It is shortly after noon and I’ve just finished the breakfast dishes after finally getting some sleep after a long night. Knight our greyhound was very excited when visitors called the day before yesterday, even going so far as to bark, a very rare occurrence. I suspected at the time that he might have banged into something. He seemed alright that night but the next morning came downstairs quite slowly (ie not jumping the last 3 stairs) and seemed to be limping slightly. After I got back from a day's cycling the carer (and my wife) told me that he was definitely limping and had turned for home when they were out with him. I checked his paws and then up his left leg and he gave a squeal. He seemed increasingly uncomfortable when walking about and even getting settled down seemed to give him some distress. My wife kept repeating that we should get ‘the doctor’ to do a house call, which did nothing for my anxiety so I decided to phone the out of hours vet (at our normal practice). We were advised to take him for a checkup straightaway rather than to wait for an appointment the next day. I had to help him climb into the car and out again at the vets. During the 15 minute journey my wife must have asked at least 15 times where we were going.
The vet soon confirmed that the dog has a sore elbow on his left foreleg, but with no swelling evident she felt that it was unlikely to be a fracture. She gave him a syringe worth of an opiate to help with his pain and a course of painkillers for the next 7 days. My wife remembers none of this. The vet advised that Knight should avoid walks and going up or down stairs so, after his final toilet break last night, I tried to get him settled down in the kitchen. From upstairs I could hear what appeared to be a locomotive as Knight developed a reaction to his medication that left him standing panting. As it was not stopping I rang the vet for advice. On hearing the panting she said that this was something that sometimes happened, would do him no harm, and should subside approximately 8 hours after the time the medication was administered.
I did not want to leave him until it subsided so sat in the kitchen whilst he stood in the corridor, his tongue a mile long and his ribs going in and out with each rapid pant. My wife was upstairs ready for bed but came down after about 40 minutes, having put on additional clothes, and refused to go to bed again or to sit down. Her commentary about the ‘doctor’ coming back, my lack of attention to the dog, her love for him, and wanting to say goodbye (as he was dying) and so on did nothing for my own mood. She was at the same time surprised to hear that there was anything wrong. The dog stopped panting about 4am and we went to bed. Not for long though as he started to whimper and howl at the injustice of being left alone in the kitchen. I went to calm him down and eventually got to bed about 5, only to be woken by my wife getting dressed before 8. Knight had by then made his way upstairs so we caught up on our sleep until about 10:30, whilst she did whatever she does (involving lots of kitchen roll and the grate in the living room this time).
Knight now looks back to his normal self, though still limping a bit. As he can stand for hours on end this suggests that nothing is broken. I have a course of pain killers to give him and he had one with his breakfast this morning. Trying to get my wife to take any of this in is a lost cause.
We now need to take the dog out for a toilet break before going to the shops but before that I want my wife to change out of her nightwear, over which she has added tops, jumpers and coats, and the pair of non-matching shoes (one black, one blue) that she is wearing. She claims that they are a pair and that she has no others.
A very long post about a dog, you may think but at heart it is about how lonely and difficult it becomes when dementia means that one's partner is no longer able to understand, empathise or support. Hence the things that they say and do just add to the stress one is already feeling and the whole situation just seems so much worse. Not unfamiliar to others I guess.
The vet soon confirmed that the dog has a sore elbow on his left foreleg, but with no swelling evident she felt that it was unlikely to be a fracture. She gave him a syringe worth of an opiate to help with his pain and a course of painkillers for the next 7 days. My wife remembers none of this. The vet advised that Knight should avoid walks and going up or down stairs so, after his final toilet break last night, I tried to get him settled down in the kitchen. From upstairs I could hear what appeared to be a locomotive as Knight developed a reaction to his medication that left him standing panting. As it was not stopping I rang the vet for advice. On hearing the panting she said that this was something that sometimes happened, would do him no harm, and should subside approximately 8 hours after the time the medication was administered.
I did not want to leave him until it subsided so sat in the kitchen whilst he stood in the corridor, his tongue a mile long and his ribs going in and out with each rapid pant. My wife was upstairs ready for bed but came down after about 40 minutes, having put on additional clothes, and refused to go to bed again or to sit down. Her commentary about the ‘doctor’ coming back, my lack of attention to the dog, her love for him, and wanting to say goodbye (as he was dying) and so on did nothing for my own mood. She was at the same time surprised to hear that there was anything wrong. The dog stopped panting about 4am and we went to bed. Not for long though as he started to whimper and howl at the injustice of being left alone in the kitchen. I went to calm him down and eventually got to bed about 5, only to be woken by my wife getting dressed before 8. Knight had by then made his way upstairs so we caught up on our sleep until about 10:30, whilst she did whatever she does (involving lots of kitchen roll and the grate in the living room this time).
Knight now looks back to his normal self, though still limping a bit. As he can stand for hours on end this suggests that nothing is broken. I have a course of pain killers to give him and he had one with his breakfast this morning. Trying to get my wife to take any of this in is a lost cause.
We now need to take the dog out for a toilet break before going to the shops but before that I want my wife to change out of her nightwear, over which she has added tops, jumpers and coats, and the pair of non-matching shoes (one black, one blue) that she is wearing. She claims that they are a pair and that she has no others.
A very long post about a dog, you may think but at heart it is about how lonely and difficult it becomes when dementia means that one's partner is no longer able to understand, empathise or support. Hence the things that they say and do just add to the stress one is already feeling and the whole situation just seems so much worse. Not unfamiliar to others I guess.
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