Yesterday was one of those days that I should have stayed in bed and pulled the covers over my head and abandoned adulting. Actually, my woes started on Sunday night. Still worried about Michael, Pip started hacking and coughing from the depths of his bowels. Whenever Pip moved, a deep inward snort would be followed by a bone-rattling cough and choke. He sounded like something was trapped in his throat. Oh goody...
Michael was feeling none too flash and chose to stay in bed. After finally finishing the Mount Etna pile of ironing, I rang the vet and organised an appointment for High Noon. What to do with Michael? His strict instructions were to do nothing, go nowhere and use the magic spray if he was unwell. Then ring the ambos. Followed by me.
Melody from "the Vet" in Northam had supplied me with some anti-anxiety medication for Pip. I duly threw the capsule down his reluctant throat at ten o'clock. Upon hearing his symptoms, she also set up our consultation in the carpark, just in case Pip had Canine Cough, which is highly contagious.
I chose to take the Top Beverley Road to York. First mistake. Roadworks were occurring in three separate locations. I lost fifteen minutes and raised my anxiety levels through Goldie's roof. Arriving in Northam just after twelve, I rang Michael. He was having his breakfast and tablets. So far, so good.
Sitting in Goldie's passenger seat, Pip was firmly in my arms as I whispered sweet nothings into his paranoid Jack Russell ear and Melody attempted to examine him. I immediately doubted that he was anywhere near Death's Door, such was his persistent and desperate struggling. Frantic hyperventilation was his response to being successfully muzzled. Somehow, Melody performed a rapid once-over, clipped his toenails, took his temperature, squeezed his anal glands and gave him an injection. Once released from my clutches, he trotted over to the nearest tree and lifted his leg. without any side effects from his ordeal.
As for me, my left hand, wrist and forearm were all dripping blood. Pip had succeeded in taking my skin off in a variety of locations, as well as a small scratch on my neck. I was covered in blood, slobber and dog hair. A further insult was a gum tree branch self-pruning and landing on my head. Fortunately, a skinny branch.
Just after this mayhem, Michael and I started ping-pong calls between our mobiles. The gist was Michael was feeling quite unwell and Greg was taking him to Beverley Hospital.
I hastily collected Pip's meds and shot off at high speed in the direction of home. I am fairly sure I broke the land speed record as I raced back down the highway. Hauling Pip out of Goldie at home, I chucked him into the house and locked the door. I arrived in the Beverley ED just as they were installing a drip line in his arm. Jan and Greg had conducted the rescue mission successfully.
Thus began the waiting game. A link with the on-call cardiologist in Perth. Tests and monitoring. About mid-afternoon, the decision was taken to transfer Michael by ambulance with a nurse to Northam Hospital for further investigation. Eventually, Michael was loaded into the vehicle by local volunteers Jenny and Peter and accompanied by one of the fantastic RNs, Kelsey.
A quarter to four. I took the opportunity to go home from a shower and pack. I had the very strong impression that we wouldn't be returning home for the duration. Jan arrived for a cup of tea and was verbally bombarded with my rapid explanation of dog food, cat biscuit and bird seed, along with various animal medications. She stayed whilst I ran around like a headless chook. I was so bloody grateful for her company, which prevented my anxiety from skyrocketing into low earth orbit.
I set off for Northam Hospital at five thirty. I was in the doors of their Emergency Department at six fifteen. Further discussions were being undertaken by the Northam doctors and Michael's new cardiologist. Another ambulance ride and admittance to Hollywood Hospital was the ultimate decision. After one false start, a delightful couple of lady ambos collected Michael and set off for Perth. I left just before them.
Our mission was to deliver him to the Cardiology Assessment Centre. I arrived in the front carpark just after nine-thirty and gathered our goods and chattels. Struggling to the reception desk, our young hero garnered support for me in the form of one of the orderlies, a fantastic operator named Rachel. Loaded like a pair of pack horses, we went in search of the Assessment Centre.
They were closed and Michael was nowhere to be found. Spotting a handy wheelchair, we dumped all our gear onto it and wondered what to do next. Michael was on his phone again, trying to explain where he was. Just then, our lady ambos appeared around the corner and led us in the right direction.
Apparently, the hospital had been none the wiser that Michael and I were arriving. Once that was sorted, a lovely large room on Murray Ward became our home away from home. The efficient Rachel reappeared with a fold-out bed for me. Admission and settling took quite some time and by eleven thirty, I was completely exhausted.
Sleep was not terribly marvellous but I didn't care. For the first time in over a week, I felt secure. Michael was being monitored. We were in hospital. The angiogram was booked. Hopefully, we will get some answers.
Today, I am still physically a bit the worse for wear. I drove over three hundred kilometres yesterday. Michael has been poked, prodded, listened to and ultrasounded. We have seen the specialist, the resident, the pharmacist, the rehab nurse, the cardiac ultrasound technician and the ward nurses. In between, he has slept. He has fasted from breakfast and his greatest worry is having his dinner held for him.
Finally, I lost my car keys for several hours today. They eventually turned up in Michael's computer bag. I have no recollection of placing them there. At least I could stop panicking about that.
Stay tuned for the next exciting instalment...
This is Pip...
Always alert...
Occasionally alarmed...
This is what he becomes at the vet's...
Complete with very sharp nails...
And a bad attitude!
This is a common view of hospitals...
with stylish sleepwear...
accommodating nurses...
and comedians on the staff...
Here is Michael waiting for his angiogram.
