All posts tagged: FCE

Canine Crisis…the NEXT Final Chapter: FROM POOP TO PEE

A few months ago I wrote about life feeling like an endless shit storm…literally. And by “literally”, I mean literally…my two (still-diapered) kids and my feculence-challenged dog. Now that my older son is diaper-free and the dog is on a schedule where I regularly express her bowels (gag), life feels much less shitty. Pun intended. Now it’s pissy. Madison’s acupuncturist (yes…her acupuncturist…everyone says it’s the best treatment for FCE…and by “everyone”, I don’t mean the Google) suggested we stop expressing her bladder, thereby stimulating her nerves to regain some control. Meaning: with patience and timing she pees intentionally about half the time. It also means she pees unintentionally half the time. Particularly when she’s excited and I haven’t timed it well, she’s standing one second and squatting the next. Only, because of her neurological issues, she can’t effectively squat, so she walks as she squats. Meaning: she leaves a trail of pee. And if she loses control in the apartment, she knows she’s doing wrong, panics and ends up peeing in lines (or circles) on …

Quality Time With My Dog’s Anus (Canine Crisis: The Final Chapter?)

OK, folks. This one’s crude. I’m not catering to my legions of fraternity readers with potty humor. It’s straight-up facts. Maddie is walking and running. She seems unperturbed when her hips occasionally slip and slam on the ground. She just keeps going. The only thing I desperately hope for, by this point, is control of her bladder and bowels. Dear doggy lord: my Maddie is running adequately. I’ll trade further progress in the leg region for any control in her nether regions. We’ve had to “express” her bladder since the beginning of her FCE ordeal. She grows a 3-inch balloon in her gut. We put our fingers behind her ribs and squeeze back and in. Something triggers and her back legs shoot straight out while urine sprays out of her with the force of a super-soaker. Not difficult, merely annoying. But nothing’s as bad as the poop. Before walking returned, the poor dog soiled herself. Bowels emptied onto her tail and legs and she’d try to drag her paralyzed hind-end away. Daily baths were the …

Canine Crisis: Chapter 4 (of 5)

Happy 2015! On our drive to pick up Maddie, my partner and I discussed our worries. “What if she’s no better? It seems a real possibility.” “I don’t know. Let’s wait and see. But I can admit, I don’t want to have a paralyzed dog. We aren’t going to configure wheels under her hind end.” “Nope. That’s no life for her. Or for us.” “But do we?…” “Let’s just see.” We walked into Wizard of Paws. There was Maddie. Her head popped up and she tried to drag herself to us. Frankly, I couldn’t see any difference. Poor dog still soiling herself and dragging legs behind in her own filth. Deb (the Wizard) enthusiastically welcomed us. “Come on in and see what she can do.” She carried Maddie to the mat corner. There, Deb propped Maddie between her own legs. True: Maddie stood. Definite progress. Then Deb supported Maddie on a kidney-bean therapy ball. As we held the contraption still, Deb said, “See? It’s just like human therapy. With these balance balls, all her tiny …

Canine Crisis, Part 1

So this post requires audience participation. Please contort your face with me: wide-eyed, mouth-slightly-agape and vaguely smiling. You’re stupefied when you’ve just been told you need to make a $5,000 dollar deposit for a medical procedure. For your dog. It’s a look that says, “I’m sorry, whaaaaaaat?” It’s a laughline . Cue audience tittering. Let’s call it “The Gavin Look”. Several weeks ago, our kids and sitter were playing normally with our dog, Madison (Maddie). Suddenly Maddie yelped and lay down. The kids ran toward her and, when she tried to escape, she drug her back legs behind her. Just dragged them. When I got home, I saw she was, indeed, paralyzed. I took her to a 24-hour dog hospital. (Only in NYC). Before leaving, my partner said, “If they have to put her down, don’t let it happen tonight. We have to say goodbye.” Gulp. I walked into the hospital carrying Maddie and said, “Uh…my dog’s back legs aren’t working.” Within seconds, a vet led me to an exam room. After a quick look, …