This morning my oldest son awakened me with a phone call to check how I was doing. I was ok, but in pain. I had 3 1/2 hours before I could call the vet about picking up my little, injured dog. I spent them on the computer and back and forth on the bed as my hurt finger began to hurt more and more. Finally at 9:00, an hour before I’d been told to call, I phoned the vet’s office. My dog is doing well and I could pick her up at 11:00 am. It was Saturday – the busiest day of the week for my vet. I almost cried, but didn’t argue. I will argue with doctors, but I had no idea why he wanted me to wait two more hours, but I thought he must have a good reason.
The time dragged by, and finally at 9:30 the pain was so enormous that I took a half of a pain pill. The prescription reads 2 every four hours as needed. I hadn’t had one since 4:00 am when I had taken half of one. I could stand the pain no more. I’d tried not to take them because I had to drive to pick up my dog. Also I have an enormous fear of becoming addicted to pain pills, and I try not to take them any more than I have to.
By 11:00 am, when it was time to go get Blackie, I realized the pain was so great that I could not drive. I called my oldest son, who lives in another town, but close by. He had worked all night and must have been sleeping because his phone went straight to voice mail. I left him a message asking him to call when he got it. I then called my vet’s office. My dog was ready to be picked up, and yes, she was active. I imagined her hitting my sore, broken, recently dislocated finger. It hurt so bad already that I was struggling not to cry. My youngest son, who is staying with me right now, had said he could ride with me and try to hold her in his lap, but we both knew how exhuberant she was in a car. His feet, which were injured in the Pit Bull attack, were in great pain and he would not be able to go in the vet’s with me. “Mom,” he’d told me, “you are in no shape to try to take care of that dog. Maybe you should wait a day or two to get her.” So with a heavy heart, I called the vet’s and explained the situation. The receptionist said she’d never heard me sound like this, and she went to talk to the vet. He sent word by her that he would board my dog for the rest of the week-end and I could pick her up Monday. So I left her there.
When my oldest son called later, I told him what had happened and how bad I felt about it. He reminded me about how the doctor told me just last week, when I’d been in the hospital that I should “get ahead of the pain” . . . not let it get so great before I asked for pain meds. So I began to take the pain pills more as directed, but still half a pill at the time. My hand ached and throbbed in pain all day. Tonight I let the cat come in my room. She happily stretched out on Blackie’s bed and at 11:00 pm, I went to bed for the night. I awakened at 1:30 with the cat in my face, but for the first time free of pain in my finger. It was wonderful not to hurt.I let the cat out of my bedroom and got up for a minute. The pain began to return. I took half of a pain pill, but now an hour later, had to take the other half. I hope the pain eases back up and I’ll go back to bed.
I’ve typed this using just one hand. I realize I was truly not able to go get my dog today, but hopefully I will be on Monday. At least I see there will be an end to this pain. If it’s quit hurting once, it can quit hurting again. I’ll get my little dog on Monday. I can only hope and pray she’s not upset, and that the time will go quickly between now and then for her.