Semester Three, Week Eight

I was right and wrong about my dog having a GI issue. Right, in the fact that she does have a GI related problem. Wrong in that what she has likely will kill her. She was diagnosed with pancreatitis last Sunday, and despite a slew of medical intervention has made little progress.

Losing my dog will be more than a grieving process; it will simply break my heart, halting normal every day function, ability to live happily for awhile.

I know. It's just a dog. She's more than a dog to me. She was my first and only dog. My constant companion. The one who slept in my bed with me for 10+ years until she got too old and decided to sleep elsewhere. She is my first canine love; the one who has been a faithful friend. From filtering out guys who were not good for me (she always knew, and let me know with a small growl) to providing me hours of joy, love, and learning, she's become such a part of my life, my heart, that losing her will simply not be okay.

This week was a difficult one. Class Monday-Tuesday, lab Wednesday, clinicals Thursday-Friday.

I couldn't pay attention in lecture. Not with my dog tanking, and concerned SOS messages from my mom who has been gracious enough to care for my girl while in school.

I drove nearly 600 miles this week, back and forth from my parent's home to class/clinicals, in an effort to provide some supportive care to my dog.

I left early Tuesday, missing my pharmacology lecture, but a few wonderful classmates really stepped up and recorded lecture and supplied the materials that were handed out in class. I received concerned text messages and encouragement, and felt thankful, so thankful that I have support.

The tears have been numerous, too many to count, and if this is possible (a fact I have yet to prove but believe) I think I dehydrated myself with all my tears and had subsequent increased thirst.

Studying was difficult. In between the three hours total of driving each day, and the complications that come with having a dying dog, school certainly took a back burner, despite my best efforts. I can't focus in ABG's when my dog is hyperventilating. I can't concentrate on fluid and electrolyte imbalances when my dog won't eat or drink.

I don't know if I'll enjoy my clinical site. It was okay, the last two days. Critically ill patients, but I have the evening shift, and not a lot is happening at night. I'm comfortable in the patient setting, doing assessments and what not, but like I said, focus is limited, and presently, I just can't conjure up the emotions to care about much of anything, save my dog and the impending heartache.

I have two exams next week, and I am somewhat concerned about passing them. I recognize that this may be an uphill battle for some time, and I'm hoping for lack of emotion, concentration, and determination to kick in at some point.

And, as if to make matters a bit worse, I had my thyroid checked (you know; the one that always causes me trouble?) and my TSH is almost 0. Yes, 0. The range starts at .4. No wonder I'm losing it.