To understand this week I have to rewind to this time last year. My husband Joey was gone on a 4 month trip for work, and Sandi (my dog) and I were left to hold down the fort. Sandi was 7 years old last year. She’s a German Shorthair Pointer who lives for a good trail ride and splashing through streams. She knows the difference between my barn clothes and my other clothes, and the second she sees my riding pants and boot socks come out of the drawer she starts running around like a maniac and whining at me if I’m not moving fast enough. We’ve been through a lot together – most of which you will eventually read about in this blog. She’s my buddy – with me through thick and thin. She also happens to be one of the best behaved barn dogs I’ve ever met. When she was young I taught her to stay out of the riding arena until “Mom” is done riding. The other dogs will be playing in the sand, completely oblivious to the fact that a 1000 lb horse is about to run over them (quite frustrating as a rider) while Sandi waits patiently in the grass by the fence watching my every move.
We went on a trail ride – the typical 45 minutes on the small mountain behind the property Silas lives on – and Sandi had a blast. She slept well that night, exhausted from the excitement of the day. The next morning she woke up limping on her front leg. I kept my eye on it for a few days, but didn’t get too worked up. She could have easily pulled something or even been stepped on by a horse at some point. About 5 days later the limp switched from her front leg to a back leg. On that note we immediately made an appointment at the vet and started treating for Lyme’s Disease. The treatment wasn’t working. My sweet dog who had been the picture of good health just two weeks before was quickly deteriorating. She could barely hold herself when she went to potty and I was supporting her as she went up and down the stairs. The vet we used had no answers, so after a desperate plea to my horse’s vet (the only vet I trust in this state) she recommended a small animal vet to me that she assured would be able to help my dog. She was right. After rounds and rounds of very expensive testing he had a conclusion. This was an autoimmune disease. That means her immune system was attacking healthy cells – in her case her joints. We immediately pulled her off the pain medicines that would react with the steroids – the only drugs that could treat such a disease – and for 3 weeks I had to watch my dog suffer while we waited for the meds to work their way out of her system. At this point I was carrying her up and down the stairs, walking next to her and holding her to keep her from falling, and supporting her while she pottied. Once we were able to start the steroids there was immediate improvement! My dog was able to walk again and go up and down the stairs on her own. I was elated! But then I soon realized this “miracle medicine” that was keeping her angry immune system at bay had its own down sides. The medicine that was saving her from her immune system appeared to be killing off the rest of her body. We were doing blood tests every 3 weeks and kept her on pills to fix the damage to her liver. For months I looked at Sandi and wondered if she would survive this whole ordeal. I prayed daily, and lived with a constant gnawing at my heart that Sandi might not even survive the winter.
to be continued…
Soli deo gloria,
Sarah
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