The last several weeks have been a bit tough, not gonna lie. I've started, deleted, and re-started multiple posts multiple times in another case of I need to get the words out because that's how I deal. I'm not generally the wear my heart on my sleeve type who shares everything, however, and when you throw in a touch of get over it already
Fuck epilepsy. And no, I won't apologize for my language. I had been looking forward to writing a post in a few weeks to mark the 1st anniversary of Cian's epilepsy diagnosis. Not because that was something to celebrate, but because his life since then was something to celebrate. I would have talked about the fact he was thriving and living large despite the monster lurking in the shadows. That post would have been full of hope. I would have told you how Cian spent the weekend of the farm trial being the sort dog. How he was really learning the job of working in the chute and finally hit a heel. How more and more, each day, he did something so Jig-like it was scary. I would have laughed about his two special friends, both named Sunni, who he loved to wrestle and romp with. How each morning he waited for me to toss him an ice cube so he
I suck at living in the moment. Cian's been trying his damndest to teach me. I have failed. What can I say? I'm human. I obsess about shit. Shit that happened, is happening, may happen, could never possibly happen but WHAT IF IT DID???? My latest obsession comes courtesy of Cian's FitBark. I sync the phone app to it whenever I'm in range, and check it frequently, comparing what he has done to the data being displayed. I find it fascinating and hope the UW's study will find it equally so. A somewhat normal day for Cian might look like this: Active quite a bit and sleeping good at night. I'm not certain how the FitBark differentiates between Play and Active. There are times I think it should register other than it does but I haven't researched that part yet. Compare that to this readout from the 20th when Cian had a seizure during the
I was doing some website updates, transferring domain names, switching servers, panicking when I thought I lost everything… again, etc. etc. and suddenly realized it's been over a month since my last post here. Yikes, right? But, you know… And then there's been this stretch of heat and humidity which are two of my most unfavorite things. Okay, enough with the gifs, that's not what any of us are here for. Let's see, short recap; my last post was about how I was talked out of benching Jig and only running her in farm trials because I wasn't having the success I thought I wanted. Since then, a second person whose opinion I value, concurred with the first. Actually, several folks concurred. So, I'm sticking with it and with Jig because I have a lot to learn yet. Jig has some stuff to learn as well. Stuff I should have taught her
I have been holding off posting an update on Cian because I didn't want to tempt Fate. I figured if I didn't say he was doing awesome, Fate would turn a blind eye and leave us be. Apparently, just the thought was enough. After 4 months seizure free, Cian clustered. Six seizures in an hour and a half by the time I could get him to the ER. He spent the night there, and the fragile normalcy we had built shattered. I accept Cian will never be seizure free. I could handle one or two seizures a couple times a year. Watching him have one after another with next to no time to recover in between is like having someone reach into my chest and rip my heart out. It was a fool's hope that phenobarbital alone would manage his epilepsy, but we held it nonetheless. It seems, however, when working breeds get hit with this, they get hit hard. All
Sometimes, shit happens. No rhyme or reason. Nothing you could have done to prevent it. Shit just happens. Like a storm, it can pass quickly with minimal damage, or rage on leaving you feeling beaten and dragged. All you can do is ride it out, collect the pieces afterwards, and move forward. Our storm hit on an otherwise normal Friday afternoon at the beginning of November when Cian began to seizure. Not just one, but four on that first Friday. They would continue until the following Monday night before we were able to break the cycle. Over the next two weeks there were numerous consultations and trips to our vet, the ER vet, and a neurologist. There were many tests, a barrage of drugs, and long, sleepless nights. For a stretch of a couple weeks we feared Cian wouldn't come back to us. We tip-toed around the fear that the kindest