An update on the dog.
Whoo, where to begin. . . first off, if you're upset by blood, just skip to the bottom now.
On Labor Day, my dog (really my brother's, but he stays with me) was playing with my brother's fiance when he had a complete freak accident and caught the stick wrong, which made him yelp several times.
The idiot vet (I hate that particular vet, it's not the first time he's been wrong) touched his jaw, which of course made the poor dog yelp. The vet then stopped there instead of looking further, and misdiagnosed it as a sprained jaw, giving us painkillers for him and sending us home.
I voiced my disapproval, but my stepdad, who I was with at the time felt that he was the vet and he knew best.
He did NOT know best. . .
So the next day the dog was given painkillers, but was coughing a little and leaving blood on the floor. Obviously, it isn't normal for dogs to cough blood, so after convincing my stepdad that the poor dog needed another vet to see him, we returned that afternoon. The dog was happy to get out and trotted around, saying hi to the other dogs. Then he abruptly lost all of his energy and laid down under my stepdad's legs - NOT normal behavior.
We got into the vet's room and he opened the dog's mouth, provoking more yelps. HE noticed the bloody mass at the back of the mouth and was smart enough to tell us that that was NOT normal or acceptable.
It needed to be examined, but they were not equipped to sedate and examine a shepherd/border collie mix at that hour, so we were asked to keep the dog overnight then bring him early the next day.
Thursday, my parents took Jackson the dog back to the vet, and I waited anxiously for hours.
Finally I got the news, the poor dog had a sliver of stick lodged in his jaw, right by the hinge. It's over 2 inches long and about a quarter of an inch wide. Some sprained jaw! Speaking of jaws, I'd kind of like to break that first vet's for leaping to assumptions without properly doing his job.
They had to give Jackson a blood transfusion, then kept him for observation.
Friday, we thought that Jackson was stable, so we attended a pool party. While swimming, I spotted my mother on the phone. I had a bad feeling, so I got out, grabbed a towel and hurried over to hear the news.
The news was that a storm was due, and since Jackson suffers from severe thunderstorm anxiety and it turns out that the veterinary hospital doesn't observe animals overnight (No wonder they missed what you'll read about soon), they asked us to please pick him up. Oh, and do it within the next 15 minutes because they close at 8:00PM.
So we informed my stepdad and left the party early, I was sopping wet so I waited in the parking lot while they went in to get our poor dog.
They came out with Jackson, I surrendered my towel for him to lay on, and we went home.
More blood spotting occurred, but we dismissed it as normal after a surgery, because the vets expected the gauze they'd packed his injury with to come out.
Saturday, Jackson was fine until noon. I made a sandwich and sat down to check e-mail while he was laying in my room. Suddenly, he coughed and blood came out, then more blood. Needless to say, I panicked, abandoned my lunch and called my parents to get their butts down there and get this dog back to the vet ASAP!
They did, with Jackson collapsing just before the front door, leaving a trail of blood from my room and up the steps.
I watched the car go, then indulged in a fit of sobbing as any pet owner would if an animal they cared about were in that situation.
I then cleaned up the bloody mess, mostly as something to do and waited until the call came hours later.
He'd had another transfusion, it turned out that he's been bleeding internally and simply swallowing the blood (hence a smell I'd noticed from his rear - blood poop) This time there were no suitable dogs to donate blood, so one of the vets had been wonderful enough to drive home, and rush her own golden retriever in, shaving the dog's neck and extracting blood to save Jackson's life with.
I'm sending that vet a very nice thank you card and a tin of doggy treats for her dog!
After that, we all agreed that Jackson was NOT staying at a place that didn't even monitor the animals at night! Especially when they couldn't find the source of his bleeding!
So my parents learned of an emergency clinic, put Jackson back into the car, and drove off to get him there. What a place!
My mother explained the situation and almost before she could finish, the nurse on duty called in a triage team - four vets who ran to the car with a stretcher, got Jackson out, and took him into surgery. As it turns out, that last transfusion had been just enough to keep him alive that long, because his blood count was down too low again and he needed another and another.
They worked to seal off all the bleeders (that's any damaged and leaking veins or arteries) but the blood continued to come, and they couldn't find the source.
They finally called for a special surgeon to come in, and that was the last that I heard until Tuesday, with Monday being devoted to the vets trying desperately to find and seal off the source of the bleeding.
Finally, the news came that the surgeon had cut up through Jackson's chin, found a pumping artery, and clamped it off, saving Jackson's life.
Okay, the upsetting part's over.
Nice month so far, huh?
Anyway, Jackson's home now with staples in his chin and the stick sliver that nearly killed him in a neat little plastic vial.
He gets the sutures out in a week, and until then we're just trying to keep him from being too active. He has free reign of the house but isn't allowed to run or jump, and had to take antibiotics, antacids, and painkillers.
He's panting a lot, but that's common in intelligent dogs after a surgery, plus one of his medicines lists panting as a side effect. It doesn't hurt him so we tolerate it.
Luckily he's more or less back to normal aside from that, just a little more clingy (and he was clingy before).
The issues remains though, how to pay off the bills. As you can imagine, they got to be pretty high.
I'm accepting donations in my LJ to try to help, but unless something changes, I could be forced to move.
That would be bad because it would force me to give up my pet chickens, and I raised the entire flock either from chicks or from eggs, some even hatched in my hands.
So that brings you up to date on my drama. I'm not saying that I deserve special attention, but it does make it seem that much lamer when kids whine about nonsense. It's really hard to care about who changed their name, or who's taking it as a personal insult when I'm still dealing with my own situation, something that's actually impacting myself and my family. . .
CORNSiLKDreamer Community Member 
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