's recovery. So thank you!

• Last but not least, the most important person of all, GOD.

(extracted from vetwest.com) 

It all started at the end of February 2017 when this iffy little bulge appeared on my right ear. Mummy felt the lump and got really upset. She said to me, "Why you? I always expected Frodo to get this but never did I expect it to be you."

Please do not mistaken. Mummy is not cursing aural haematoma - let's just call it AH! - upon Frodo. You see, Frodo is the one with the skunky ears and persistent ear infections. He is the 'dua-hum-bao' (big crybaby) whenever mummy needs to administer the ear drops. 

Mummy always laughs and says, "I think the neighbours probably think I'm murdering my dog."'

And the way Frodo shakes and scratches, mummy has mentally prepared for the AH! to pop out.... any time.

So when she discovered that AH! had found me instead, she got very upset. AH! is not a life threatening condition but just plain annoying and an eye sore. It can cause discomfort to us, dogs, as well. The thought of AH! repair surgical repair and all that bandaging made mummy go "AAaaaaHHHHHhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!"

Mummy immediately took a ear swab to see if I had any infection that she might have missed and got even more upset when it came out pretty clean.

She glared at me and grumbled, "It must have come from all your rubbing ways."

And she sighed.

AH! surgical repair was not her preferred choice.

As(s)piration and Exasperation... AH!

When AH! was first discovered on my right ear, it was truly an ah!... a small ah!.

And since it was a small ah!, mummy decided on attempting aspirating the fluid out even though it is know that, more often than not, it does not resolve the AH and the fluid/blood build backs up very quickly. Mummy thought that since the ah! was still a small, MAYBE I can get away with this aspiration route. The recommended route for AH! is surgical repair but with that said, no procedures ever guarantee 100% of no recurrence. And AH! is one of those annoying conditions that CAN recur.

The virgin draw was the best draw. About 1.5 ml of blood/fluid and that was that. Even though my ear appeared all nice, flat and normal after the first aspiration, mummy was worried about tthe 'air pocket' (thus the surgical repair of slicing the ear open and tacking the space down to prevent the fluid from building up again) and hoped that because it was a small ah!, the bloody fluid (literally) will behave and not build up again.

Then exasperation began.

Mummy's attempt at illustrating aspiration of the AH!

The ah! came back to haunt me with a vengeance. After the first aspiration, the fluid built up with a vengeance - from 1.5 ml to 10 ml worth of fluid.

Her next attempt was to 'Emla the shit-out-of' the pinna area and slice it open. She did not have Lidocaine injection so she could only numb it topically. HOWEVER, there are certain regions of the ear that even Mr High-Threshold-of-Pain (me) can feel and that brand new blade did not cut well when needed most. So mummy only managed a small incision which was useless because it would close up very quickly and the fluid party would start again.

I think she was ready to bang her head against the wall then.

Before you think mummy mad or "torturing" me, do note that she constantly seeks advise from her trusted advisors and yes, I could hear her constant whinings, "I'm angry because I was not expecting the AH! to occur on Flapper".


Let It Flow, Let It Flow

So after attempt #1 and seeing how the haematoma came back to haunt me with a vengeance, it was back to the drawing board for mummy.

Two options:

1. Aspirate my ear every day; or
2. Create a 'drainage' system to [hopefully] consistently drain out the fluid and let the air pocket slowly reduce to recovery.

Not a recommended bandaging method for aural haemotoma treatment but ah well! At least I still got to go out to play!

No Elastoplast ear is gonna stop me from playing!

Exactly Two Weeks Later And It Looked Oh-So-Promising....

15th of March 2016 and I had an appearance to do at daddy's office - The 'Meet Flapper' Fundraiser. It was also time to remove the IV catheter from my ear. Up till then, the treatment seemed to be working and resolution of the aural haematoma seemed promising.

Mummy checked on the fluid excretion everyday. It looked healthy and not a whole lot of fluid excretion. And because of the constant drainage, the haematoma did not make its appearance.

Everything looked good.

So I was finally Elastoplast-Free and donned by best PR-look for the event.

Elastoplast-Free and the recovery seemed promising... PR-Face full mode on as I attended the "Meet Flapper" event at daddy's office.

I even managed to do a #LAB-Test with Uncle Nic on that very day after the event.

It Came Back To Haunt Me... Fast And Furious.

It only took just about two days before the annoying haematoma came back to haunt me with a vengeance - BIGGER but not better.

My ear, by then, had developed a sensitivity to the elastoplast and mummy decided to go back to good 'ol fashion aspiration (method #1) to manage the haematoma for the time being.

24th March 2017 and it was Frodo's Pre-Birthday celebration! Mummy only decided about two days prior to that that we shall go have a good swim. No thanks to my iffy ear, we had not swam in about a month. Mummy said, "Flapper, since your ear is all iffy anyway, might as well go knock yourself out and have a good day of fun."

I'm not complaining! Frodo and I made it down to the sea as fast and furious as my haematoma was haunting me.

If you can't beat 'em, joing 'em. Ain't no haematoma is stopping me from having a good time! Actually, if you stare at my ear hard enough, you can actually see the bulge.

Weekend came and mummy decided to let Frodo have his much-anticipated PJ-party with grandpa. Mummy forgot to pack the syringes and needles so she decided to let it be for the weekend and see what happens.

By Saturday night, the haematoma had packed itself to the brim and mummy was very very sad. She looked at me and said, "Surely I don't have to choose surgical repair route."

While Frodo was happily indulging in his grandpa love time, mummy was busy thinking about what to do next. She decided to give the IV catheter method another go. If it still doesn't resolve this round, she would call it quits and surgical repair it shall be.


Because of how my ear was reacting to the Elastoplast, mummy did not want to use back the same method of pasting the entire ear. So she decided to just use that bit of Elastoplast just to secure the IV catheter in place and I was cone-head once again - to prevent me from scratching or rubbing off the catheter.

As per the last time, a bit of anti-inflammation drug was injected in but I responded poorly to it this round. My ear became hot and inflammed. On that Wednesday, the fluid that was pulled out started to look a little wonky and mummy became very suspicious (and highly worried) that it have gotten septic.

By Thursday, Mummy pretty much knew we had hit dead end on treating this haematoma without surgery.

On Friday, the trusted advisor took time to come visit me and mummy presented the fluid to her.

Bad news.

The verdict was out.
The appearance of the fluid drawn out was worrying.

Surgical repair was the necessary evil but mummy could not help but still feel devastated. She had thrown in the kitchen sink in an attempt to resolve this damn aural haematoma without surgical repair but to no avail.

Mummy also had to admit that age has indeed caught up with me. Recovery has become sluggish. Her once problem-free boy... slowly but surely, little issues has started to creep in.




I Surrender All

That very night, mummy surrendered. To God.

She could not accept that in all her humanly ways possible, the aural haematoma could not get resolved and my ear could not escape the knife.

Daddy and mummy spent a good portion of their Quiet Time praying for me. That was the only thing mummy could do now. Just surrender to God and leave me in His hands. I heard their prayers and perked my head up. I snuggled in next to mummy and joined them in their prayers.

What happens next, I leave it all to God.


His Healing Hands and The Road To Recovery

The next morning, which happens to be April's Fools Day, we woke up to our usual routine except that no breakfast for me because I had to be fasted for the surgery.

Mummy checked my ear and her eyes opened up wide.

"Flapper, either I'm dreaming or wishful thinking...... but your ear actually looks better!", mummy said excitedly.

Mummy thought the inflammation and fluid collection looked like it had gone down by more 50%. Since I was already booked in for the surgery, she decided to take me in to the clinic anyway and let my trusted advisor have a look. Mummy daren't put her hopes up as she was afraid it was her eyes playing tricks on her.

We arrived at the clinic and mummy gushed to my trusted advisor to have a look at my ear. She agreed that the inflammation and the swell looked reduced. She asked mummy, "So how? You still want to proceed?"

Mummy was, without doubt, on the edge in making the decision. Superficially, my ear looked a whole lot better compared to the past three days. But based on my iffy ear's stinkin' record for the past month, she was also worried about "what if".

My trusted advisor said, "Look. He seems comfortable, the ear does not seem to be bothering him, eating well... he looks clinically well. You can still choose to monitor a few more days and if it recurs or gets worse, then book him in again for the surgery."

Mummy was still tentative.

Then she proposed, "Shall we pull the fluid out and do a cyto(logy) first? If it is septic, then we go ahead and do the repair."

Agreed.

The Cytology-Queen aka My Trusted Advisor went through the slide under the slide very carefully and blah blah blah.... "pretty" neutrophils = inflammation... blah blah blah.... no apparent sepsis. I think that's what she said.

I was too busy being a social butterfly to really hear what she was saying.

So it was decided then that the surgery was tentatively postponed.

Mummy had two options:

• Start me on another course of antibiotics immediately; or
• Bring a fresh batch of fluid on Monday and send it out for Culture and Sensitivity (C&S) to confirm yes or no infection and then start on the antibiotics I am sensitive to.

HEALING
adjective
1. curing or curative; prescribed or helping to heal.
2. growing sound; getting well; mending.

noun
3. the act or process of regaining health:

The lesson about HEALING is... it takes time. Yes. Like many others, mummy wished upon a one-touch miracle that I was healed. IMMEDIATELY. But I was already very blessed to have been touched by His Healing Hand and was miraculously made better overnight.

By Monday, my ear actually - once again, by God's grace - looked normal. The inflammation was gone but the fluid build-up was significantly lesser. So mummy decided to skip the C&S and antibiotics as my ear looked markedly improved.

And it was also on that very day that mummy issued a no-play order to me. She said SHE (note it's she, not me) had to be good and not cave in to my masterful emo-face. Based on previous experience, she noticed that each time we went out for wild play, the haematoma would haunt me further.

No play.
Now I'm depressed.

By Wednesday evening, my ear appeared a promising road to recovery and I had to go erase my paw print off Thursday's surgery booking.

By Friday, I had to make it known to mummy that I was not happy about the 'no-play' order.




Today.
10th April 2017

Even though it has only been a week but Frodo and I are actively shooting smoke out of our heads from MY no-play rule. Sorry Frodo! My bad that you have to suffer with me.

My ear is healthily recovering though I still get the 'attack' of the needle as and when required - every two to three days or so. The fluid volume is markedly reduced and it has been breathtaking to see the daily improvement of my iffy right ear since that miraculous Saturday.

Mummy and daddy continues giving praise and thanks to God while praying for me. I lift my paw to put on mummy's hand every time they pray (no bluff about this). I pray with them. I pray for the no-play rule to be lifted.. SOON!

My recovering ear today. It is a long road to recovery but boy am I happy it is finally getting there.

This has been such an amazing, almost unbelievable, journey of faith. I did wonder, "Would God lay His hands on me and heal me... a mere dog? A big blonde dog."

All praise to the mighty Father for listening to our prayers, not despising me for being a mere dog and with His grace, my ear escaped the knife and is healing well.

It took me a long time to write this story as it could sound pretty ludicrous. But all that I've shared is the truth and nothing but the truth.

The Tale Tail Of My Iffy Ear And His Healing Hand.

Thank You God.

And not forgetting as well... a big humongous special thanks to my trusted advisor for being there with me through this journey.