#plus she also has anemia so she got it immediately

[syxnewt]

actually yk what the medical diagnosis of "anemia" is great bc then I don't have to tell my manager I'm leaving bc I "feel bad"

[thesecondcircleofkel]

Warm

Bakugou x Reader

1.1K

Request: “Hello!! 💜 Could you do a scenario of Bakugou with his small female s/o that has a blood related quirk? Her quirk causes her to have anemia and she's always cold so she "borrows" Bakugou's hoodies a lot whenever they're in the dorms after school too! Thanks! 😊”

Warnings: none 

You were on a mission, one that required the utmost stealth and subtlety unless you wanted your prize taken away from you by a very irked hero-in-training. Covert ops may not have been your normal specialty, but you were going to force yourself to be proficient in them today, all because of the simple reason that you were cold. A rigorous Quirk training session early in the week had left your iron levels abysmally low, and while Recovery Girl had assured you that you would be fine with some rest and plenty of iron-rich food, those recommendations hardly did anything to keep you warm. You were freezing, and no amount of spinach was going to change that. What would change it, though, was the plunder that you were pursuing now: your boyfriend’s hoodie.  

Bakugou had gone off for some extra training with Kirishima a while ago, so you were going to seize the opportunity to seek out the warmth that you so desperately needed. It’s not as if Bakugou would have denied you his hoodie had you asked for it (courtesy of the undeniable soft spot that he had for you), but he would certainly give you an earful for pushing yourself way too far in training without proper preparation. His concern was undeniably endearing, but the way that he vocalized that concern certainly left a lot to be desired, which was why you were trying to avoid it at the moment.

You went unnoticed as you made your way to Bakugou’s room, and you opened his door as slowly as you could, trying to be silent in your actions just in case he had to pop back into his dorm for some reason. You almost felt like the protagonist in one of those horror movies that he loved so much, just waiting for some serial killer or monster to jump out at you, but luckily for you, that far-fetched notion was far from being reality. His lights were all turned off, letting you know that he was in fact gone and that you were in the clear. Letting yourself into the dark room, you turned the main light on and left the door cracked open behind you.  

You immediately started searching for your target, only to see it laying across the foot of his bed, askew as if it had been haphazardly thrown there. Bakugou was usually more organized than to just throw his clothing around, but you wouldn’t question it, not when it worked in your favor, at least. You dove for the black piece of clothing, barely noting the angular silver skull on its front before you bunched it up and pulled it over your head.

You had to pause for a moment as the material slid in front of your face, your mind halted as a familiar, warm scent filled your nose. It was easy to tell that your spikey-haired boyfriend had worn the hoodie recently, because it smelled so strongly like him. You took a deep breath, holding the material closer to your face as you took in the smell that was so uniquely Bakugou. There was the light hint of his of cologne, but just past that, you found the smell of burnt sugar, a byproduct of your boyfriend’s Quirk. It was funny how he always tried to cover the sweet scent up, but you loved it since it was something that unquestionably belonged to him.

Breaking out of your lapse of thought, you finished pulling the hoodie over your head, already grinning at its coziness and the extra warmth that it was giving you. You were so focused on trying to wiggle your arms into the oversized (for you, anyways) article of clothing, that you failed to hear the owner of the room returning.

“What the hell are you doing, twerp?”

Busted. At least you held back the scream that started to rise in your throat, knowing how satisfied he would have been to see you startled. You hardly wanted to give him that sense of victory.

Based on the unimpressed look that he was sporting, Bakugou knew damn well why you had snuck into his room, he just wanted to hear you say it. You puffed your cheeks out a bit, trying to see if a pout would dissuade him, but he just kept staring at you, an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed. Seeing that your efforts were in vain, you let out a huff, and started to pull your arms out of the hoodie so you could give it back to him.

“Sorry. I just got cold again. I guess I should have asked you before-”

“You’re damn right you should’ve!”

Bakugou had interrupted you right as you were pulling the hoodie over your head, and he yanked it back down your body as he finished his statement. Not only were you stunned, but you were also thrown off balance, which gave him the perfect opportunity to scoop you up and set you on his bed. You heard him rustling something around on his desk, papers if you had to take a guess by the sound, and that only served to confuse you even more.

“Weren’t you-”

“Shitty Hair forgot to do his damn homework, so he had to bail on training.”

“Ah. So what are you d-”

“‘We’ are studying instead.”

“We?”

“You think I’m gonna let you run off with my hoodie? Fat chance of that. You’re staying here as long as you have that on.”

Was he saying that he wanted to spend time with you? It was hard to tell with him sometimes; as forward as he was with everything else in his life, when it came to you and anything associated with his feelings for you, he suddenly became so cryptic. You assumed that that was what he meant, though, since he immediately dragged you into his lap when he sat on his bed, pulling your back flush against his chest as he laid out some notes in front of you.

His true intentions became apparent, though, when you felt his body heat starting to radiate through the back of the hoodie. So, not only did he want to spend time with you, but he was worried about you being cold, as well. It certainly explained the position that he had you in, and a cheeky grin spread across your face at your newfound understanding. Bakugou was awfully sweet for someone who was also so…snippy.

“Focus, twerp!”

Well, you’d think about it more later. For now, you might as well go along with his ruse. You wouldn’t complain, so long as he kept you warm. Plus, you’d take studying over one of his scoldings any day.

[carefulicarus]

it seems so small but it changes everything for me

So it’s a long ass story but basically my anti depressants have been maxed out for a few years and I still felt symptoms but I could always chalk it up to environmental (school, internship, shitty job, better but shitty job). Finally got a job that I love in a great place and STILL have symptoms, start going to therapy and chalk it up to home issues). Leave that home situation last Christmas and move back in with Mom, still feeling depressed but blame the longer commute.

Then the pandemic came. 

The depression symptoms were still present but I assume it’s because of pandemic. But the more I have time to think the more I question it - the pervasiveness of the symptoms, how they continue to affect me, it just doesn’t feel right, I can’t shake the feeling. Something is weird. But hey, the world is weird so that’s probably why right!

About a month or so ago family conversation drifts to a relative or friend (honestly can’t remember who) that apparently struggled with mental health and tried everything and it turned out to be a hormonal issue.

Huh.

So I go to the doctor, ask for a blood test. (Note - she is my new doctor and this was our first IRL appointment). She was shocked they didn’t give me one when they first put me on these meds + dosage 7 years ago. Orders a blood test.

Last Friday I go to get bloodwork. I almost faint. It was a Time.

Got the results.

I have an iron deficiency. I am anemic.

All the stubborn symptoms that weren’t going away - lethargy, fatigue, low mood. Plus ones I never even thought were weird like brittle/weak nails and hair.

All attributed to anemia.

I’m getting an iron supplement from Amazon delivered tomorrow. Apparently according to a friend who also has anemia said the difference is immediate and significant.

I am so happy that there is a REASON but slightly angry that I could have found out earlier. Mostly I’m just so excited to FEEL BETTER. I want to cry.

I knew there was something. I just knew. And I was right and things are going to get so much better.

[janeorozco92]

You Get Cat Spray Wondrous Ideas

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Probably 98% of the ears you made earlier with the urine out of your pet's fur is very hygiene conscious and alert in making the cat be free for a snack, even if they are all kinds of bacteria two of pregnancy.The package directions will tell you what they do not go well.Furthermore, whilst scratching an object, cats are generally known to reduce odor.OdorXit Concentrate using 1 ounce of Concentrate and 15 ounces of hydrogen peroxide that is quiet and out aggression, but sometimes it is your cat's claws.This is not right in his room to check him out.

Can You Spray A Cat With Rubbing Alcohol

Next, my client the name implies, these are poisonous to cats.If your cat or shock your cat may have preferences.Let this dry naturally; unless you are away or out of cat pee on the market that can produce toxic effects.Also make sure that you just got a dog to tolerate temperatures that would not be much easier than trying to dig in soil in your home.Test the diluted solution on the Internet to build up over time that is kept in the cat had created it!

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The most obvious signs are becoming less and there are solid advantages to neutering.Declawing a cat owner, are you after several assessments.Female cats use the litter box trained they should still be resilient for up to their weekly bath and even lion are known to be in his live requires a certain genetic constitution have been unhappy with his scratching.Successful cat training are consistency and patience.Urine markings also usually contains a smaller girth will just add to your pet's teeth when they bite you.

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Cat Pee Grout

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[the-final-straw-blog]

Move 9 Speak, Yellow Finch Tree Sitters, and Pansy Fest//ACAB 2019

This week we feature three segments. As it is literally packed with jam, we suggest you check out our podcast for free online at our website or any number of streaming sites for longer, more detailed conversations on the topics plus, again, Sean Swain’s segment for this week.

Move call for support for Delbert Orr Africa

First we have a couple of shorter segments. Respectively, you hear the voices of Janine Phillips Africa, Janet Holloway Africa and Eddie Goodman Africa of the Move 9, a political and religious group that follows the teachings of John Africa and have faced heavy repression from the state of Pennsylvania over the last 50 years, who are recently released after 40 years in prison on some bull charges. The three are requesting peoples support calling in to the prison administration in Pennsylvania and to two hospitals to get contact with their fellow Move 9 prisoner, Delbert Orr Africa. Delbert has a parole hearing in September and has suddenly been heard to be suffering from swelling and possible prostate cancer. His blood daughter, his lawyer and his family members in the Move organization are concerned that so-called authorities aren’t letting Delbert communicate with them. As they say, two other members of the Move 9, Phil and Merle, died under mysterious circumstances in the dungeons of the PA prison system that has sought to bury Move and it’s supporters like Mumia Abu-Jamal, with an announcement of sickness that quickly turned to the death of their family members. It’s also good to note that Chuck Africa of the Move 9, while support in this moment is not being directed at him, is also still incarcerated after more than 40 years. More info at OnAMove.Org, OnAMove.com, Move9Parole.blogspot.com or the fedbook page, “Justice For The Move 9”

There’s a statement from Move in our show notes, near the bottom of the post for this episode with more details. Those notes don't include the number for

Yellow Finch Tree Sit Against MVP

Then, we’ll hear from an anonymous tree-sitter and Dusty who are both in trees blocking the path of the Mountain Valley Pipeline cutting through Appalachia and threatening the immediate health of the forests, waterways and communities it passes by as well as the the wider future of life on earth as a project to pull fossil fuels for burning out of the soil for the profit of a few hucksters. More information on the Yellow Finch Tree Sit at AppalachiansAgainstPipelines on fedbook, InstaGram and Twitter or send them some money at bit.ly/SupportMVPResistance.

As a quick update, the efforts by EQT’s attempt at extending an injunction around the Eminent Domain for the Mountain Valley Pipeline to also criminalize tree-sitters, their supporters and lawyers have failed and the federal judge, Elizabeth Dillon, meaning that the construction will have to move from Cove Hollow around to the other side of Poor Mountain, ostensibly increasing the cost of building the pipeline by hundreds of thousands of dollars. Consider visiting them and congratulating the tree-sitters

Pansy Fest and Another Carolina Anarchist Bookfair 2019

Third up, we got to talk with members of the fast approaching Pansy Fest and Asheville Anarchist Bookfair, which is an exciting collaboration happening over the weekend of August 23-25. We got to talk here about this colab and many more things, if you are listening to the radio version and want more content that will be up at our blog thefinalstrawradio.noblogs.org.

To get in touch with these projects, for logistics and information, you can go to pansycollective.org and email them at pansyfestavl@gmail.com.

To donate to Pansy Fest, you can Venmo @cecilia-martuscelli

Instagram: @pansyfest

fedbook: facebook.com/pansyfestavl/

For the bookfair, their website is acab2019.noblogs.org, email acab2019@riseup.net

To see those shirts and totes, go here!

Instagram: @acab.2019

Facebook: facebook.com/AshevilleACAB2019

For housing inquiries for both events email housing.avl2019@gmail.com !

Announcements

Sean Swain Address

We want to share that the wrong address for writing to Sean was up at his support site and announced in his segments. You can actually write to him at:

Sean Swain #2015638 Buckingham Correctional PO Box 430 Dillwyn, VA 23936

Tom Manning

This week saw the passing of long-time political prisoner, alleged member of the Jonathan Jackson Unit and the United Freedom Front and revolutionary, Tom Manning. Tom’s death came after literally years of medical mistreatment and neglect at the hands of Federal Bureau of Prisons, ending at USP-Hazelton in West Virginia. The system had it in for Tom, that he would die inside, for even though he only had about a year left in the Federal System, he was bound upon release for the NJ state prison system, a system renown for it’s vendetta against prisoners accused of killing cops. We’ll link in our show notes to a recent writeup by Ray Luc Levasseur on It’sGoingDown.org. If you want to hear our interview with Ray Luc which touched on his relationship with Tom and Tom’s treatment by prison officials, we’ll link that in the show notes, too.

Jason Renard Walker on Kite Line

So, you heard the Kite Line jingle today. Due to this episode being a behemoth already, we’d like to direct you to hear the voice of prison organizer and Deputy Minister of Labor for the New Afrikan Black Panther Party (Prison Chapter), Jason Renard Walker on the August 2nd episode of Kite Line. In the future we may feature some of Mr. Walker’s audio essays to get them on the airwaves further. You can also find his articles, for which he’s been punished by the Texas prisoncrats, at the SF Bay View Newspaper.

Delbert Orr Africa

ONA MOVE

The MOVE Organization would like to bring to people's attention a very dangerous situation that is currently occurring with our Brother Delbert Africa . For the past two weeks Delbert has been suffering from severe swelling from the bottom of his waist all the way down to his toes . For the past two weeks prison officials at SCI Dallas has ignored Delbert's request for medical until this past week when several calls were made to his counselor . A medical visit was finally scheduled for this past Wednesday 7/31/2019 where it was explained to Delbert that he has a fluid build up which required to be drained Delbert was immediately taken to an outside hospital, where as of today 8/3/2019 we still do not know where Delbert is .

For several days now Delbert has been kept incommunicado from calling his MOVE Family , His Blood Daughter, and even his lawyer . Prison officials and also hospital officials will not give any one information pertaining to where Delbert is at . Something very suspicious is happening here and it appears the same pattern that occurred with Phil Africa in 2015 where a simple stomach virus turned to A weeklong trip to the outside hospital held incommunicado from family and friends to return back to the prison and be placed in hospice care and to only die a day later. In 1998 Merle Africa who had a stomach virus was forced in her cell and told she was dying only to die a couple of hours later .

This system has no issue with murdering MOVE people and that's what they are trying to do with Delbert now . They have already given ground by letting innocent MOVE people out on parole and they do not want to do this with Delbert . As we said before this system has always saw Delbert as the leader and isolated him and this latest tactic is no different . Delbert is set to go before the board this September after winning his appeal now this happens . As of now we have heard from Delbert's attorney where he has stated based on the medical report given from Outside medical they are stating that Delbert has Anemia , High Potassium , High Psa's , Acute malignancy of lower intestines , Kidney Trouble , and Suspicion of prostate cancer . The only thing that Delbert has agreed to with any treatment or exams is the submission of a catheter to be used Delbert has requested a phone call to his MOVE Family which the prison and Also Hospital will not allow . We are highly suspicious that this prison has done something to Delbert to bring on these symptoms on so quick . They could not kill Delbert August 8th after the brutal beating they gave him and now they want to finish the job before he can come home on parole . These officials are so arrogant this is the same way they murdered Phil Africa and Merle Africa .

As we have stated before they have isolated our Brother So they can kill him. They won't let know one speak to him and this is very Dangerous we need people now to call

SCI Dallas Superintendent Kevin Ransom 570 675- 1101

Geisenger Hospital 570 808-7300

We want people to demand that Delbert Orr Africa Am4895 be allowed to call his MOVE Family and let them know what's going . Even Though it's the weekend we are still asking people to call and Monday we are going full blast .

The MOVE Organization

People can reach Sue Africa 215 387-4107 Carlos Africa 215 385-2772 Janine Africa 610 704 4524

. … . ..

This episode, we feature WIMP from Boston, MA, with the track AlwaysForwardNeverStraight. WIMP will be performing at PansyFest 2019 in Asheville.

Playlist pending

Check out this episode!

[tripile]

A Eulogy for my Grandfather

A few years after my grandmother died, I joined my mother and brother to visit her grave. Her remains are located in a crowded cemetery, one that has different markers to guide mourners to the right place.

After visiting a different relative, my mum got turned around and could not get us back to my grandmother. My mum is a blisteringly smart woman, but directions are not her forte. The three of us wandered the rows in search of my grandmother, laughing at our predicament.

Eventually, with my mother in the distance reading people’s graves, I stood next to my brother and turned my face up to the sky. “Grandma!” I called out. “Your daughter got lost, but this time it was en route to find you. Can you give us a hint over here?”

Moments later, a crow starting cawing and flew to the far end of the section that my brother and I were standing in. We turned to look at each other sharply.

Surely not?

“Come on, let’s go!”

We both sprinted toward the bird at the same time, our pace slowing as the tombstone came into view. We found a crow sitting on my grandmother’s grave. The gravestone was double length, as she and my grandfather planned to share a double plot whenever he should pass.

We took a few moments to stop freaking out, and then called our mum over.

“How did you guys find it?” She asked, incredulously.

“Well you’re not going to believe it but…..”

My grandmother and me.

***

My grandfather proposed to my grandmother on the day they met, an action born from a connection far deeper than many of us can comprehend.

He saw her and knew, he said. There wasn’t a question in his mind.

Through the entire length of their marriage until her death in 1996, he was a gentleman deeply in love with his wife. Subsequently, and among many other things, he was a widower who would still tear up upon the mere mention of her name decades later.

I am comforted by the thought of them reunited again at last, twenty plus years later.

My grandparents, 1945

My grandfather proposed to my grandmother because he caught a glimpse of her on a fateful day in 1944.

He enlisted in the Air Force and was sent to England in the early 1940s. That too is family lore, because the man wore thick glasses since he was a child. But he wanted to fight for his country during the Second World War, and wanted to join the Air Force to do so. He couldn’t disclose his terrible eyesight, however, and so he failed the eye test several times taking it without glasses. They rejected his application.

Did he give up? No. He never gave up. He memorized the eye chart and waited until a new doctor was giving he exam. The strategy paid off and he finally passed. He was sent to Gander in Newfoundland for training, and eventually onwards to England. The ruse was up eventually, of course, and he was not able to fly planes. Instead, he served happily from the ground.

(I got my stubbornness from several family members, him among them.)

Eventually, he transferred to a base on the coast of England. There, he and his Air Force buddies would spent one evening a week at a hotel near the sea, playing poker with injured son of the owner.

One week in 1944, a young woman caught his attention on his way to that weekly game. She was walking down the stairs at the hotel with an older woman, her mother, and she stood out immediately, he said.

He turned to his friends and told them to go on to the game without him.

In all of the times I have heard this story, I never thought to ask how he broke the ice. I imagine it started with a cheerful hello. Perhaps, as he saw her heading to a room in the hotel, he asked her if she was retiring so soon. It was early evening, and the sun hadn’t set.

“Hello..are you retiring so soon? Would you like to take a walk along the beach?”

Seeking an escape from the London smog for a weekend, my great-grandmother brought my grandma to the coast with her. Slim, petite, and always introspective, I can only imagine what was going through her head that she agreed at age 19 to an impromptu date with a stranger.

He was 25.

I suspect it wasn’t logic, because my grandmother, like my grandfather, confirmed that it was love at first sight. Further, unbeknownst to my grandfather, she was engaged to a gentleman in London. For a shy (engaged!) young lady to leave her mother and wander the beach during the war took something larger than life. Love.

She did not retire for the night, and instead did what she always did because she was always cold: she went and got a sweater. She turned and explained her need for a sweater to my grandfather – this part we all do know – and that she wanted to get her mother settled for the night.

“Ok. Then I will wait,” he replied.

And he did.

Their first date was a drawn-out walk along the cliffs at the edge of the sea, one that culminated in a proposal. Complicating matters was not only my grandmother’s engagement, but that my grandfather too was promised to a woman in Canada who he planned to take up with after the war.

Regardless, and as they both told it, those previous plans were impossible now. Something shifted in the universe, something firm and unyielding. They felt that they were meant to be together despite the chaos that would it would likely cause in their respective families.

My grandparents during WWII

Before they knew it, it was almost curfew. My grandfather had to be back in his barracks or risk being declared AWOL. A gentleman, he tried to walk my grandmother to the hotel regardless, but she insisted that he not risk his enlistment. They made plans to meet at the hotel the next day, and she told him to rush back before it was too late.

My grandfather made It back in time and in one piece, but my grandmother did not.

During the war, a country-wide blackout went into effect Sept 1, 1939. Lights could easily geolocate a spot for Germans to bomb, so at dusk there were no lights. The effect was immediate, and conditions like “blackout anemia” spread as city dwellers got used to a life without nighttime light. “For the first minute going out of doors one is completely bewildered, wrote Londoner Phylllis Warner, “then it is a matter of groping forward with nerves as well as hands outstretched.”  Near the sea, it was especially important that the blackout was in full effect because U-boats were patrolling the waters.

With darkness upon them, my grandparents split up to make their way back to their respective sleeping spots. In the inky blackness, my grandmother felt her way along the cliffs toward the hotel. Along the way she tripped over a retaining wall, and promptly collapsed a lung.

What was she thinking, inching back in the dark after accepting a stranger’s engagement, in pain and alone? Again, the questions I never thought to ask as a child.

Clearly, the mother-daughter trip to the coast was over. My grandmother and great-grandmother left at dawn for to London to see a doctor. The next day, my grandfather returned to the hotel as planned, only to find out that my grandmother was gone. He begged the hotel for their London address, and on his first day of leave he rushed to London to see her.

Today, treatment for a severe collapsed lung usually involves inserting a needle or chest tube between the ribs to remove the excess air. In 1945, however, it was simply bedrest for as long as it took to hopefully heal. So for several months, my grandfather made the trip from the coast to London and back again whenever he had a day of leave. As they couldn’t go anywhere, or do anything, they talked.

And through that multi-month recovery, they got to know each other.

One day, my great-grandfather took my grandpa aside to ask him what his intentions were, since he was doggedly returning every chance he got. “As soon as she is better and strong enough,” my grandfather said, “I plan to make her my wife.

They were married in 1945 in London, and honeymooned in Wales.

My grandparents’ wedding picture, London, 1945.

My grandparents on their honeymoon

It’s worth mentioning that my grandparents were as lucky as they were star-crossed. In the case of my grandpa, the ship he was supposed to take from Gander to England was hit by a German U-boat torpedo on its trajectory. Thankfully, a pilot friend was also being shipped out to England, and offered my grandfather a seat on his plane. Everyone on the ship bound for England died.

So too did my grandmother cheat death. After recovering from the collapsed lung, she took a her job at the office of a munitions factory in London. She had perfect attendance at work, until she came down with flu over a weekend. Not wanting to miss work, she only allowed herself to stay home Monday morning, returning to the factory in the afternoon. She arrived to find it completely levelled; it suffered a direct hit by a German bomb that morning, and everyone inside was killed.

In a similar vein, she had a near-death experience on her passage to Canada. When the war ended, my grandfather returned home with his fellow servicemen. As many Canadians stationed in England met and married English women, the government provided them special ships that transported them back to their now-husbands. The Canadian government estimates that by 1946, 48,000 marriages between Canadian servicemen and civilian women overseas had been registered. The women were called “War Brides,” and while most were from Britain, a few thousand came from elsewhere in Europe, like the Netherlands, Belgium, France, Italy and Germany. By the end of March 1948, the Canadian government had transported approximately 44,000 wives and 21,000 children to Canada, sent across the ocean on huge troop ships or modified cruise ships.

My grandmother sailed on a troop ship and came up on deck feeling nauseous from sea-sickness during a storm. Being so slight, when a wave crashed into the ship she went with it. A sailor holding a guide rope grabbed onto her just before she was swept off deck.

She arrived safely to Halifax eventually, my grandfather eagerly awaiting her smiling, no doubt exhausted, face. They settled in Montreal, eventually starting a family of their own.

My mum, their firstborn, aged 4.

We humans love to connect dots, and to create a compelling narrative where there may not be any. Were they just lucky? Perhaps. In my family, they were far more than that. A couple that was simply fated to be, with an incredible love story that transcended time, a war, and borders to bring them together.

***

Every conversation with my grandfather started with intense cheer.

“Hello Dolly!” He would say when he saw me, “tell me some good news.”

It wasn’t just me. He brightened everyone’s day, no matter the place or time. He was universally loved, to the point where his caretakers and nurses sobbed when they heard the news of his passing. Throughout his life, he comported himself with dignity and a strength that you knew you never wanted to test.

Before he retired, he worked in the menswear industry, building a modest company into a huge operation over the course of his career. Due to his vocation, he was impeccably dressed until his heath interfered and people had to choose them for him. In true grandpa fashion, too, he was classy and comfortable without ever appearing snobby. He dressed well because he believed in the products he made and the materials he traveled far and wide to personally source.

He is the only man I’ve ever met who could make an ascot seem normal.

That’s a testament to his shapeshifting nature, one day selling his clothing to shops, and the next in the countryside to see what raw materials he wanted to buy next. I drew on his strength many times when on the road and out of my element, or up to my eyeballs in fear. He was a comforting chameleon who charmed everyone.

The man also did great at anything he put his mind to. And I’m not just talking about his work. He bowled a perfect game for most of his life, and at 89, he complained to my mother that his arm was hurting. My mum gently told him that perhaps three different bowling leagues weren’t the best idea as he approached his 90th birthday.

Fiercely independent and unrepentant in his desire to live each day fully, he was not impressed by her suggestion that he cut down to two.

He learned how to play bridge at 85, not only learned but learned, remembered, and kicked some serious bridge ass.

Around the same time, he decided to join meals on wheels, for “something else to do.” Not content to bowl, go to the gym (yes, the GYM), socialize, and participate in community programmes, he wanted to give back. That’s right, in his 80s he joined Meals on Wheels to serve the food, not to receive it.

“I’m going to visit the old people,” he’d tell my mum with a characteristic chortle.

He was, of course, older than many of the people who received those meals.

***

My grandfather taught me to stand up for what I believe in, not just because someone tells me to do so but because it was right. Because I knew it was right inside. No one could take that from you, he would say, looking right into the heart of who I was.

“You stand up for what you know is right.”

Integrity mattered to him, to me, and to all of his grandkids.

My grandfather taught me that anything in life was possible in life and love.

He taught me that mealtimes could be anything I wanted them to be, with his joyful celebration of soup for dessert. Why have ice cream when there’s soup available? He never turned down a bowl, something my cousin Alanna and I clearly inherited from him.

By extrapolation life could be anything you wanted it to be, too. While he didn’t understand why I quit my job as a lawyer to start traveling, when this blog turned into a website and a business, he believed I was making a difference. (Plus, by then I was telling everyone “I eat soup for a living”, so I am sure that bought me some goodwill). I was effecting change without compromising my values, something that mattered to him.

I have handwritten notes from him well into his 90s, encouraging me to keep doing what I was doing.

One of my favourite memories of him was a trip to New York City when he was 90. I was working at a law firm then, and my parents drove in with him during thanksgiving weekend. He traipsed around town with us, over the Brooklyn Bridge, down into the subways, and into Times Square. He had not been to New York since the 1950s, and I remember looking over at him in the neon chaos of 42nd street, with all its noise and bustle and movement. He looked up, he took a deep breath, and said “you know, take away the neon and it really isn’t that different.”

He was adaptable in ways that I couldn’t even fathom, and his ability to find connection to everything, everyone, everywhere, is a part of why I traveled the way I did.

He made it to 100, spending his milestone birthday last year surrounded by friends and family. By that point, dementia had set in, and he did not understand why everyone was clamouring around him, or that he was 100. “I AM?” He would say, astonished. “100? Are you sure?” He did not recognize who I was, and asked my mother how she and I met.

“Dolly,” he said conspiratorially as I walked by him at his party, “what is going on?”

Someone cut in to say that it was a party for him. “We are all here to celebrate your birthday! Do you want to say something?”

And he did what he always did and took charge of the situation with grace, poise, and authority. Despite not remembering he was 100, nor who the people were who were there to visit, he spoke clearly and confidently.

“I want to thank everyone here for coming to see me today. And I hope you all enjoy yourselves and have a wonderful time!”

My mum, stepdad, brother, me, and the 100th birthday boy last year.

***

I was too sick to attend my grandpa’s funeral, the second grandparent’s life celebration I’ve missed in the last few months.

To grieve alone when your family grieves together is a deeply isolating thing, but thankfully with family in town for the funeral, I was not alone for it all. My cousins piled onto the floor of my tiny bedroom for hours to grieve with me.

My grandfather proposed to my grandmother on the day they met, and though he taught my cousins and I many things, the legacy of their love abides in each of us. In the time since, he lived an astounding life full of more variety and purpose than most people get during their time on earth.

With every single thing he did, and every person he interacted with, he was charming, polite, and perspicacious. But when we all gathered at my mum’s last week before his funeral, the love story was the first thing we discussed.

As with many stories that span distance and generational time, however, it succumbed to a game of broken telephone over the years. Eventually, at my cousin’s wedding in 2007, the close family gathered around my grandfather during a break in festivities to hear the truth straight from the horse’s mouth. The candid photos from that gathering encapsulate his status as beloved patriarch: us cousins gesticulating, our parents shaking their heads, and my grandfather in the centre with his head thrown back in full-body laughter.

My grandfather and I at the family wedding in 2007, just after the broken telephone was resolved.

My cousins and I reminisced together about this famous family day, and then we moved on to the rest of our memories. How during loud, drawn-out family gatherings, he would glare at us sternly until we piped down enough for him to say blessings before the meal. And then, while the meal was served, he would come to the kids table, ostensibly to “check on us,” but inevitably to sit down and spend part of the meal with his grandkids. We shared what we learned from him, over the many hours of wise advice we received during our respective lunches, phone calls, and visits.

That nighttime tribute with my cousins felt like a beautiful celebration, one that he would have approved of. Later, we all went upstairs to rejoin our our parents and continue the memories until we could barely keep our eyes open.

***

I’m still on bedrest, but I know the smaller reminders will hit harder when I start interacting with the world again. Grief follows no timeline, of course, but even with time it comes back without warning in the smaller remembrances that give a sharp gut punch.

How he loved a bowl of Wendy’s chilli and every road trip with him involved a Wendy’s stop.

How we would all go for Chinese buffets as a family, and when everyone got dessert, he’d loop back to get another bowl of soup.

The smell of pipe tobacco from before he quit smoking. His beloved ascot. The pageboy caps he wore in the winter months.

That raucous, eternal laugh.

Always in a pageboy cap.

***

In early April I was on bedrest reading in my mum’s room. A flash of black caught my eye, and I looked up to see a crow flying straight at the window. It veered suddenly and disappeared.

Intrigued, I got up from the bed to look outside. The crow was sitting on the street in front of the house, and stared me straight in the eyes before flying away.

“Goodbye grandma,” I said softly. It reminded me of that story from her grave that I hadn’t thought about in some time.

That night, I went to my computer and downloaded a whole bunch of photos of me and my grandfather that I had stored to the cloud. I’m not even sure why, other than the crow reminded me of his beloved wife. When I told my brother, he shook his head and said, “well Jodi, the birds certainly seem to give you messages.”

My grandfather passed peacefully in his sleep that night, in the early hours of dawn. Peacefully, and unexpectedly.

I suppose nothing is unexpected when you are a hundred and a half, but his body was so robust that we were all shocked.

When I saw the bleary panic and grief in my mother’s eyes the next morning when she woke me up with the news, I never even thought that it was about my grandfather. He was a hundred, yes, but he was indomitable.

Of course, he was also human.

Transcending our grief was our relief that he passed painlessly and quickly.

And in death, as in life, he kept the whole family on its toes.

I miss him very much.

Air Force photo of my grandpa

The post A Eulogy for my Grandfather appeared first on Legal Nomads.

A Eulogy for my Grandfather published first on https://oceandreamblog.tumblr.com/

[outsidespaceblog]

A Eulogy for my Grandfather

A few years after my grandmother died, I joined my mother and brother to visit her grave. Her remains are located in a crowded cemetery, one that has different markers to guide mourners to the right place.

After visiting a different relative, my mum got turned around and could not get us back to my grandmother. My mum is a blisteringly smart woman, but directions are not her forte. The three of us wandered the rows in search of my grandmother, laughing at our predicament.

Eventually, with my mother in the distance reading people’s graves, I stood next to my brother and turned my face up to the sky. “Grandma!” I called out. “Your daughter got lost, but this time it was en route to find you. Can you give us a hint over here?”

Moments later, a crow starting cawing and flew to the far end of the section that my brother and I were standing in. We turned to look at each other sharply.

Surely not?

“Come on, let’s go!”

We both sprinted toward the bird at the same time, our pace slowing as the tombstone came into view. We found a crow sitting on my grandmother’s grave. The gravestone was double length, as she and my grandfather planned to share a double plot whenever he should pass.

We took a few moments to stop freaking out, and then called our mum over.

“How did you guys find it?” She asked, incredulously.

“Well you’re not going to believe it but…..”

My grandmother and me.

***

My grandfather proposed to my grandmother on the day they met, an action born from a connection far deeper than many of us can comprehend.

He saw her and knew, he said. There wasn’t a question in his mind.

Through the entire length of their marriage until her death in 1996, he was a gentleman deeply in love with his wife. Subsequently, and among many other things, he was a widower who would still tear up upon the mere mention of her name decades later.

I am comforted by the thought of them reunited again at last, twenty plus years later.

My grandparents, 1945

My grandfather proposed to my grandmother because he caught a glimpse of her on a fateful day in 1944.

He enlisted in the Air Force and was sent to England in the early 1940s. That too is family lore, because the man wore thick glasses since he was a child. But he wanted to fight for his country during the Second World War, and wanted to join the Air Force to do so. He couldn’t disclose his terrible eyesight, however, and so he failed the eye test several times taking it without glasses. They rejected his application.

Did he give up? No. He never gave up. He memorized the eye chart and waited until a new doctor was giving he exam. The strategy paid off and he finally passed. He was sent to Gander in Newfoundland for training, and eventually onwards to England. The ruse was up eventually, of course, and he was not able to fly planes. Instead, he served happily from the ground.

(I got my stubbornness from several family members, him among them.)

Eventually, he transferred to a base on the coast of England. There, he and his Air Force buddies would spent one evening a week at a hotel near the sea, playing poker with injured son of the owner.

One week in 1944, a young woman caught his attention on his way to that weekly game. She was walking down the stairs at the hotel with an older woman, her mother, and she stood out immediately, he said.

He turned to his friends and told them to go on to the game without him.

In all of the times I have heard this story, I never thought to ask how he broke the ice. I imagine it started with a cheerful hello. Perhaps, as he saw her heading to a room in the hotel, he asked her if she was retiring so soon. It was early evening, and the sun hadn’t set.

“Hello..are you retiring so soon? Would you like to take a walk along the beach?”

Seeking an escape from the London smog for a weekend, my great-grandmother brought my grandma to the coast with her. Slim, petite, and always introspective, I can only imagine what was going through her head that she agreed at age 19 to an impromptu date with a stranger.

He was 25.

I suspect it wasn’t logic, because my grandmother, like my grandfather, confirmed that it was love at first sight. Further, unbeknownst to my grandfather, she was engaged to a gentleman in London. For a shy (engaged!) young lady to leave her mother and wander the beach during the war took something larger than life. Love.

She did not retire for the night, and instead did what she always did because she was always cold: she went and got a sweater. She turned and explained her need for a sweater to my grandfather – this part we all do know – and that she wanted to get her mother settled for the night.

“Ok. Then I will wait,” he replied.

And he did.

Their first date was a drawn-out walk along the cliffs at the edge of the sea, one that culminated in a proposal. Complicating matters was not only my grandmother’s engagement, but that my grandfather too was promised to a woman in Canada who he planned to take up with after the war.

Regardless, and as they both told it, those previous plans were impossible now. Something shifted in the universe, something firm and unyielding. They felt that they were meant to be together despite the chaos that would it would likely cause in their respective families.

My grandparents during WWII

Before they knew it, it was almost curfew. My grandfather had to be back in his barracks or risk being declared AWOL. A gentleman, he tried to walk my grandmother to the hotel regardless, but she insisted that he not risk his enlistment. They made plans to meet at the hotel the next day, and she told him to rush back before it was too late.

My grandfather made It back in time and in one piece, but my grandmother did not.

During the war, a country-wide blackout went into effect Sept 1, 1939. Lights could easily geolocate a spot for Germans to bomb, so at dusk there were no lights. The effect was immediate, and conditions like “blackout anemia” spread as city dwellers got used to a life without nighttime light. “For the first minute going out of doors one is completely bewildered, wrote Londoner Phylllis Warner, “then it is a matter of groping forward with nerves as well as hands outstretched.”  Near the sea, it was especially important that the blackout was in full effect because U-boats were patrolling the waters.

With darkness upon them, my grandparents split up to make their way back to their respective sleeping spots. In the inky blackness, my grandmother felt her way along the cliffs toward the hotel. Along the way she tripped over a retaining wall, and promptly collapsed a lung.

What was she thinking, inching back in the dark after accepting a stranger’s engagement, in pain and alone? Again, the questions I never thought to ask as a child.

Clearly, the mother-daughter trip to the coast was over. My grandmother and great-grandmother left at dawn for to London to see a doctor. The next day, my grandfather returned to the hotel as planned, only to find out that my grandmother was gone. He begged the hotel for their London address, and on his first day of leave he rushed to London to see her.

Today, treatment for a severe collapsed lung usually involves inserting a needle or chest tube between the ribs to remove the excess air. In 1945, however, it was simply bedrest for as long as it took to hopefully heal. So for several months, my grandfather made the trip from the coast to London and back again whenever he had a day of leave. As they couldn’t go anywhere, or do anything, they talked.

And through that multi-month recovery, they got to know each other.

One day, my great-grandfather took my grandpa aside to ask him what his intentions were, since he was doggedly returning every chance he got. “As soon as she is better and strong enough,” my grandfather said, “I plan to make her my wife.

They were married in 1945 in London, and honeymooned in Wales.

My grandparents’ wedding picture, London, 1945.

My grandparents on their honeymoon

It’s worth mentioning that my grandparents were as lucky as they were star-crossed. In the case of my grandpa, the ship he was supposed to take from Gander to England was hit by a German U-boat torpedo on its trajectory. Thankfully, a pilot friend was also being shipped out to England, and offered my grandfather a seat on his plane. Everyone on the ship bound for England died.

So too did my grandmother cheat death. After recovering from the collapsed lung, she took a her job at the office of a munitions factory in London. She had perfect attendance at work, until she came down with flu over a weekend. Not wanting to miss work, she only allowed herself to stay home Monday morning, returning to the factory in the afternoon. She arrived to find it completely levelled; it suffered a direct hit by a German bomb that morning, and everyone inside was killed.

In a similar vein, she had a near-death experience on her passage to Canada. When the war ended, my grandfather returned home with his fellow servicemen. As many Canadians stationed in England met and married English women, the government provided them special ships that transported them back to their now-husbands. The Canadian government estimates that by 1946, 48,000 marriages between Canadian servicemen and civilian women overseas had been registered. The women were called “War Brides,” and while most were from Britain, a few thousand came from elsewhere in Europe, like the Netherlands, Belgium, France, Italy and Germany. By the end of March 1948, the Canadian government had transported approximately 44,000 wives and 21,000 children to Canada, sent across the ocean on huge troop ships or modified cruise ships.

My grandmother sailed on a troop ship and came up on deck feeling nauseous from sea-sickness during a storm. Being so slight, when a wave crashed into the ship she went with it. A sailor holding a guide rope grabbed onto her just before she was swept off deck.

She arrived safely to Halifax eventually, my grandfather eagerly awaiting her smiling, no doubt exhausted, face. They settled in Montreal, eventually starting a family of their own.

My mum, their firstborn, aged 4.

We humans love to connect dots, and to create a compelling narrative where there may not be any. Were they just lucky? Perhaps. In my family, they were far more than that. A couple that was simply fated to be, with an incredible love story that transcended time, a war, and borders to bring them together.

***

Every conversation with my grandfather started with intense cheer.

“Hello Dolly!” He would say when he saw me, “tell me some good news.”

It wasn’t just me. He brightened everyone’s day, no matter the place or time. He was universally loved, to the point where his caretakers and nurses sobbed when they heard the news of his passing. Throughout his life, he comported himself with dignity and a strength that you knew you never wanted to test.

Before he retired, he worked in the menswear industry, building a modest company into a huge operation over the course of his career. Due to his vocation, he was impeccably dressed until his heath interfered and people had to choose them for him. In true grandpa fashion, too, he was classy and comfortable without ever appearing snobby. He dressed well because he believed in the products he made and the materials he traveled far and wide to personally source.

He is the only man I’ve ever met who could make an ascot seem normal.

That’s a testament to his shapeshifting nature, one day selling his clothing to shops, and the next in the countryside to see what raw materials he wanted to buy next. I drew on his strength many times when on the road and out of my element, or up to my eyeballs in fear. He was a comforting chameleon who charmed everyone.

The man also did great at anything he put his mind to. And I’m not just talking about his work. He bowled a perfect game for most of his life, and at 89, he complained to my mother that his arm was hurting. My mum gently told him that perhaps three different bowling leagues weren’t the best idea as he approached his 90th birthday.

Fiercely independent and unrepentant in his desire to live each day fully, he was not impressed by her suggestion that he cut down to two.

He learned how to play bridge at 85, not only learned but learned, remembered, and kicked some serious bridge ass.

Around the same time, he decided to join meals on wheels, for “something else to do.” Not content to bowl, go to the gym (yes, the GYM), socialize, and participate in community programmes, he wanted to give back. That’s right, in his 80s he joined Meals on Wheels to serve the food, not to receive it.

“I’m going to visit the old people,” he’d tell my mum with a characteristic chortle.

He was, of course, older than many of the people who received those meals.

***

My grandfather taught me to stand up for what I believe in, not just because someone tells me to do so but because it was right. Because I knew it was right inside. No one could take that from you, he would say, looking right into the heart of who I was.

“You stand up for what you know is right.”

Integrity mattered to him, to me, and to all of his grandkids.

My grandfather taught me that anything in life was possible in life and love.

He taught me that mealtimes could be anything I wanted them to be, with his joyful celebration of soup for dessert. Why have ice cream when there’s soup available? He never turned down a bowl, something my cousin Alanna and I clearly inherited from him.

By extrapolation life could be anything you wanted it to be, too. While he didn’t understand why I quit my job as a lawyer to start traveling, when this blog turned into a website and a business, he believed I was making a difference. (Plus, by then I was telling everyone “I eat soup for a living”, so I am sure that bought me some goodwill). I was effecting change without compromising my values, something that mattered to him.

I have handwritten notes from him well into his 90s, encouraging me to keep doing what I was doing.

One of my favourite memories of him was a trip to New York City when he was 90. I was working at a law firm then, and my parents drove in with him during thanksgiving weekend. He traipsed around town with us, over the Brooklyn Bridge, down into the subways, and into Times Square. He had not been to New York since the 1950s, and I remember looking over at him in the neon chaos of 42nd street, with all its noise and bustle and movement. He looked up, he took a deep breath, and said “you know, take away the neon and it really isn’t that different.”

He was adaptable in ways that I couldn’t even fathom, and his ability to find connection to everything, everyone, everywhere, is a part of why I traveled the way I did.

He made it to 100, spending his milestone birthday last year surrounded by friends and family. By that point, dementia had set in, and he did not understand why everyone was clamouring around him, or that he was 100. “I AM?” He would say, astonished. “100? Are you sure?” He did not recognize who I was, and asked my mother how she and I met.

“Dolly,” he said conspiratorially as I walked by him at his party, “what is going on?”

Someone cut in to say that it was a party for him. “We are all here to celebrate your birthday! Do you want to say something?”

And he did what he always did and took charge of the situation with grace, poise, and authority. Despite not remembering he was 100, nor who the people were who were there to visit, he spoke clearly and confidently.

“I want to thank everyone here for coming to see me today. And I hope you all enjoy yourselves and have a wonderful time!”

My mum, stepdad, brother, me, and the 100th birthday boy last year.

***

I was too sick to attend my grandpa’s funeral, the second grandparent’s life celebration I’ve missed in the last few months.

To grieve alone when your family grieves together is a deeply isolating thing, but thankfully with family in town for the funeral, I was not alone for it all. My cousins piled onto the floor of my tiny bedroom for hours to grieve with me.

My grandfather proposed to my grandmother on the day they met, and though he taught my cousins and I many things, the legacy of their love abides in each of us. In the time since, he lived an astounding life full of more variety and purpose than most people get during their time on earth.

With every single thing he did, and every person he interacted with, he was charming, polite, and perspicacious. But when we all gathered at my mum’s last week before his funeral, the love story was the first thing we discussed.

As with many stories that span distance and generational time, however, it succumbed to a game of broken telephone over the years. Eventually, at my cousin’s wedding in 2007, the close family gathered around my grandfather during a break in festivities to hear the truth straight from the horse’s mouth. The candid photos from that gathering encapsulate his status as beloved patriarch: us cousins gesticulating, our parents shaking their heads, and my grandfather in the centre with his head thrown back in full-body laughter.

My grandfather and I at the family wedding in 2007, just after the broken telephone was resolved.

My cousins and I reminisced together about this famous family day, and then we moved on to the rest of our memories. How during loud, drawn-out family gatherings, he would glare at us sternly until we piped down enough for him to say blessings before the meal. And then, while the meal was served, he would come to the kids table, ostensibly to “check on us,” but inevitably to sit down and spend part of the meal with his grandkids. We shared what we learned from him, over the many hours of wise advice we received during our respective lunches, phone calls, and visits.

That nighttime tribute with my cousins felt like a beautiful celebration, one that he would have approved of. Later, we all went upstairs to rejoin our our parents and continue the memories until we could barely keep our eyes open.

***

I’m still on bedrest, but I know the smaller reminders will hit harder when I start interacting with the world again. Grief follows no timeline, of course, but even with time it comes back without warning in the smaller remembrances that give a sharp gut punch.

How he loved a bowl of Wendy’s chilli and every road trip with him involved a Wendy’s stop.

How we would all go for Chinese buffets as a family, and when everyone got dessert, he’d loop back to get another bowl of soup.

The smell of pipe tobacco from before he quit smoking. His beloved ascot. The pageboy caps he wore in the winter months.

That raucous, eternal laugh.

Always in a pageboy cap.

***

In early April I was on bedrest reading in my mum’s room. A flash of black caught my eye, and I looked up to see a crow flying straight at the window. It veered suddenly and disappeared.

Intrigued, I got up from the bed to look outside. The crow was sitting on the street in front of the house, and stared me straight in the eyes before flying away.

“Goodbye grandma,” I said softly. It reminded me of that story from her grave that I hadn’t thought about in some time.

That night, I went to my computer and downloaded a whole bunch of photos of me and my grandfather that I had stored to the cloud. I’m not even sure why, other than the crow reminded me of his beloved wife. When I told my brother, he shook his head and said, “well Jodi, the birds certainly seem to give you messages.”

My grandfather passed peacefully in his sleep that night, in the early hours of dawn. Peacefully, and unexpectedly.

I suppose nothing is unexpected when you are a hundred and a half, but his body was so robust that we were all shocked.

When I saw the bleary panic and grief in my mother’s eyes the next morning when she woke me up with the news, I never even thought that it was about my grandfather. He was a hundred, yes, but he was indomitable.

Of course, he was also human.

Transcending our grief was our relief that he passed painlessly and quickly.

And in death, as in life, he kept the whole family on its toes.

I miss him very much.

Air Force photo of my grandpa

The post A Eulogy for my Grandfather appeared first on Legal Nomads.

A Eulogy for my Grandfather published first on https://whartonstravel.tumblr.com/

[comfsy]

A Eulogy for my Grandfather

A few years after my grandmother died, I joined my mother and brother to visit her grave. Her remains are located in a crowded cemetery, one that has different markers to guide mourners to the right place.

After visiting a different relative, my mum got turned around and could not get us back to my grandmother. My mum is a blisteringly smart woman, but directions are not her forte. The three of us wandered the rows in search of my grandmother, laughing at our predicament.

Eventually, with my mother in the distance reading people’s graves, I stood next to my brother and turned my face up to the sky. “Grandma!” I called out. “Your daughter got lost, but this time it was en route to find you. Can you give us a hint over here?”

Moments later, a crow starting cawing and flew to the far end of the section that my brother and I were standing in. We turned to look at each other sharply.

Surely not?

“Come on, let’s go!”

We both sprinted toward the bird at the same time, our pace slowing as the tombstone came into view. We found a crow sitting on my grandmother’s grave. The gravestone was double length, as she and my grandfather planned to share a double plot whenever he should pass.

We took a few moments to stop freaking out, and then called our mum over.

“How did you guys find it?” She asked, incredulously.

“Well you’re not going to believe it but…..”

My grandmother and me.

***

My grandfather proposed to my grandmother on the day they met, an action born from a connection far deeper than many of us can comprehend.

He saw her and knew, he said. There wasn’t a question in his mind.

Through the entire length of their marriage until her death in 1996, he was a gentleman deeply in love with his wife. Subsequently, and among many other things, he was a widower who would still tear up upon the mere mention of her name decades later.

I am comforted by the thought of them reunited again at last, twenty plus years later.

My grandparents, 1945

My grandfather proposed to my grandmother because he caught a glimpse of her on a fateful day in 1944.

He enlisted in the Air Force and was sent to England in the early 1940s. That too is family lore, because the man wore thick glasses since he was a child. But he wanted to fight for his country during the Second World War, and wanted to join the Air Force to do so. He couldn’t disclose his terrible eyesight, however, and so he failed the eye test several times taking it without glasses. They rejected his application.

Did he give up? No. He never gave up. He memorized the eye chart and waited until a new doctor was giving he exam. The strategy paid off and he finally passed. He was sent to Gander in Newfoundland for training, and eventually onwards to England. The ruse was up eventually, of course, and he was not able to fly planes. Instead, he served happily from the ground.

(I got my stubbornness from several family members, him among them.)

Eventually, he transferred to a base on the coast of England. There, he and his Air Force buddies would spent one evening a week at a hotel near the sea, playing poker with injured son of the owner.

One week in 1944, a young woman caught his attention on his way to that weekly game. She was walking down the stairs at the hotel with an older woman, her mother, and she stood out immediately, he said.

He turned to his friends and told them to go on to the game without him.

In all of the times I have heard this story, I never thought to ask how he broke the ice. I imagine it started with a cheerful hello. Perhaps, as he saw her heading to a room in the hotel, he asked her if she was retiring so soon. It was early evening, and the sun hadn’t set.

“Hello..are you retiring so soon? Would you like to take a walk along the beach?”

Seeking an escape from the London smog for a weekend, my great-grandmother brought my grandma to the coast with her. Slim, petite, and always introspective, I can only imagine what was going through her head that she agreed at age 19 to an impromptu date with a stranger.

He was 25.

I suspect it wasn’t logic, because my grandmother, like my grandfather, confirmed that it was love at first sight. Further, unbeknownst to my grandfather, she was engaged to a gentleman in London. For a shy (engaged!) young lady to leave her mother and wander the beach during the war took something larger than life. Love.

She did not retire for the night, and instead did what she always did because she was always cold: she went and got a sweater. She turned and explained her need for a sweater to my grandfather – this part we all do know – and that she wanted to get her mother settled for the night.

“Ok. Then I will wait,” he replied.

And he did.

Their first date was a drawn-out walk along the cliffs at the edge of the sea, one that culminated in a proposal. Complicating matters was not only my grandmother’s engagement, but that my grandfather too was promised to a woman in Canada who he planned to take up with after the war.

Regardless, and as they both told it, those previous plans were impossible now. Something shifted in the universe, something firm and unyielding. They felt that they were meant to be together despite the chaos that would it would likely cause in their respective families.

My grandparents during WWII

Before they knew it, it was almost curfew. My grandfather had to be back in his barracks or risk being declared AWOL. A gentleman, he tried to walk my grandmother to the hotel regardless, but she insisted that he not risk his enlistment. They made plans to meet at the hotel the next day, and she told him to rush back before it was too late.

My grandfather made It back in time and in one piece, but my grandmother did not.

During the war, a country-wide blackout went into effect Sept 1, 1939. Lights could easily geolocate a spot for Germans to bomb, so at dusk there were no lights. The effect was immediate, and conditions like “blackout anemia” spread as city dwellers got used to a life without nighttime light. “For the first minute going out of doors one is completely bewildered, wrote Londoner Phylllis Warner, “then it is a matter of groping forward with nerves as well as hands outstretched.”  Near the sea, it was especially important that the blackout was in full effect because U-boats were patrolling the waters.

With darkness upon them, my grandparents split up to make their way back to their respective sleeping spots. In the inky blackness, my grandmother felt her way along the cliffs toward the hotel. Along the way she tripped over a retaining wall, and promptly collapsed a lung.

What was she thinking, inching back in the dark after accepting a stranger’s engagement, in pain and alone? Again, the questions I never thought to ask as a child.

Clearly, the mother-daughter trip to the coast was over. My grandmother and great-grandmother left at dawn for to London to see a doctor. The next day, my grandfather returned to the hotel as planned, only to find out that my grandmother was gone. He begged the hotel for their London address, and on his first day of leave he rushed to London to see her.

Today, treatment for a severe collapsed lung usually involves inserting a needle or chest tube between the ribs to remove the excess air. In 1945, however, it was simply bedrest for as long as it took to hopefully heal. So for several months, my grandfather made the trip from the coast to London and back again whenever he had a day of leave. As they couldn’t go anywhere, or do anything, they talked.

And through that multi-month recovery, they got to know each other.

One day, my great-grandfather took my grandpa aside to ask him what his intentions were, since he was doggedly returning every chance he got. “As soon as she is better and strong enough,” my grandfather said, “I plan to make her my wife.

They were married in 1945 in London, and honeymooned in Wales.

My grandparents’ wedding picture, London, 1945.

My grandparents on their honeymoon

It’s worth mentioning that my grandparents were as lucky as they were star-crossed. In the case of my grandpa, the ship he was supposed to take from Gander to England was hit by a German U-boat torpedo on its trajectory. Thankfully, a pilot friend was also being shipped out to England, and offered my grandfather a seat on his plane. Everyone on the ship bound for England died.

So too did my grandmother cheat death. After recovering from the collapsed lung, she took a her job at the office of a munitions factory in London. She had perfect attendance at work, until she came down with flu over a weekend. Not wanting to miss work, she only allowed herself to stay home Monday morning, returning to the factory in the afternoon. She arrived to find it completely levelled; it suffered a direct hit by a German bomb that morning, and everyone inside was killed.

In a similar vein, she had a near-death experience on her passage to Canada. When the war ended, my grandfather returned home with his fellow servicemen. As many Canadians stationed in England met and married English women, the government provided them special ships that transported them back to their now-husbands. The Canadian government estimates that by 1946, 48,000 marriages between Canadian servicemen and civilian women overseas had been registered. The women were called “War Brides,” and while most were from Britain, a few thousand came from elsewhere in Europe, like the Netherlands, Belgium, France, Italy and Germany. By the end of March 1948, the Canadian government had transported approximately 44,000 wives and 21,000 children to Canada, sent across the ocean on huge troop ships or modified cruise ships.

My grandmother sailed on a troop ship and came up on deck feeling nauseous from sea-sickness during a storm. Being so slight, when a wave crashed into the ship she went with it. A sailor holding a guide rope grabbed onto her just before she was swept off deck.

She arrived safely to Halifax eventually, my grandfather eagerly awaiting her smiling, no doubt exhausted, face. They settled in Montreal, eventually starting a family of their own.

My mum, their firstborn, aged 4.

We humans love to connect dots, and to create a compelling narrative where there may not be any. Were they just lucky? Perhaps. In my family, they were far more than that. A couple that was simply fated to be, with an incredible love story that transcended time, a war, and borders to bring them together.

***

Every conversation with my grandfather started with intense cheer.

“Hello Dolly!” He would say when he saw me, “tell me some good news.”

It wasn’t just me. He brightened everyone’s day, no matter the place or time. He was universally loved, to the point where his caretakers and nurses sobbed when they heard the news of his passing. Throughout his life, he comported himself with dignity and a strength that you knew you never wanted to test.

Before he retired, he worked in the menswear industry, building a modest company into a huge operation over the course of his career. Due to his vocation, he was impeccably dressed until his heath interfered and people had to choose them for him. In true grandpa fashion, too, he was classy and comfortable without ever appearing snobby. He dressed well because he believed in the products he made and the materials he traveled far and wide to personally source.

He is the only man I’ve ever met who could make an ascot seem normal.

That’s a testament to his shapeshifting nature, one day selling his clothing to shops, and the next in the countryside to see what raw materials he wanted to buy next. I drew on his strength many times when on the road and out of my element, or up to my eyeballs in fear. He was a comforting chameleon who charmed everyone.

The man also did great at anything he put his mind to. And I’m not just talking about his work. He bowled a perfect game for most of his life, and at 89, he complained to my mother that his arm was hurting. My mum gently told him that perhaps three different bowling leagues weren’t the best idea as he approached his 90th birthday.

Fiercely independent and unrepentant in his desire to live each day fully, he was not impressed by her suggestion that he cut down to two.

He learned how to play bridge at 85, not only learned but learned, remembered, and kicked some serious bridge ass.

Around the same time, he decided to join meals on wheels, for “something else to do.” Not content to bowl, go to the gym (yes, the GYM), socialize, and participate in community programmes, he wanted to give back. That’s right, in his 80s he joined Meals on Wheels to serve the food, not to receive it.

“I’m going to visit the old people,” he’d tell my mum with a characteristic chortle.

He was, of course, older than many of the people who received those meals.

***

My grandfather taught me to stand up for what I believe in, not just because someone tells me to do so but because it was right. Because I knew it was right inside. No one could take that from you, he would say, looking right into the heart of who I was.

“You stand up for what you know is right.”

Integrity mattered to him, to me, and to all of his grandkids.

My grandfather taught me that anything in life was possible in life and love.

He taught me that mealtimes could be anything I wanted them to be, with his joyful celebration of soup for dessert. Why have ice cream when there’s soup available? He never turned down a bowl, something my cousin Alanna and I clearly inherited from him.

By extrapolation life could be anything you wanted it to be, too. While he didn’t understand why I quit my job as a lawyer to start traveling, when this blog turned into a website and a business, he believed I was making a difference. (Plus, by then I was telling everyone “I eat soup for a living”, so I am sure that bought me some goodwill). I was effecting change without compromising my values, something that mattered to him.

I have handwritten notes from him well into his 90s, encouraging me to keep doing what I was doing.

One of my favourite memories of him was a trip to New York City when he was 90. I was working at a law firm then, and my parents drove in with him during thanksgiving weekend. He traipsed around town with us, over the Brooklyn Bridge, down into the subways, and into Times Square. He had not been to New York since the 1950s, and I remember looking over at him in the neon chaos of 42nd street, with all its noise and bustle and movement. He looked up, he took a deep breath, and said “you know, take away the neon and it really isn’t that different.”

He was adaptable in ways that I couldn’t even fathom, and his ability to find connection to everything, everyone, everywhere, is a part of why I traveled the way I did.

He made it to 100, spending his milestone birthday last year surrounded by friends and family. By that point, dementia had set in, and he did not understand why everyone was clamouring around him, or that he was 100. “I AM?” He would say, astonished. “100? Are you sure?” He did not recognize who I was, and asked my mother how she and I met.

“Dolly,” he said conspiratorially as I walked by him at his party, “what is going on?”

Someone cut in to say that it was a party for him. “We are all here to celebrate your birthday! Do you want to say something?”

And he did what he always did and took charge of the situation with grace, poise, and authority. Despite not remembering he was 100, nor who the people were who were there to visit, he spoke clearly and confidently.

“I want to thank everyone here for coming to see me today. And I hope you all enjoy yourselves and have a wonderful time!”

My mum, stepdad, brother, me, and the 100th birthday boy last year.

***

I was too sick to attend my grandpa’s funeral, the second grandparent’s life celebration I’ve missed in the last few months.

To grieve alone when your family grieves together is a deeply isolating thing, but thankfully with family in town for the funeral, I was not alone for it all. My cousins piled onto the floor of my tiny bedroom for hours to grieve with me.

My grandfather proposed to my grandmother on the day they met, and though he taught my cousins and I many things, the legacy of their love abides in each of us. In the time since, he lived an astounding life full of more variety and purpose than most people get during their time on earth.

With every single thing he did, and every person he interacted with, he was charming, polite, and perspicacious. But when we all gathered at my mum’s last week before his funeral, the love story was the first thing we discussed.

As with many stories that span distance and generational time, however, it succumbed to a game of broken telephone over the years. Eventually, at my cousin’s wedding in 2007, the close family gathered around my grandfather during a break in festivities to hear the truth straight from the horse’s mouth. The candid photos from that gathering encapsulate his status as beloved patriarch: us cousins gesticulating, our parents shaking their heads, and my grandfather in the centre with his head thrown back in full-body laughter.

My grandfather and I at the family wedding in 2007, just after the broken telephone was resolved.

My cousins and I reminisced together about this famous family day, and then we moved on to the rest of our memories. How during loud, drawn-out family gatherings, he would glare at us sternly until we piped down enough for him to say blessings before the meal. And then, while the meal was served, he would come to the kids table, ostensibly to “check on us,” but inevitably to sit down and spend part of the meal with his grandkids. We shared what we learned from him, over the many hours of wise advice we received during our respective lunches, phone calls, and visits.

That nighttime tribute with my cousins felt like a beautiful celebration, one that he would have approved of. Later, we all went upstairs to rejoin our our parents and continue the memories until we could barely keep our eyes open.

***

I’m still on bedrest, but I know the smaller reminders will hit harder when I start interacting with the world again. Grief follows no timeline, of course, but even with time it comes back without warning in the smaller remembrances that give a sharp gut punch.

How he loved a bowl of Wendy’s chilli and every road trip with him involved a Wendy’s stop.

How we would all go for Chinese buffets as a family, and when everyone got dessert, he’d loop back to get another bowl of soup.

The smell of pipe tobacco from before he quit smoking. His beloved ascot. The pageboy caps he wore in the winter months.

That raucous, eternal laugh.

Always in a pageboy cap.

***

In early April I was on bedrest reading in my mum’s room. A flash of black caught my eye, and I looked up to see a crow flying straight at the window. It veered suddenly and disappeared.

Intrigued, I got up from the bed to look outside. The crow was sitting on the street in front of the house, and stared me straight in the eyes before flying away.

“Goodbye grandma,” I said softly. It reminded me of that story from her grave that I hadn’t thought about in some time.

That night, I went to my computer and downloaded a whole bunch of photos of me and my grandfather that I had stored to the cloud. I’m not even sure why, other than the crow reminded me of his beloved wife. When I told my brother, he shook his head and said, “well Jodi, the birds certainly seem to give you messages.”

My grandfather passed peacefully in his sleep that night, in the early hours of dawn. Peacefully, and unexpectedly.

I suppose nothing is unexpected when you are a hundred and a half, but his body was so robust that we were all shocked.

When I saw the bleary panic and grief in my mother’s eyes the next morning when she woke me up with the news, I never even thought that it was about my grandfather. He was a hundred, yes, but he was indomitable.

Of course, he was also human.

Transcending our grief was our relief that he passed painlessly and quickly.

And in death, as in life, he kept the whole family on its toes.

I miss him very much.

Air Force photo of my grandpa

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Help for Dogs Fighting IMT Immune Mediated Thrombocytopenia

This is the blog post I dread writing. I always knew that Cocker Spaniels, more so than most other breeds, are extra prone to IMT, immune mediated thrombocytopenia. This blog post will serve as a journal of my dog’s battle to fight IMT, what we are experiencing, his journey, and hopefully this diary-style blog post will help answer questions about this disease and how it may affect your dog, no matter if the dog is purebred or mixed.

Saturday, October 7th, 2017

Immune Mediated Thrombocytopenia Day One

My dog is living a natural, more organic, less chemical life. He consumes an amazing diet, does not get vaccines any longer except for rabies required by law, and he never gets any sort of chemical put onto his coat or skin.

On Saturday, October 7th, my wife and I packed up the car and headed out of town for a day of fun on the beach with the dog in New Jersey. There, the dog played, ran, showed tons of energy, had snacks, and an overall amazing day was had by all.

Upon arrival back home about 11:30 pm, I decided to check my dog’s ear, as I thought he may be battling an ear infection, common in Cockers but only the second time ever for Dexter. I noticed he had some lumpy looking reddish marks on his inner ear flap. I immediately checked Dexter’s gums. They were normal in color and capillary refill was good, but he had some bleeding along the gum line, and in particular between two teeth on the right side rear portion of his mouth. I noticed splotchy red marks on the inside of his upper lip flaps, too.

My spouse and I rushed our dog to the emergency vet/hospital located about 10 minutes from our house.

He looked like this when we rushed him to the vet:

Panic and Diagnosis

We met with the emergency vet on call and went through the gamut: Discussions, tests, and more. Dexter had a platelet count of zero. Yes, zero. None. His own body’s immune system attacked platelets as if they are threat and thus, he was starting to bleed. The tentative diagnosis of IMT was made.

They did a chest x-ray and abdominal x-rays. Both normal. They do not do transfusions. We were told he would need to be hospitalized for 3 to 10 days and will be getting steroids and a chemotherapy drug to boost his platelets, among other things.

This came out of nowhere. All his other levels are fine. As of this writing, he is not anemic. When a dog is anemic in this situation, a diagnosis of IMHA (immune-mediated hemolytic anemia) is made. When IMT and IMHA are both present, the diagnosis of Evans Syndrome is made.

As of this writing, we are dealing with immune mediated thrombocytopenia (IMT).

IN A NUTSHELL: I DON’T WANT TO READ FURTHER BUT WHAT HAPPENED?

My dog, Dexter, survived. You can read through everything, but as of 10/12/17 he is home with us, a long road ahead, followup appointments, and blood draws, watching for relapse, but this can be managed. You can read through all of this to see what happened.

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Day Two

We cannot bring him home until platelets stabilize. They generally check platelets when they first see the dog and then not again for 48 to 72 hours. The reason for this we are told is that whether the platelets read 0 or 7,000 that is still low. You want them in the 40,000 and up range and eventually over 200,000. Just as a side note, Dexter’s platelets at the end of June of this year were 459,000. This happened that fast.

Dexter’s red blood cells are good and so far, and praying it stays that way, no signs of anemia. That is a good thing. They are picking him for a small blood amount for in house smears. I checked his gums while there and they are good, but yes, they are bleeding. We are told that is to be expected.

No rectal or urinary blood.

We were allowed to visit twice today.

Dexter ate his food for us, had treats, showed a wagging tail, peed and pooped for Dar outside, and then he lay by me. He literally lay across me. I curled up with him and sobbed til my eyes felt like they may fall out, for an hour at least. I couldn’t help it. He had no idea. He fell asleep, and he definitely is feeling the effects of what they are giving him.

The vet is concerned about watching him over these next 3-4 days, she calls critical, so that there is no bleed into his brain or heart. He has to stay in house to be watched.

He is getting IV fluids, injectable prednisone, got one vincristine injection, doxycycline in case tick related and they don’t think it is, Baytril for infection including in ear, melatonin and Tresaderm for his ear infection.

She did a quick standing up abdominal ultrasound of him today and that was normal. The more in depth one will take place Tuesday with the internist.

His vitals were normal.

They see at least one diagnosis a day of IMT (immune mediated thrombocytopenia). The internist apparently is well versed in this. If we feel good about that, we will keep his care for this disease at that vet and then our regular vet for everything else.

At some point, if none of this works, he can be transferred to a vet hospital for immunoglobulin infusions – but we do this first and see what helps.

This will need to be treated aggressively and with frequent blood work, so I prefer this hospital that is within 10 minutes of our home. They do both emergencies and hospital care plus have specialists on staff.

The vet also said she sees dogs come in with this diagnosis and they are so much sicker outwardly, but Dexter is still guarded.

He had no vaccinations, nothing unusual, and chest x-ray and abdominal x-ray are normal, all of his bloodwork is normal except he had zero platelets. No tick borne diseases. He’s been bright alert and responsive and played yesterday, has a great appetite and drinks water.

Medications as of Day Two

Tresaderm for ear infection

Dexamethasone injectable steroid once daily

Baytril

Doxycycline in case tick mediated disease, but everything coming back negative on that end

Melatonin: Something to do with helping boost platelets

Omeprazole: Gastric care

Vincristine: One time shot

Articles of Interest on IMT in Dogs

I am keeping these articles bookmarked. I’ve learned that sometimes well-intended advice is not helpful. Every dog is different and every treatment route is different. If you read articles online, be sure the medical information is sourced and valid.

IMT Article

IMT Thorough Article

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Day 2-1/2

DEXTER UPDATE, 8 AM EST, 10/09: Dexter’s vitals are stable. He ate some food overnight. His red cell count is stable. He cant come home til his platelets are stable. Normal low end is 200,000. They want him to have at least 40,000 before he is “out of the woods.” As of this morning, he has a grand total of 4 (yes, only 4) platelets on his smear. It can take 3-7 days before effects of the meds they are giving him take effect.There is so much that has happened in the course of 48 hours, that words fail me. Me, of all people: Failed by words. I have decided to arm myself with as much information as humanly possible and stop listening to the negativity and sad/bad stories. Every dog is different. Every treatment plan is different. This is the one thing I have learned. I am really feeling like millions of shards of broken glass. We got permission to come see Dex at noon today and feed him there. He will be in the hospital at least a week, maybe more. Let’s pray he shows improvement sooner and we can bring him home to recover once platelets are stable.

Why is he not getting a transfusion? This is the most asked question I am receiving. Why is he not getting platelets? We found this on a reputable veterinary website on the topic: “Whole blood transfusion (and platelet-rich plasma) Most dogs with primary ITP usually present with peripheral platelet counts less than 20,000, and often less than 10,000. Although these dogs are theoretically at risk for spontaneous bleeding, in truth this is rarely noted. As mentioned above petechiae or ecchymoses or epistaxis are not uncommon, but bleeding into the lungs, pleural space, or CNS is very rare without concurrent trauma. Routine transfusion of ITP dogs with ultralow platelet counts is not recommended for several reasons. First, the amount of blood which would be required to increase a patient’s peripheral platelet count is huge, and unrealistic. Second, transfused platelets are likely destroyed more rapidly than the patient’s own cells because in addition to being targeted by the anti-platelet antibodies causing the ITP, they are also inherently more antigenic (we do not cross-match for platelet compatibility). Finally, platelets have a relatively short half-life, and repeated transfusions would be necessary to maintain the peripheral platelet count above 20,000. Despite these limitations, transfusions are definitely indicated in those rare patients with ITP that present with or develop life-threatening hemorrhage. Whole blood or platelet-rich plasma is required in these cases.”

His care will remain local at the veterinary emergency and referral hospital unless he needs to be transferred elsewhere and/or if we feel his care is compromised or they aren’t able to best serve his needs. We have access to Philadelphia, New York, etc but they are several hours from us. I’d really like a local internal medicine vet to provide care, direction, med adjustments, and the frequent blood draws we faced once Dex is discharged. I will know more by Tuesday evening to that end.

  DEXTER UPDATE, 3 PM, 10/09

We visited Dexter in the hospital, spent a half hour talking to the Critical Care Doctor who is overseeing his case, and we also talked on the phone to his regular veterinarian, who is apprised and up to date on Dexter’s records, as they were faxed and emailed to him.

Overall Dexter looks great, he drank a bunch, ate for us but spit the veggies, and he ate soft treats. He peed and pooped, and this time the poop was black. We are told it is not internal bleeding, but rather, blood he is swallowing from gums bleeding. He has no internal bleeding and his urinary system is good.

Specialized tick borne disease testing was sent out (blood) and that will be back in a week. In house stuff was negative.

His platelets have not changed, still a total of 4. His red blood cells are low normal at around 35 (41 on admit) but he is not destroying red blood cells: He IS on IV and the red cell slight drop is probably from loss and not destruction. So that’s good news.

The vet called his gums “rosy pink.” The petechiae is still there but not as prominent. I did not see heavy bleeding in gums.

They are testing his blood on a smear twice a day, but they may do a full draw tomorrow with IDEXX machine in house.

He will see an internal medicine specialist at some point tomorrow, Tuesday, whose protocol for treatment that Dex is on was designed specifically for Dex.

No transfusions yet of anything but time will tell. Again, it takes 3-7 days to see any sort of platelet increase and we have every prayer coming out.

His vitals are good. Our vet said this is a great protocol, stay with it, and he manages a lot of patients with ITP.

We are going back at around 9 tonight to feed him. I don’t think they are taking him out to pee often.

So things are steady, and the one thing the vet said today is she is surprised that he does not have petechiae on his abdomen or on his skin elsewhere. The fact he doesn’t is good.

Our vet said we acted fast, so we did the right thing.

Every prayer, hug, email, phone call, text, and DM are so appreciated. That is about the only thing holding us up.

Love and hugs and major wigglebutt wags from Dexter and his moms.

Here is a pic from today’s visit and the critical care vet talking to us while Dex just chills. He is disoriented a bit and I know he wants out. He has to get these platelets up.

Tuesday, October 10th, 2017

Immune Mediated Thrombocytopenia Day Three

DEXTER UPDATE, 10:30 am, 10/10:

The hospital called and I talked to a vet tech. The internist wants to see me at 11:30 to go over everything. She says Dex is stable but that the doctor would go over everything. She wouldnt answer any questions and I understand. So yes, my heart is in my throat. In the meantime….

I have a theory. Cockers have long floppy ears and are notorious for ear infections. Dex only had one ear infection in his entire life and it was caused by meds during his kennel cough bout years ago. I keep them free of debris, flushed weekly, and properly groomed for air circulation. We have been fortunate.

So Dex had this junky stuff for weeks in his ear. I figured an infection was starting to come up, because his right ear canal is super narrow and the vet told us that and recommended curettage to open the canal more at some point. Dex always gets things on the right side of his body it seems. I digress.

In any case, I was flushing it with stuff from the vet twice a week for weeks.

The vet looked in Dexter’s ear 09/22 and said waxy but not infection. At that time, he didnt examine the wax under microscope.

Then on Saturday morning, 10/07, I looked at Dexter’s ear before we left for the beach and it was disgusting so I started his ear antibiotic. I now believe that was dried blood and wax coming out. It was gross. I was going to call his vet Monday and felt comfortable with that at the time because I had ear antibiotic to put in. I thought the red bumps on Saturday morning were bug bites or infection related on his inner right ear flat. It was petechiae I have since learned from IMT.

I wrote to the famed veterinarian, Dr. Jean Dodds, and paid $150 for an email consultation. She got back to me today. She gave me some recommendations I will discuss with the internist today but also said that stress or infection can cause IMT in dogs. So I went looking for more on that note. A bell went off. This bell may mean nothing, but it’s the first bell that went off since this nightmare began.

Again, remember one cause of IMT is bacterial infection. This is what petMD says, “Otitis media refers to an inflammation of the dog’s middle ear, while otitis interna refers to an inflammation of the inner ear, both of which are commonly caused by BACTERIAL infection.”

Now, are any bells going off? Was this brewing from the ear infection? And yes, Dex is on Tresaderm for ear infection and I think they are doing in both ears, even though one is only affected, and he is on antibiotics.

This could be something or nothing, I don’t know. But I know that he had this before the beach now.

More later.

DEXTER UPDATE, 1 pm, 10/10: (long, but trying to share as much as I can)

I met with the internal medicine doctor at the veterinary hospital today. They brought Dexter in to be with me, I fed him, walked him, and then we hung out together for a while before he internist came in. I really like him for starters.

Platelets today 98,000 and his platelet count is on the way up. They were zero on intake. 98,000!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This second and complete abdominal ultrasound today was normal.

He ate organic ground meat for me and was major thirsty: He drank nearly a whole bottle of water, thank you steroids. He is on an IV fluids line. He peed and pooped for me and the poop a bit loose but brown. No black!

The internist had me review what brought Dexter to this point.

Doctor says he responded and very quickly. Many dogs don’t and he said we are very lucky. He has had dogs in the hospital for 2 weeks and 8 blood transfusions in house, not a Cocker. He treats a lot of dogs for this. He said this could be way worse.

In most cases, they present because a groomer or pet parent sees a change. Bruising, bloody nose or ears, bloody gums, or bloody diarrhea because the dog is bleeding from their intestinal tract. Basically, anywhere the body can bleed from minimal trauma is where they are going to start bruising.

Belly, ears, gums most likely parts to bleed. Dex had bleeding from ear and gums.

What causes it? Most of the time we never find out.

Anything can do it, including an ear infection.

Anything that stimulates a dog’s immune system can cause this.

The typical culprits are tick borne diseases, and he added more things on the panel to be sent out to screen, or it can be UTI, antibiotics like sulfa drugs and maybe vaccines.

They can respond rapidly which Dex has done so far. Vincristine is the chemo drug and Dex had one shot of that. Some dogs he has seen have had to get 2 doses.

Steroids: Doxycycline and other immunosuppressants depending on how the dog responds.

He has responded better than most dogs. That is a direct quote and my favorite quote of the day!

The last dog he saw in house for this became anemic he bled so much. Would not stop. Another one belonged to a doctor and was rescued. Dog is okay now but lots of transfusions – he was bleeding into intestinal tract and no outward signs but that.

Dexter’s blood panel: On the 8th all was good, the alk phos was a little high but that was up since he was 2 years old. Vet says that’s weird but maybe a liver biopsy down the road to know what’s that about if we want.

He asked me what meds Dex was on at the time and I reiterated. Don’t give any of the meds any more. Stop them. He says try another drug, so another form of glucosamine for example.

Heartworm preventative – don’t use that one again. Try another one. Don’t give anything. It’s unlikely but it’s possible. No fish oil. Stop anything for now.

Most of the time we will never know what caused this.

We can treat this and it can come back, it can happen again. He had one dog, every time he got a UTI he had IMT flare up. His platelets would go down every time. I will be finding out about things like immune strengtheners and milk thistle. But I cant add anything in that could make his tender immune system tank again.

He says this is like when we get the flu vaccine…it stimulates the immune system and you may get a fever. The vaccine stimulates the immune system and the immune system does things it is not supposed to do. Other pathways get stimulated and they start doing things like killing the platelets or kill red blood cells.

If cancer were causing this, usually the dog is very sick. Dex is not and no evidence of cancer on scans and xrays.(bone marrow cancer, leukemia); it’s rare he finds cancer.

He looked up Dexter’s blood panels to date: He has responded quickly and he doesn’t see that often. #GoDex

RCC is a little low and that is okay. His white cell count is high and that is because his body is responding to the low platelets and saying “hey I have no platelets, the bone marrow needs to be active” so they start shooting out white cells at the same time.

His red cell count is 29.9, and when Dex came in it was 47. It has come down quite a bit. He says when dogs have immune mediated disease to one cell line, it can also go to the other.

He says IMHA can happen. I told him I don’t want to hear it (laughing, but I don’t want to hear that).

He says the same treatment and can’t really separate it sometimes. He says Dex has not bled enough through his gums for his red blood cells to have gone so low. So it could be IMHA. He would not be surprised. It will be watched. He is just seeing Dex for the first time today so he said we will monitor this. So now, the platelets need to keep rising and the red blood cells need to stay steady and not drop!

For IMHA, if that is what it ends up as, and with IMT that is called Evans syndrome. We aren’t going there yet. You give vitamins, iron and couple other things. He would handle it. Right now he is adding B12 and folic acid for Dex.

He has to be on steroids and if he becomes too anemic, they have to transfuse him and he is not at that point.

The meds are making him tired and they are watching his red cell count close. He is sending out a blood smear to a lab so they can look under a microscope and he will look to see if evidence of IMHA.

In terms of discharge, if his platelets keeping rising and he wants his red cell count to be stable and not dropping. If he gets to 15, they are going to transfuse him with whole blood.

When the critical care doctor saw Dex over the weekend and Monday, she felt the red cell count was dropping from loss and not from destruction, so I am hanging onto that.

The internist will be in the rest of the week every day and will see Dexter. I will go back tonight at around 9 pm to feed him and see him.

Tomorrow we see how things are going. Maybe discharge depending on how things progress.

Oh and while there, he had a sneezing fit. He sneezed like 20 times. Not sure what that was about.

I firmly believe the power of prayer and love is working. Whatever this is, we have to manage it. He said it will be a roller coaster, he can end up with more episodes and anything can trigger it. We have to be diligent and have blood draws and watch him. We shall.

In all honestly, it is you, the ones who care and are praying and sending love who are watching him. Thank you a million times over.

More to follow tonight.

Oh and on the way out, I stopped at the reception area to tell them I’d be back later. The gal says to me, “I see Sexy Dexy is back.” I started laughing; she loved him and remembered him from the ACL surgeries performed there. She shared that this is a roller coaster of a disease but can be handled. I love her.

And Then

I received a note from Dr. Laurie Coger who asked, “Is he autoagglutinating?”

Auto what?

You can see the red cells clumping together, she explained, with the naked eye. Here’s a pic of a slide agglutination test — see how the red cells look grainy and clumped:

Photo courtesy Dr. Laurie Coger

Dr. Coger says treatment is very similar for both IMHA and IMT. She suspects the drop in Dexter’s red blood count is fluids and some blood loss. Plus, he’s shifted to making platelets and WBC — his body can only churn out so many. The pathologist’s review of the slides will be a good way to see what cells he’s making.

Wednesday, October 11th, 2017

Immune Mediated Thrombocytopenia Day Three

Dexter is discharged today. His platelets at 6 am came in at 197,000! He was at zero on Saturday the 7th of October. YAY and hallejuah. We spoke with the Internist on discharge today. He said that Dexter was doing great. He was sent home with multiple meds. One of them is melatonin, a nutriceutical, and he will keep him on it for a long time, even after this crisis has passed down the road. It helps the platelet production. He is also taking the steroid, prednisolone; doxycycline, an antibiotic; and Baytril, an antibiotic in case he has something called bartonella, for which the blood test is pending. He is taking omeprazole, which is for his stomach on the sterioids. He is also sent home on Liqui-Tinic, which is a vitamin and iron supplement for mild anemia. His red cell count is in the low 30s, which is fine.

At some point he had some blood (melena) in his stool while there. The steroid will make him eat, drink, and pant more. Not all dogs experience the symptoms, but many do. He can be lethargic from it.

Activity wise, he is not allowed long walks or anything extreme for a while. He expects things to continue to improve. Back to his regular diet. He will be seen on Friday, 10/13, with a CBC check, too.

Dexter came in with an ear infection and is going home on Tresaderm, which was used in the hospital.

I can continue teeth brushing. If he bleeds, we need to know.

Diagnosis is for sure IMT.

Sidebark

My ear theory on this is above. I am still really getting a strong vibe on that, but I will wait to see if any of the obscure tests and tick-borne diseases mitigated this.

DEXTER UPDATE, 10/11: 9 pm:  Dexter is home, where he belongs. He rested, buried his bone, ate a bit, is now having a treat. We have to give him a bunch of meds and my spouse made a chart. Next internist visit is Friday morning and a blood draw. In the meantime, my Cocker friend Ellen Toomey, sent me these keep-track-of sheets she uses for her dog’s eye medications. Feel free to download and print for your own dogs if they receive multiple medications.

Dexter was discharged with platelets around 197,000. Mild anemia but not IMHA. He has IMT. We found out he started bleeding internally day two but we had him in the hospital so meds caught that. His poop was black. Thank God we got him to the hospital when we did.

I’m encouraging all of you to know what is normal in your dog, look now. Take photos. Pink gums. Ear flaps. Eyes. Then if abnormal happens, you act. Know that any change in urine or bowel movements Should be checked. Don’t wait. Moments matter. Don’t judge someone else’s dog’s illness with your own dog’s issues. Every dog and every treatment plan is different. Trust your gut. Don’t wait. I share to help others and so you feel better prepared as a pet parent and questions to ask, things to watch for.

On another note, today is the day our previous Cocker Spaniel, Brandy Noel, left this earth and crossed over the rainbow bridge on October 11, 2008. I do not think this is a coincidence And I truly feel she watched over her brother.

DEXTER UPDATE, 10/12: 1 pm: Dex is holding steady, had a good night, and a long road ahead, but day by day. He sees the internal medicine specialist tomorrow and has a blood panel done at that time. We are waiting for some special blood tests to come back on him, too. Bad gas and not too thrilled to eat so I tried to put some plain cooked turkey atop his food. It worked! He ate lunch and then a treat.  His tracheal scarring cough has flared big time. I will talk to the internist about that tomorrow. I was up 6 times last night – just bolted up out of bed to check him and his gums, etc. He is on nine meds and several things a day.

As fellow pet parents, I feel I can be frank and say this without causing eye rolls, and oh well if I do. He has some bad gas and loose poops, but to be expected with the meds he is on. The dog mom in me gets flashbacks to my previous Cocker’s IBD struggles, but I know that this is different. At least his bowel movements are brown and not black.

Dr. Jean Dodds: Amazing Veterinarian of the Highest Order: Consultation

For a fee, Dr. Dodds would do an email consultation. I wrote to ask her a ton of things about IMT. She is the founder of Hemopet and one of the best veterinarians in the world for me and millions of others. I am excerpting a few items of interest in her reply to me:

Q: Any thoughts on reasons for ITP?

A:  Any thoughts on reasons for ITP? Does he have bad gingivitis or dental disease? One of the most common causes of ITP is bacterial gingivitis and tartar – as platelets end up being mopped up as so-called “innocent bystanders” in the bacteria + cell based immune response.   Recent stress ?  Any physical, physiological or emotional stress event can trigger an episode of ITP in genetically susceptible animals or breeds. Is he a parti-color  or buff?

Q: What is a typical post emergency protocol to treat this?

A: See attached. BUT, importantly , he needs a complete thyroid antibody profile run to be sure as a cocker that he doesn’t have underlying autoimmune thyroiditis of familial hypothyroidism.

Note: Dexter can’t have this tested right away because he is on steroids and that would affect the test results.

There is much more, but I highly recommend you look up Dr. Dodds for email consultation. She is in California. Her fee is worth it and is a donation to the blood bank she runs for dogs, I believe.

Note

This blog post will be updated regularly through our journey in diary style. Stay tuned and any prayers are needed and appreciated.

The post Help for Dogs Fighting IMT Immune Mediated Thrombocytopenia appeared first on Fidose of Reality.

Help for Dogs Fighting IMT Immune Mediated Thrombocytopenia syndicated from http://ift.tt/2k1J2Eq

[consulting-celiac-in-the-tardis]

13+ Natural Energy Boosting Foods for the Modern Woman

New blog post! Whether you're a business woman, a mother-of-three, or both, being a modern woman is hard. You're so busy, it's understandable if you're part of the 90 percent of people in the world enjoying a caffeinated beverage with at least one of your daily meals. However, there are plenty of healthier - and tastier - ways to get an energy boost. To find out which foods are perfect to energize the modern woman, ENTITY (where this article of mine first appeared!) chatted with a variety of nutrition experts and dietitians, ranging from celebrity nutritionist Lisa DeFazio to Julieanna Hever, an R.D. also known as The Plant-Based Dietitian.

Here are over 13 energy-packed foods that can be the modern woman's secret weapon during busy days! Lean protein If you want to feel energized but avoid the crash later, protein is a girl's best friend. "[Eating protein in a snack] will extend the energy boost, helping to prevent dips, since it takes longer to digest," explains Tammy Lakatos Shames and Lyssie Lakatos, registered dietitians and fitness coaches better known as The Nutrition Twins. "Protein is also essential for growth and repair, helping your body recover from exercise and other physical strain, and helping you to feel more energetic." So what are some of the best sources of protein for you to enjoy? 1. Fish The Nutrition Twins suggest halibut because it "is rich in vitamin B6, which your body needs to make melatonin and serotonin, hormones essential to get a good night’s sleep. Nothing gives you more energy than a good night’s rest. Plus, halibut is a good source of omega 3s, and research shows that higher omega 3 levels are also associated with a better night’s rest." If you're more of a salmon kind of girl, that's also a smart choice. Lisa DeFazio says salmon offers plenty of the "B vitamins and protein that are critical for energy and muscle building."

Like in my sweet potato salmon sliders!

2. Eggs Going vegetarian doesn't mean you have to miss out on natural energy boosters, according to Lisa Moskovitz, a Weight Management, Disease Prevention, & Sports Nutrition Specialist as well as the CEO and founder of The NY Nutrition Group. "As a leading source of high quality protein, eggs - including the egg yolk - are chock-full of energizing nutrients," she explains. "Eggs provide iron, which helps deliver oxygen in your blood, b-vitamins, which convert the food you eat into energy, and selenium, which helps increase blood flow." 3. Soybeans If ever there was a controversial food, soybeans are it. In fact, research is still torn on whether soy benefits or promotes breast cancer; improves or harms people's memory as they age; and really helps prevent heart disease. According to Moskovitz, though, "soybeans in the form of tofu, edamame, or even soy milk are a vegan's best friend. They're not only a great source of complete protein, fiber and b-vitamins, but also fatigue-fighting magnesium and blood pumping iron." Whole grain carbohydrates When asked about what people should know about nutrition but probably don't, DeFazio responded: "Carbohydrates do not make you fat, and they are not the enemy. Carbohydrates fuel your body!" She suggests people eat everything from brown rice to corn tortillas to potatoes. Other nutritionists' favorites, though, include: 4. Quinoa Pronounced "key-nu-wah," this grain burst into the foodie scene a few years ago and has been hailed as a gluten free superfood ever since. In the minds of Tammy Lakatos Shames and Lyssie Lakatos, quinoa's healthy reputation is well-deserved. "It contains energy revving quality carbohydrates (they're stored in the muscles as glycogen, the body's main fuel source) that provide the fuel for your brain and for your muscles," they say. "It’s also got both fiber and protein [8 grams per cup!] to help extend that energy boost."

Or the best of both worlds with quinoa flakes oatmeal!

5. Oatmeal If you want a more traditional grain to include in your diet, oatmeal is the energy booster you've been looking for. "Oats are an example of a whole grain which is rich in complex carbohydrates as well as fiber," says Moskovitz. "This helps provide a steady source of energy into the body without causing spikes or dips in energy levels. Oats are also a rich source of energizing iron and B-vitamins." Maybe you should try ditching the coffee and load up on oatmeal instead? Nuts/Nut Butters 6. Almond Butter If the only nut butter you've ever tried is peanut butter, it's time to expand your (edible) horizons. When compared, almond butter offers more Vitamin E (an antioxidant that can help prevent cell damage), more magnesium (which supports your metabolism) and double the amount of iron. DeFazio particularly likes that almond butter "provides protein and healthy fats." 7. Pistachios If you're eating a reasonable amount of any nut or seed, recent research suggests you'll be less prone to heart disease, strokes and diabetes. However, Moskovitz likes pistachios in particular. "Not only are all nuts a good source of healthy monounsaturated fats, but pistachios also have an excellent source of lean protein, blood sugar stabilizing fiber, b-vitamins, iron and selenium," she says.

My fave source? Setton Farm's Pistachio Chewy Bites!

Fruit It's hard to go wrong with fruit. "Fresh fruit is the perfect energy-boosting food since it is high in simple carbohydrates that absorb quickly into the bloodstream," says Hever. "Fresh fruit offers a quick fix, while providing ample nutrition." If you want the ultimate energy fix, though, try out: 8. Apples You may have heard the myth that apples contain caffeine or can "wake you up" when you eat them. Unfortunately, this is just that: a myth. However, Moskovitz says: "These crisp juicy fruits are not only a great source of energizing water but their high antioxidant content has been shown to improve breathing, which makes sustained exercise feel much easier." So, even though apples may not energize you like caffeine, you may still feel like a beast during your workouts! 9. Bananas Bananas are often promoted as ideal pre-workout meals, and for good reason. According to DeFazio, "Bananas provide carbohydrates and potassium to give the body quick fuel, and they maintain hydration due to their high potassium levels."

That's right. Banana Ice Cream is officially an energy booster!

Vegetables 10. Leafy Greens Sure, maybe eating spinach won't magically transform you into Popeye. However, Hever points out that leafy greens "are the most nutritionally dense foods of all, and they provide thousands of energy-enhancing phytonutrients with very few calories and a ton of culinary possibilities." If you're not sure where to start, spinach is a rich source of iron and can help prevent or correct anemia, which often makes people feel constantly fatigued. Chard is also packed with magnesium, which makes it women's BFF to fight stress, PMS and sleep problems. 11. Sweet Potatoes For DeFazio, sweet potatoes are a winner for being a "high fiber source of carbohydrates." Hever agrees, pointing out that, like other starchy vegetables, potatoes "are wonderful sources of complex carbohydrates and phytonutrients. Because of their macronutrient profile, they are ideal for steady energy levels." The extra kick of antioxidants found in sweet potatoes is just a colorful (and tasty) bonus.

The best stuffed baked potato there is...

12. Mint Sure, mint probably doesn't initially come to mind when you think of getting your daily dose of veggies. However, the Nutrition Twins think that it should. "When you smell peppermint, it activates the trigeminal nerve, which stimulates the area of the brain responsible for arousal. This can make you feel more alert," they explain. "Thanks in part to its anti-inflammatory antioxidant rosmarinic acid, mint also calms your insides and eases indigestion, making you feel healthy and energetic." So the next time you make a fruit salad or flavored water, throw some mint inside! Liquids 13. Water One food/drink that nearly every nutritionist we talked to mentioned was good ol' water. "Dehydration can affect energy and performance a lot quicker than a poor diet," says Moskovitz. "Staying hydrated by drinking plenty of water is another important habit that keeps energy levels at their peak."

Bonus points if you drink it out of a cup like this!

Tammy Lakatos Shames and Lyssie Lakatos suggest adding lemon to cold water, especially after you first wake up. "Lemon has potassium to help balance electrolytes and to help to counteract salt--and the puffiness that comes with it," they explain. "You’ll immediately feel lighter and more energetic when you wash out extra salt, and the bloat and heaviness that comes with it." 14. Tea Another favorite beverage of the Nutrition Twin? Black, green and oolong tea. "These contain the amino acid theanine, which improves attention and alertness. Tea also has low levels of caffeine (35-50 mg/ cup compared to 8 ounces of brewed coffee’s approximately 100-140 mg, though the coffee at Starbucks can be much higher, depending on the size) which also gives an energy boost." Studies have also found that green tea can help prevent a variety of cancers, promote fat burning and reduce the risk of Alzheimers; black tea can reduce the risk of stroke and lung damage from cigarette smoke; and oolong tea can lower bad cholesterol. The Bottom Line Of course, it's important to remember that, for the best energy levels, you should rely on a balanced diet more than just a few of these energy boosting foods. "Eating the right foods with the right balance of carbohydrates, protein and fat keeps blood sugars steady, feeds glucose to the brain so you can focus, and provides calories so your body can function," says DeFazio. "Your diet is your body's fuel, like gas for your car."

Bonus points if you can get plenty of these in one meal!

When you do feel like you need a little extra kick in your gas tank, though, put down the coffee and pick up one of these foods. Your energy levels will thank you - as will the rest of your body! *Although I wrote this article, it first appeared here at Entity Magazine. Click here to read more of the articles I've worked on for Entity!* What's your go-to energizing snack? Love any of the items on this list? Comment with your ideas below! via Blogger http://ift.tt/2ngpkWc

[ronaldmorton]

Help for Dogs Fighting IMT Immune Mediated Thrombocytopenia

This is the blog post I dread writing. I always knew that Cocker Spaniels, more so than most other breeds, are extra prone to IMT, immune mediated thrombocytopenia. This blog post will serve as a journal of my dog’s battle to fight IMT, what we are experiencing, his journey, and hopefully this diary-style blog post will help answer questions about this disease and how it may affect your dog, no matter if the dog is purebred or mixed.

Saturday, October 7th, 2017

Immune Mediated Thrombocytopenia Day One

My dog is living a natural, more organic, less chemical life. He consumes an amazing diet, does not get vaccines any longer except for rabies required by law, and he never gets any sort of chemical put onto his coat or skin.

On Saturday, October 7th, my wife and I packed up the car and headed out of town for a day of fun on the beach with the dog in New Jersey. There, the dog played, ran, showed tons of energy, had snacks, and an overall amazing day was had by all.

Upon arrival back home about 11:30 pm, I decided to check my dog’s ear, as I thought he may be battling an ear infection, common in Cockers but only the second time ever for Dexter. I noticed he had some lumpy looking reddish marks on his inner ear flap. I immediately checked Dexter’s gums. They were normal in color and capillary refill was good, but he had some bleeding along the gum line, and in particular between two teeth on the right side rear portion of his mouth. I noticed splotchy red marks on the inside of his upper lip flaps, too.

My spouse and I rushed our dog to the emergency vet/hospital located about 10 minutes from our house.

He looked like this when we rushed him to the vet:

Panic and Diagnosis

We met with the emergency vet on call and went through the gamut: Discussions, tests, and more. Dexter had a platelet count of zero. Yes, zero. None. His own body’s immune system attacked platelets as if they are threat and thus, he was starting to bleed. The tentative diagnosis of IMT was made.

They did a chest x-ray and abdominal x-rays. Both normal. They do not do transfusions. We were told he would need to be hospitalized for 3 to 10 days and will be getting steroids and a chemotherapy drug to boost his platelets, among other things.

This came out of nowhere. All his other levels are fine. As of this writing, he is not anemic. When a dog is anemic in this situation, a diagnosis of IMHA (immune-mediated hemolytic anemia) is made. When IMT and IMHA are both present, the diagnosis of Evans Syndrome is made.

As of this writing, we are dealing with immune mediated thrombocytopenia (IMT).

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Day Two

We cannot bring him home until platelets stabilize. They generally check platelets when they first see the dog and then not again for 48 to 72 hours. The reason for this we are told is that whether the platelets read 0 or 7,000 that is still low. You want them in the 40,000 and up range and eventually over 200,000. Just as a side note, Dexter’s platelets at the end of June of this year were 459,000. This happened that fast.

Dexter’s red blood cells are good and so far, and praying it stays that way, no signs of anemia. That is a good thing. They are picking him for a small blood amount for in house smears. I checked his gums while there and they are good, but yes, they are bleeding. We are told that is to be expected.

No rectal or urinary blood.

We were allowed to visit twice today.

Dexter ate his food for us, had treats, showed a wagging tail, peed and pooped for Dar outside, and then he lay by me. He literally lay across me. I curled up with him and sobbed til my eyes felt like they may fall out, for an hour at least. I couldn’t help it. He had no idea. He fell asleep, and he definitely is feeling the effects of what they are giving him.

The vet is concerned about watching him over these next 3-4 days, she calls critical, so that there is no bleed into his brain or heart. He has to stay in house to be watched.

He is getting IV fluids, injectable prednisone, got one vincristine injection, doxycycline in case tick related and they don’t think it is, Baytril for infection including in ear, melatonin and Tresaderm for his ear infection.

She did a quick standing up abdominal ultrasound of him today and that was normal. The more in depth one will take place Tuesday with the internist.

His vitals were normal.

They see at least one diagnosis a day of IMT (immune mediated thrombocytopenia). The internist apparently is well versed in this. If we feel good about that, we will keep his care for this disease at that vet and then our regular vet for everything else.

At some point, if none of this works, he can be transferred to a vet hospital for immunoglobulin infusions – but we do this first and see what helps.

This will need to be treated aggressively and with frequent blood work, so I prefer this hospital that is within 10 minutes of our home. They do both emergencies and hospital care plus have specialists on staff.

The vet also said she sees dogs come in with this diagnosis and they are so much sicker outwardly, but Dexter is still guarded.

He had no vaccinations, nothing unusual, and chest x-ray and abdominal x-ray are normal, all of his bloodwork is normal except he had zero platelets. No tick borne diseases. He’s been bright alert and responsive and played yesterday, has a great appetite and drinks water.

Medications as of Day Two

Tresaderm for ear infection

Dexamethasone injectable steroid once daily

Baytril

Doxycycline in case tick mediated disease, but everything coming back negative on that end

Melatonin: Something to do with helping boost platelets

Omeprazole: Gastric care

Vincristine: One time shot

Articles of Interest on IMT in Dogs

I am keeping these articles bookmarked. I’ve learned that sometimes well-intended advice is not helpful. Every dog is different and every treatment route is different. If you read articles online, be sure the medical information is sourced and valid.

IMT Article

IMT Thorough Article

Note

This blog post will be updated regularly through our journey in diary style. Stay tuned and any prayers are needed and appreciated.

The post Help for Dogs Fighting IMT Immune Mediated Thrombocytopenia appeared first on Fidose of Reality.

Help for Dogs Fighting IMT Immune Mediated Thrombocytopenia syndicated from http://ift.tt/2k1J2Eq