To Err Is Human

 

Two weeks ago, Dee Dee's fluids were greatly reduced after two or three days of a diuretic and the doctor put her on Vetmedin for her congestive heart failure. She continued to improve for a week or so. She was walking lively, eating, pooping regularly, sleeping and resting normally. We felt that we were on the right track. Then we began to notice about 3 or 4 days ago that she was starting to retain fluid again. She had a restless night and couldn't get comfortable. 

We remembered that the doctor had cut back her diuretic from 1 1/2 pills twice a day to 1 pill twice a day. The only thing we could think of to do over the holiday weekend was to go back to 1 1/2 pills of the diuretic to help flush the excess fluids like before. 

We began to suspect that the heart medicine wasn't working. The medicine is supposed to open up blood vessels in the heart to make it pump more efficiently without getting larger. This more efficient heart keeps fluids from pooling around the lungs and heart. Typically, dogs show improvement in a week and continue to improve thereafter. The medicine can prolong their lives from 6 months to 2 years.

I started doing research on the Internet and found that the usual dosage for the heart medicine was twice a day, but we had only been giving it to her once a day. We double checked her prescription and instructions and saw that she was supposed to be getting the heart medicine twice a day, not once. The Web stressed the importance of not skipping doses. Essentially, we've been giving her half of her needed medication for two weeks. We had simply misheard the oral instructions and didn't check the written ones.

So, here we are. I'm trying not to live in the past: "Dee Dee was on the road to better health, but I've botched it for her. How irresponsible!" John's trying not to live in the future: "I've killed my dog." We are trying to live in the present. The present says: "We made a mistake because we are human. Give her the correct dosage starting today because that's all you can do now. The medicine may still work once we get the dosage correct."

That's a start. But the present includes her not wanting to eat, trying to poop her guts out, not being able to get comfortable, and looking at us wagging her tail saying "I don't feel good. Help me."

We are anxious living in the present.  Our anxiety takes us directly to the past (for me) and to the future (for John). It always takes more courage to live in the present. I guess that's why we so readily seek ways to escape it.

The clouds reflect our state of mind.
I walked 4.4 miles today, biked 0.

"To err is human; to forgive divine."
--Alexander Pope, from the poem An Essay on Criticism, Part II, written in 1711.

Pope explains that humans make mistakes, but that we should aspire to do as God does and show mercy.