I am introspective given the challenges we have faced since Christmas day…some of you know this story, some do not. What I post here is as much for my well-being as it is my hope that it can help others.
Last year was a whirlwind of activity, including multiple judging assignments in my journey to attain my full AKC license as a judge in SniffyStuff, lots of trials, and tons of training. Life was hectic, and great.
In November, still in the midst of our crazy schedule, Jinx had a few sneezing fits that were not quite “normal”, and then a few days later had a runny nose. No other visible symptoms. We put him on a round of antibiotics to keep it from developing into something worse. That part worked…but the day after he finished that course of antibiotics, he would randomly puke very early in the morning. Not every day…and some days we had loose poop. But then things would go back to a-ok.
In an abundance of caution, my friend and amazing vet, Alison Brendel, suggested blood work to see where he was. Picture of health. Yay!
Christmas morning, I was awakened again by puking, and this time there was blood. In a panic we gathered him up and took him to Mid-Columbia Pet Emergency. His blood work was wonky…a mere 5 days since the last blood draw. And when I say wonky, I mean really not right. He was a bit dehydrated and lethargic, so he was admitted.
We took him home the next day and were to come back for another blood draw that night. His numbers were tanking and he was so lethargic that the vet assistant had to get in his crate in the rig with him to get vitals. Later that night, we admitted him again, and the vet promised to call me with any updated numbers.
To make a long story a bit shorter, he continued to decline. We performed so many tests, which ruled out a lot of things, but didn’t point to a specific diagnosis. The vet had talked to us about several possible conditions that this could be, and when she called us after a blood draw, and his numbers were worsening, she diagnosed it as IMHA: Immune-Mediated Hemolytic Anemia. We immediately started the recommended treatment without hesitation.
Like us, if you have no idea what IMHA is, the short version is that for some reason the body has decided to decimate your own red blood cells even as the body is trying to make them. She described the process as a wood chipper. It can be idiopathic (no defined trigger) or secondary (a result of some other condition). At that point, it was called idiopathic. When Alison and I took his blood on 12/20, his hematocrit was 50; when he tanked it was 25. A 50% drop in 7 days. That’s sobering.
The treatment is immunosuppressants (yes, plural meds) antibiotics, blood thinners, Prilosec, cerenia to soothe the upset gut…and I should mention that he hadn’t eaten since Christmas eve. This is now December 27.
Bloodwork had to be done every day to monitor everything, and specifically hematocrit, platelets and white cell count. He would only eat cottage cheese, but it was better than nothing. His coat was dull. He’d lost 7+ pounds. His eyes didn’t sparkle. Naughtiness was gone. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get my boy back.
Our care then transitioned to Horse Sense Vet under the talented Alison and her equally skilled and compassionate crew. He was tired of being a pin cushion. I was getting no sleep as he was up every hour every night to pee (thanks, prednisolone). No walks. No training. No peeing or going anywhere by himself. He was slowly beginning to get an appetite back, but what he wanted varied from day to day. Bland diet was a no go. Finally found some wet food that he would eat. Our instructions were to give him what he wanted, but to incorporate the kibble Mollie eats (hydrolyzed protein) into it. Over a couple weeks he was eating everything in sight (again, thanks, pred).
Slowly, surely, his numbers improved…but his liver is taking a hit. Fortunately, that organ regenerates and we have a supplement for that.
So here we are, 8 weeks post diagnosis. We have phased out most meds, phased down the pred, and we are now sleeping through the night. He’s gained back 8 pounds. His eyes are bright and his coat is lustrous. He’s naughty. And I’ve never been happier for that.
His numbers are now stable, we are adjusting meds and he has freedoms back. We’ve been cleared to train and trial within reason. We’ve started a fitness program to gain muscle tone back. We now know for sure this is an autoimmune condition, based on his amazing progress and response to the meds. Something triggered it, and to my frustration we likely will never know what that was.
Our goal is to eliminate all the meds and for his body to stop attacking itself. But as they have all told me this is a marathon, not a sprint. By that I’m not talking weeks…more like months to a year.
We were told at the ER most dogs that come in have a hematocrit level below 15 which leads to immediate transfusions…they said Jinx is “lucky” to have humans who know when things just aren’t right…I’m not sure luck has much to do with it…there was a force bigger than us which led us to this point.
Many people I have talked to in the last weeks have said they had a dog with IMHA that didn’t make it. I really don’t like hearing those stories for obvious reasons…but the fact of the matter is, I realize how blessed we are to have the resources, time, and patience to heal him. I also realize that we are fortunate that we did take him in when his hematocrit was 37 and not below 15. The ONLY reason for that is he and I are together usually 20 hours a day, and we are tightly bonded. He knows when I’m off and I know when he is off. A blessing in this case.
I’m sharing this story not because I want to draw sympathy…I simply did what I needed to do for him. He is beating this. If there’s a lesson in this that can help someone else, then the circle is complete. A piece of advice: know your dog and know when something is off – and then advocate hard for treatment and solutions. I wasn’t going to stop until we had a diagnosis and a plan. And that saved his life.
If I can offer one thought that is all encompassing, it would be this:
When you get frustrated with your training, your progress, your trial difficulties…whatever…take a breath…quietly think about how quickly a diagnosis could change EVERYTHING. Then, take a good long look at your canine partner and let all that other shit go.
Love the journey.
And most of all, love the dog with everything you have.
Today could be your last day together. In the end, the bond and love are really all that matter.
