Rabbit Stew, Anyone...?

Well, I was about to post an update over the weekend about how swimmingly well Enzo has been doing with his gimp. We even re-introduced Enzo and Jack - and this was Jack's reaction:

Adorable, eh? Enzo of course didn't stick around long as we didn't want to over-tax him so we put him back upstairs in his tower prison (the 3rd floor). This was a Wednesday or Thursday... Well, Saturday night, Justin went to bed and I headed up to feed and love on Enzo a bit before I turned in too. I got up there and there was no movement in the cage. I couldn't even see Enzo -heard no scuffling or anything. Panicked, I called down to Justin to inform him that Enzo was NOT in the cage, somehow. I thought perhaps his brief taste of freedom had inspired a jail-break. Well, there's not much ON the 3rd floor, and he was neither under nor behind ANYTHING. So I called down to lazy bones... erm... Justin... that "Enzo is GONE!" Then I saw him... stuffed motionless in the tiny space between the outside of the cage and the inside of the white fence we use as an "outer enclosure" to the whole thing. As Justin was **finally** coming up the stairs, I gasped, "Oh my gosh I think he's dead!" As I pulled him out of the cage, he started moving in what seemed like a seizure and I amended to: "Oh no, he's not dead, he's dying!" Freaked out that I was hurting him, I set him on the floor and he just "swam" in place on his side, flopping and rolling and flopping, with his head at an impossible angle that made me want to call an Exorcist rather than a vet. Justin's head emerged at the top of the steps in time to see this and he about lost it too. It took me a second, but I scooped Enzo back up and held him tightly to keep him from flailing and realized that one eye was totally bugged out of the socket and one was all but shut and his face was droopy on that side, so I immediately thought he'd had a stroke. Then I thought he had possibly tried to escape, didn't make it due to his lame elbow, and broke his back. So I started trying to get him to use his muscles and found that he really had all of his strength and had control over the movement of his limbs. Poor Justin just sat there trying to figure out how this crap happens to us and what in the world we were going to do about it at 11:30 on a Saturday night after we'd each enjoyed a glass of wine. After the initial shock and panic wore off, I realized he had a condition I'd read about when I was trying to figure out what was wrong with our other bunny, Esmeralda... "wry neck" or "head tilt". I didn't know much about it, other than that it exists and that it's a symptom of something else. Not sure what to do at this point, I realized that Enzo hadn't eaten the pellets I'd given him the night before, so whatever went wrong had probably been wrong for about 24 hours or so... and that meant he hadn't had any water in at least that long. So we prioritized getting him some water. I passed Enzo to Justin, gave him the water bottle, and told him I was going to go get on the internet and see what I could find before we started calling emergency vets. Enzo seemed to be very grateful for the water and the security of being secured in Justin's lap, so down I went...

This head-tilt issue... usually it's from something like an ear infection, stroke, trauma, etc. or from a parasite that lives in the kindeys, reproduces, and migrates to other organs after trauma, dehydration or a compromised immune system called E. cuniculi, and when it resides in the brain, causes cysts that can cause, among other issues, head-tilt. The "flopping" issue isn't from loss of strength or control of the body, but a total inability to gain balance since the inner-ear can't regulate if a bun's head is turned 120 degrees to the left. I guess about 80% of rabbits are suspected to have the parasite, but in most cases, it never migrates or causes problems. I assume Enzo picked up the parasite when he was in the vet's office for his elbow, and it just hung out until recently and was probably triggered by the fact that his immune system has been working on fixing his elbow lately... he hasn't been exhibiting signs of an ear infection, didn't seem to have signs of a stroke... so I figured it was probably the parasite. Doing some more research indicated that dehydration can aggravate the growth of the parasite and cause it to accelerate, so I went upstairs and told Justin that this was the most likely scenario.

While I had been gone, Enzo drank a good amount of water and already his eye looked incredibly less buggy and he seemed to be calming down a bit. That he was responding to an increase in hydration also indicated to me that E. cuniculi was most likely the root cause. Once we had calmed ourselves down and satisfied ourselves that Enzo had consumed as much water as he was going to for the time being, we offered him some food (which he rejected) and decided it was best to just make him comfortable enough to rest peacefully until morning when we could reevaluate. In the morning, he seemed slightly better - certainly better than he had been when I first found him. In fact, he had moved himself a little bit around the cage. So we held him, gave him more water, offered him more food and decided to wait until Monday to get in touch with a vet, since all emergency vets are too far away for me to have been able to justify going that far from the hospital. All day Sunday we kept hydrating him, giving him lettuce, and holding him securely, until at least his eyes stopped spinning crazily around like he had just gotten off the Tea Cups. I called Monday, secured a Tuesday appointment, and continued nursing him and trying to keep him comfy. Last night, he seemed almost normal - was drinking on his own, and had eaten some pellets on his own, and this morning, he seemed very much like his old self, with a slightly tilted head that makes him actually very cute. He has a very quizzical look about him at all times right now. Combined with his right paw being held in a "duh" fashion across his chest and it's a very tragically funny sight.

Anyway, took him to the vet, and she agrees with me. Also said that giving him as much water as we have been is probably what's enabled him to come back around so quickly. She's never seen an E. cuniculi case of head-tilt respond so well without drugs in such a short time. So she gave me a 30-day course of anti-parasitic drug and told me he should make a pretty good recovery. Even if he doesn't progress beyond where he is TODAY, he will adapt fairly well and re-learn to walk, run, eat and drink and live a full, happy life. So, the good news is that I am not going to have to deal with 4x daily subcutaneous fluid injections and 4x daily syringe feedings and daily physical therapy sessions etc. to get him healthy again, as some people do. In that case, we'd be sending him to the light, I think. As it is, I was nearly hoping that she'd tell me he's dunzo... but he's not. It's (big) bump in the road, but we can get him back on track...

But really? Now? Can you imagine if I had still been in the hospital? Can you imagine that phone call from Justin? Lordy. Such a disaster. Once again, marvelous timing, Powers That Be.

Ugh, the Hospital Saga...

There is no way I am re-typing this one... You can read it on the baby page at http://www.babyhomepages.net/tummymonkey/music.php?t=stories.php or what I've copied/pasted below:

First of all, Happy Mother's Day to all the amazing Mommies in my life! Believe me, I know what an honor, a blessing, a gift, and (at times, like this weekend!) exhausting endeavor it is to define yourself as "Mommy". I could go on and on about it, but I'm pretty sure you'd rather just hear about this past weekend and what the heck happened that I was in prison the hospital for 72 hours...

On Friday, I had a regular OB appointment, though not with my own provider (Dr. Sheldon) because she has been temporarily deployed to one of the Red Cross ships, the Comfort, until May 16th. The doctor who saw me checked my cervix and saw it was at 4 cm and I had effaced a tiny bit more since my last cervical check - which was on the Sunday before when I was 3 cm. She said I should head over to Labor and Delivery Triage to have them check me again to make sure and to hook me up to the monitors for awhile to see that the babies were fine. It sounded reasonable, so I took my chart and headed down the hall. L&D was PACKED when I got there and Triage was backed up. I waited a little more than an hour (Justin was at home with Jack, so it was fine) and they took my vitals and listened to the girls' heart-rates and re-checked my cervix. Still at 4. So the nurse said they'd like to talk to the doctors and see what they say before giving me the green light to head home. That was fine. But it was also noon at this point and I hadn't eaten since 7 that morning and I knew that if they stuck me there for any amount of time, I wouldn't be able to eat anything at all. So I pleaded with them (probably my biggest mistake, in retrospect) to let me go grab some food. They said that was fine as long as I stayed in the building so I walked from L&D to Taco Bell, ate a good $10 of food there (which is fairly difficult to do, but figured if I was going to actually have babies, I'd want the calories since the worst part of a 22 hour labor with Jack was being hungry) and headed back. They re-checked me at that point and I was 5 cm dilated with no change in effacement, but Addison was at a 0 station (right AT the cervical opening, whereas -1,-2, etc. indicate the baby's head is further up in the uterus and +1, +2 etc. mean the head is past the cervical opening and in the birth canal) "Melissa, you're going to have some babies today! We're going to go ahead and admit you, yay!" The words "you're going to have some babies today" should be the most exciting words a giant pregnant woman hears and now I'm utterly and totally afraid to hear them out of another nurse's mouth until someone looks between my legs and sees baby hair fuzz. Anyway, they took me back to a L&D room and... put me in bed and hooked me up to the monitors. So if I had any "momentum" and was actually headed towards delivering these girlies, that killed it. For hours I sat there listening to their perfect heartbeats, watching the total and complete lack of contractions on the screen, feeling nothing but the numbness of my tush and growing frustration of being stalled with no hope of pitocin to help me get going. The doctors there are insisting the twins are still preemies (though my own doctor was calling them "full term" at 34 weeks) and will not help my labor along in any capacity - to include stripping my membranes. They had me stay over night in L&D and said they'd evaluate me in the morning to decide if I was actually in labor, if they were going to put me in another ward, 4-E, also known as "antepartum", or if I could just go home. Kasey was a trooper and brought me some McDonald's when they ascertained that I wasn't in labor enough to warrant NPO orders, and she sat with me and kept me company for awhile. I sent Justin home for most of this entire bunch of BS so he could be with Jack and maintain as much normalcy as possible for the poor kiddo; I knew nothing exciting was going to happen. Besides, we live 3 stoplights away... 10 minutes if you stop at each one.
Monitors hooked up over night, continuous fluids, IV penicillin in case the Group B Strep test came back positive... vitals every 2 hours... It was a long, exhausting night of absolutely nothing constructive happening. The girls' heart rates were fine, I wasn't contracting... in general, it was pointless torture. Saturday morning they decided I could move to 4-E because they refused to send me home at 5 cm. The only way anything would change is if a) I dilated to 6 or 7 cm on my own or b) my water broke. Otherwise, it was sit and wait. But sit and wait IN THE HOSPITAL. Keep in mind, at this point, I hadn't seen Jack in a full 24 hours, and the last time I did see him, I was looking at the back of his head as I snuck out the kitchen door to my appointment. The ache in my heart was worse than any contraction I ever felt during my labor with him. Even now looking back on how horrendous it was to be away from him makes me queasy.

Anyway, they moved me to this other room - no real TV, a window that looked out on a roof and a/c unit and got no sunshine, and the most heinous excuse for 3 square meals I've ever seen in my life. Oh, and a roommate. As soon as I got to the room, I called Justin and made him bring me my Jack. I can't even begin to describe what it was like to see him again. I can't. I have no words. It was simply amazing. While Justin was there, we ascertained that, contrary to what I had been told initially (that I wasn't allowed to leave the bed, let alone the room), I had orders to walk at least 3 times a day and was permitted to walk around the hospital grounds. The nurse even told me that "when they write orders like that, it's generally because they want to see if there is any change from walking and if not, going home becomes an option." So we instantly scooped Jack up and went walking, hoping against hope that either there would be no change or I'd just break some water and we could get the show on the road. I FELT NOTHING. No contractions, no change in Addie's station, nothing. Jack looked exhausted, so I walked the boys back to the parking garage, buckled Jack into his car seat so he could go home and nap, and watched them drive away. It was gut-wrenching. As I was buckling Jack he pointed at the passenger seat and said, "Mama, sit. Sit dere." All I could do was kiss his sweet little face and try to smile at him. (I already knew at this point that I couldn't handle 3 weeks of this shit nonsense.) Went back in to the room and rested until Justin came back with Jack for dinner and more walking. Again, Jack demanded I sit in the passenger seat when I put him in the car seat. Meanwhile, on the labor front, STILL NO CHANGE. I had to spend another night there... This time I had one of Jack's blankies, but it didn't do a thing to soothe my frustration and loneliness.

Justin called before he put Jack to bed because Jack kept pointing at the phone and saying, "Mama!" So they called and Justin asked Jack, "What's Mama doing?" and Jack replied, "Mama with babies." It was amazing to hear him chattering away on the phone. He got on and told me all about the birds eating their "Nummahs" (his word for good food) and the stars in the sky and the boats in the water and everything he could think of. I think I should mention here that Justin did an amazing job - an i ndescribably amazing job adjusting to being thrust into the role of a single father with a tot and house to care for. When I got home there were no massive piles of laundry sitting around, not food piled up on the counter and no dishes in the sink. He and Jack played and spent great time together, and I am so blessed to have both of them in my life. Anyway, I went to bed that night, needless to say, with the heaviest emptiness I've ever felt in my heart at the prospect of 3 weeks without my son.

The whole day we had been discussing the possibility of leaving AMA (against medical advice) and what that would mean for me, the twins, our insurance, etc. and had come to the decision that if, by Sunday morning, we couldn't convince someone to let me leave, I was going to go ahead and check out AMA. The biggest fear was that doing so would mean Tricare was unwilling to pay for the delivery. Once we found that isn't the case, I was 100% convinced that being at home in my environment would absolutely be the best thing for all 5 of us. By 6 am Sunday, I had convinced a few nurses and even one of the doctors (but unfortunately, not his superior) that I was better off at home. Eventually, the "head" doctor finally came in to talk to me and I explained my position and he just looked at me and said no. I'll sum up both sides of the argument:

Medical Staff:
1. I could progress to 10 cm, not know it, have 2 contractions and deliver the babies en route to the hospital and both could perish. 2. I can be continuously monitored in the hospital. 3. Labor can progress MUCH faster with 2nd pregnancies and especially with twins. 4. I would be able to rest and relax there and be "taken care of".

Me:
1. There is no way I will not notice SOMETHING different between 5-10 cm. 2. We live incredibly close to the hospital and if worst comes to worse, we live a block and a half from the Portsmouth FD and can call 911. 3. Two 6-lb babies will not simply fall out of me. 4. If labor was going to progress SO MUCH FASTER with this pregnancy, I probably would have seen SOME change over the course of the 4.5+ miles we walked over a day and a half and the 72 hours I sat around waiting for something to happen. 5. "Resting" and "relaxing" are beyond impossible in a hospital, especially with a roommate. 6. I didn't see a single fresh veggie or piece of fresh fruit the whole time I was there. "Whole grain" wasn't even an option, let alone, "wheat" instead of "white" bread. Everything was over cooked so any nutrients were totally gone, replaced with sodium for "flavor". I couldn't eat the food and therefore replaced 2 of 3 meals with McDonalds, Taco Bell, etc. which was unhealthy AND expensive. 7. Child care for Jack? 8. By the third visit he was starting to act up and I knew that the day would come (probably in the next 3) when he refused to come see me and that would not only break my spirit entirely, but make what will already be a difficult transition even worse. 9. With Jack's labor and delivery, it took over 12 hours, 9 of them on Pitocin, 6 of them on the MAXIMUM dose of Pitocin, to get me to progress from 5-6 centimeters AFTER my water had broken. 10. My mental, spiritual and emotional health are just as important at this stage of pregnancy as my physical health. 11. Delivering the twins in 2 contractions and having both perish on the floor of the van is the worst case, least likely scenario and I cannot live my life basing my decisions on that one potential outcome. I would not get in a car or handle sharp objects or leave my house without a biohazard suit if that were the case. 12. I know my body. I can feel minute changes in what the girls are doing. I know what it feels like when Addie's head is at a 0 station versus a -3 station. I'm responsible enough to go back to the hospital the second anything weird happens AT ALL. 13. I can't rank my children in importance; Jack and his well-being is in no way less important to me than the girls'. They are safe and comfortable (clearly) and happy in utero, and I will keep them there until they schedule my induction at 38 weeks. In the meantime, Jack needs me as much as I need him.

The nasty old crotchety Dr. Ayers just scoffed, asked me if I wanted dead babies and said I'm not allowed to leave unless I sign an AMA form. I could have punched him. So we began the process of checking out AMA. After being "counseled" by the Officer of the Day, the Nurse of the Day, several doctors, several other nurses, Officer of the Day again, having them ask to speak with Justin's command, speaking with our command ourselves, and signing my name on one measly little line, I was out of there by nap time on Sunday. We came home and relaxed and snuggled and played and did some yard-work and everything was wonderful. I haven't felt a contraction the whole time, I'm getting rest, my feet are up most of the day, I sent Justin back to work, and life is good.

When I sat down in the passenger seat of the van after strapping Jack in to his seat, he started clapping and shouted, "YAY! Mama sit! Mama home!" and I LOST it. I have cried so much over the last few days from the roller coaster of emotion it is unbelievable. I got him up after his nap on Sunday and he just looked up at me from his bed and said, "Mama... you here." Sunday's bedtime and Monday's nap time were a bit of a struggle I think because he was afraid I wouldn't be here when he woke up. I lay in his bed with him yesterday morning and he put his hand on my cheek and said very sternly, "Mama. No more doctor. Stay here." I started crying and he used the back of his hands to wipe my eyes and he patted my cheek and said, "S'okay... whatsamatter? S'okoay." and he kissed my nose. I just told him I love him and I'm sorry I left him and he just sat there for a minute. I composed myself as quickly as I could and he said, "Better?" When I said, "yep, thank you Jack," he jumped up, grabbed Eeyore and demanded we go play trains.

I'm still catching up on all the lost sleep and trying to make up for the emotional exhaustion of the whole ordeal, but I'm happy, comfortable and content now. So we wait.
Probably another 2.5 weeks.

I will be miserably huge at that point...

But we'll wait. At home.

Slipcovers, Burp Cloths, Bugs and Pink & Brown

It's been awhile... didn't want you to forget how adorable Jack is.
Jack's carpenter bee BFF

Misty's ADORABLE burpcloths (and part of my campaign against Justin's insistence that a crazy embroidery/sewing machine isn't necessary)

Seriously? SO CUTE.

Girls' crib - all set up and ready for babies!

Here's the nursery... still needs stuff on the walls. You can see the slipcovered ottoman in the front left... I also upholstered the shelves over the changing table in the same fabric as the chair.

The back of the chair... I wanted buttons instead of bows, but I couldn't find a button store.

The newly slipcovered chair... this isn't a great picture, but there are matching bows on the front.

So that's where my time has been going lately. Sewing slipcovers by hand, setting up my pink and brown nursery, playing with Jack and his bugs and doing all of it at a snail's pace because I'm so overly extraordinarily preg.

Showers, Doctors, a Rabbit and a Padded Room

So apparently my BFFs decided to throw me a surprise baby shower last weekend. Totally worked because I had no idea. Justin was in on it, so was Morgan and pretty much everyone I know, thanks to Kasey and Amber's tenacity. I'm just sorry more people couldn't make it from out of town - I miss you guys! I can't even begin to give thanks and shout-outs to everyone for their sweet gifts and awesome contributions on this blog because I know I'll leave someone out - but needless to say, the "Galla-girls" (How cute is that?! It was on the invitations!) are hooked up to the max for just about everything. I even have a bunch of amazing guy friends from college who got together on the high-chair we've been wanting forever! But aside from all the cute pink goodies, it was really REALLY awesome to connect with the wives on our boat that I haven't met or haven't seen in forever, and to hang out with other lady friends from around the area WITHOUT a kid to worry about and just gab. Well, gab and eat. It was an awesome surprise and I feel so SO fortunate to have the incredible friends I do. I'm done or I'm going to get sappy. But it rocked.

And it's a good think it happened when it did. I'm 33 weeks, and had a doctor's appointment yesterday, kicking off the super-duper fun span of once-a-week appointments from here on out. There are times when I feel like I HAVE to be close and other times when I'm positive they're going to have to schedule an induction for 38 weeks. Thus far I'm fine - mild contractions occasionally, puffy legs and ankles, ONE solitary stretch mark (damnit) on my hip, a wonky bikini line, and an outty belly button... the chunksters are still head-down and growing well. One more week and I'll have avoided bed rest ENTIRELY! Woot! After 34 weeks they don't try to stop labor if the girls want out.

Luckily I finished the chair. Just need to quickly get the ottoman done, get the shelves and curtains put up, and we're in business. Pictures of nursery to follow in the next week or so.

And finally, Enzo seems to be doing really well. I weaned his dumb ass off of his pain meds when I realized he was jumping up on top of the cardboard box I had put in his cage. Not only that, but he was digging at the top of the box and chewing chunks of cardboard off it. Come on, dude couldn't have been in THAT much pain. Besides, he was getting slightly addicted to the meds (to the point where he'd rip the syringe out of my hand when I put it near his mouth, hop away with it and fiendishly chew/lick/suck on it.) He seems to be eating just fine and has pretty good spirits. I'm going to let him run around on the 3rd floor this evening for awhile and see how he does and if it hurts, he might get another (small!) dose of his meds. The elbow feels like a giant lump and he holds his arm across his chest like a... well... you can picture it. It's funny. I make a "duuuuuuurrrrr" noise at him whenever I see him because, well, it seems appropriate.

Once his stupid self is fixed enough to rejoin the family downstairs (AFTER the girls get here) he'll be happy to note that I've replaced the coffee table of death with a cheapie ottoman-style mini coffee table from Bed Bath and Beyond. It looks a little goofy because it's about a third the size of the wrought-iron/slate one that claimed his elbow, but it's entirely safe for toddlers and rabbits alike and therefore has my anxiety level WAY down. Jack has taken up dancing as one of his favorite activities - and his brand of dancing includes lots of spinning, jumping and head-banging. I can't even describe how many times he has nearly taken a header into the table and I have a small heart attack every time it happens, so I finally put my foot down, made Justin hide our beautiful table in our bedroom, and splurged on the ottoman. People, we are a few VERY SMALL steps away from having a padded room. Keep that in mind. That's where I'm at with my life right now. Padded rooms.

Anyway, off to go start my day and enjoy "Melissa Time" before the tot gets up!

The Attack of the Giant Blob

Pretending I like this situation. (Kidding - I'm really excited!)

Additionally horrifying about this picture (as if the gigantic belly isn't enough) is how sickly I look. Somehow I'm battling the worst allergies of my life, laryngitis, an infected wisdom tooth and 44 pounds of extra weight between my shirt and jeans and inside my arms.

If. I. Hear. One. More. Person. Tell. Me. I. Am. Skinny. I. Will. Sit. On. Them.

I recognize I'm not grotesquely obese. HOWEVER comma I really do not think "skinny" is a fair term to use to someone who cannot see anything from about elbow-height down. And skinny people do not have obscene amounts of pain in their lower body caused by the copious amount of weight in the upper body.

Also, don't tell me about how this has flown by. It has not. At all. I have been pregnant for 90% of my life right now and if you try to tell me otherwise, I will sit on you AND suffocate you under the wonder that is The Belly.

(If you want details and specific medical stuff on babies, check out the baby page - link on the right!)

Update

So it's looking like the best course of action for the apparently shattered and most-assuredly-least-lucky-ever rabbit foot is amputation.

Depending on cost, of course.

I wonder if they'll let me keep the severed foot. And those furry keychains will FOREVER haunt me after this ordeal.

There Are No Words...

...to describe the incalculable depths of my fury and frustration. I am not a huge fan of venting on my blog because you don't want to read about my crappy life, but tough. Today, I want your day to be as crappy as mine. Today is one of those days where I see happy, smiley people and I want them to stub a toe or start their period in white jeans or discover 4 flat tires on their car.

My stupid, worthless ass of a rabbit launched himself off of the couch yesterday after a random spaz attack and skidded on the wood floor into the wrought-iron coffee table leg. Hard. And broke his paw/leg/arm thing. Or so I thought. But I couldn't feel a fracture and neither could the vet. So they're thinking nerve damage? What?

But we won't know anything for sure until after $360 worth of diagnostics. By that I mean $65.00 for the exotic pet vet visit; $5.00 for biohazard waste removal(?); $118 for sedation during the xrays; $140 for the xray itself and some $30 for pain killers.

AND WE HAVEN'T EVEN GOTTEN TO *TREATMENT* YET.

Here's the thing. Esmeralda, the girl bun we had a few years ago as Enzo's mate, cost us $780 in vet bills when she passed away. She had a condition from birth, we took her in, it was apparently a lost cause (did they tell us this? no.) but they continued to drag it out over 5 days by telling us she had a 50/50 chance (just to rack up the bill) and she died anyway. So my thinking is this: if this ordeal gets to the $780 mark, I'm going to tell them thanks, but just go ahead and kill the bastard.

He weighs 4lbs 4oz. You cannot TELL me that a ball of fur that weighs that little and doesn't respond to his name is worth anywhere NEAR that much money.

Seriously. I am irate and want to eat the head off of every "cute" little chocolate Easter bunny I see. Out of spite and overwhelming need for chocolate in copious quantities.

Let me not even get into the temper tantrum that Jack threw as we left the vet's office when he realized we were abandoning Enzo there...

And then you see how happy Jack is to snuggle with Enzo (this was taken about 30 minutes before the "incident") and you realize that I'm just stuck with this whole crappy situation. Argh.