Very sad face. Very sad walk. Very sad doggie.
We’re cuddled up on the bed together, and I’m typing this with one hand, the other hand having been claimed as dog-pillow, and not grudged at all. If having skin within easy licking reach makes her feel better, I’m all for it. She’s been getting as many biscuits, and as much cuddling as she wants (and since she’s a whippet, that’s a whole lot of biscuits & a whole lot of cuddling.) Her poor Nellie-belly looks horrific, honestly, all puffy and Frankenstein-stitched. And she acts like she’s in agony.
(Which she probably is, but my last dog was this amazingly stoic, stern dog who never admitted to being bothered physically by anything – not even the massive tumor that killed her before we ever knew it was there, so stoic was she – so I got used to thinking of the surgery to spay a female dog as a pretty routine, easy in&out sort of thing. It didn’t bother Sydney at all…)
Nellie has no such scruples about sparing my feelings. She squeals when she jumps off the bed and squeals when she jumps up on the bed (for obviously, only the people-bed will do when she feels this lousy.) And every so often she shudders out a sigh of a breath in her sleep that sounds like her heart is breaking.
Which makes my heart break.
And yes, I know that spaying a dog is important. I know it’s to her health-benefit in the long-run. I know I signed a contract stating that I would have her spayed when I bought her from the breeder.
But my heart’s still sore that my Nellie is so uncomfortable.
As for me, I’m actually doing ok. The teenaged boys were great today, bringing me a chair when one of them noticed that I was looking a bit pale. Good kids, every one of ’em. And they did a great job with the mice. (I’ll post the recipe later, when I can include pictures.)
And despite the pallor, I had no spectacular pain today. I’m spotting a bit of old blood, but nothing new or cramp-inducing. I go in for another hCG test tomorrow to verify that my hormone-levels are still dropping appropriately (and please, anyone who’s listening, let those levels be dropping appropriately!) and then I should be able to get back to once-a-week hCGs for a while. If I can avoid the meth. shot, I should be able to start this process up again as soon as I’ve zeroed out.
At least that’s the plan. (Listen very carefully & you should be able to hear the Fates laughing at me…)
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