My Boy is Home

I brought my big orange guy home yesterday. (You'll remember he's been in the vet hospital since Sunday last week.) Although we have the World's Best Vet, she has not been able to figure out why his glucose levels are bouncing all over the chart. But it seemed clear that she couldn't do much more at the clinic than I could do for him at home. So I brought him home yesterday.

We're back to the same regimen as last fall: I have to stick a needle in his ear frequently to make it bleed so that I can test his glucose level, then give him insulin based on the findings. When we were doing this back in the fall, I was hampered by paralysis in one hand. It's a little easier now, physically. I have better motor control. Still . . . it's hard to lure him onto my lap and then stick him.

And then there's this: My own motor control is not what it should be. Over the last couple of months, I've had a series of visits with my doc, then an EMG, then an MRI last week. Tomorrow, I'll have an "epidural steroid injection" … whatever that means.

So my boy and I are both kinda the walking wounded.