Chloe, Sweet Weiner…Sour Stomach

Aren't I Cute??

     For my entire life I have been showered with compliments on how sweet and cute I was.  I guess it is all true because so many have said it and I never heard an opinion to the contrary.  It is sometimes a burden to bear but hey, somebody’s got to do it so it might as well be me.

     My name is Chloe.  I am a Miniature Dachshund.  My life is pretty much that of the little princess that I am.  My mom is my best friend. I love her very much and I am quite certain that the feeling is mutual.  So it hurt me greatly to see my mom suffer when it was I who was feeling so bad.

     It started a few months ago.  About an hour or so after I had my dinner I felt full and my stomach was really kind of nervous. Before I gave it much thought I found myself heaving up my dinner and it looked pretty much like it did when I ate it.  It hurts to throw up like that but what really got hurt was my feelings.  I was so embarrassed for my mom to see the mess I made. I wanted to just crawl into a hole. She never scolded me because she knew I didn’t mean to mess in the house. 

     After several days I think mom got concerned and took me to the doctor.  I hate going to the doctor. All those smells and all those strange people poking and pushing and taking blood and such.  It is very degrading you know.  After a while they explained to my mom that I just needed some medicine to help settle my stomach and I should be fine. I took my medication just like they said but I just couldn’t seem to get better. I could tell mom was getting really worried but  she tried to put on a brave face for me.  I love my mom.

     Somewhere my mom heard about a new doctor in town.  She was becoming so concerned about me and thinking the worst because I could not stop throwing up.  She and I went to see the new doctor one day.  I wasn’t worried about me, I was worried about my mom.  I felt guilty because I knew it was me that was causing all the fuss.

     My new doctor seemed nice enough and quietly listened to the whole story that my mom told about what had been going on in our lives. It was a little embarrassing again but I snuggled her while she went on with the story, occasionally stopping to answer his questions.  Sometimes I could hear mom crying and her pain hurt me so bad.  I wanted to get better for her.  My new doctor told my mom that he was pretty sure he knew what was wrong with me. Pyloric stenosis he said, and it sounded really scary.

     He told mom that I had to have some x-rays after I swallowed some barium and that would tell them if food was staying in my stomach too long. That barium stuff tasted pretty good to me because I had not kept much food down in days. Apparently it was really soothing on my stomach because it went right on through just like it was supposed to. My new smarty pants doctor (actually I was really starting to like him) had to eat a double helping of crow and tell mom he was wrong. I could tell that he felt really strongly that he was right and I was kind of feeling bad for him as mom gave him that “look” as he tried to come up with plan “B”. 

     I vomited plan “B” all over mom’s floor for the next several days and she was about to come apart at the seams.  She must have liked my new doctor because she and I went back down there and cried some more.  I could see the pain on his face.  He was worried about my mom but I believed he was going to fix me somehow.  Mom had her doubts though.  This time he gave me a bunch of solid food with my barium and I could not make it go through.  After almost 2 hours I threw it up. The food had never made it past my stomach.  He finally had his proof and convinced my mom, once again, that I indeed had this pyloric stenosis thing, whatever that is. 

     Somehow he convinced my mom that he could take me to surgery and fix me.  She really busted his chops on that idea.  She did everything but make him walk on coals before she would allow such a thing to her little princess. But mom was a train wreck. Something had to give so she agreed to give it a try.  I though he was right all along but who am I to say?  Like I said, I was really starting to like him at his point.

    As I was waking up from my surgery, my good looking doctor was standing over me with a big smile. He hugged me and told me that it was over and that I would have my life back again.  Then he gave me a shot of some pain medication and I too smiled and then went back to sleep. Shortly after I woke up again, my mom was there. My tummy hurt but somehow I knew all was well again.

      He told my mom that he found an adhesion (whatever that is) from when I was spayed and that had caused the whole vomiting thing.  He was sure that all was well.  Boy did those words come back to haunt him.

     For a few days it was like old times.  Mom took Christmas goodies to my new doctor and his staff to thank them for all they did for me.  She was so happy again and I was too.  Christmas was going to be merry for our family. Mom was afraid to feed me much because I just had stomach surgery. Then one day I did it. I couldn’t help it. It just happened and I spit up again.  Mom almost broke down. She started to get that worried look again, reduced my food to teeny little meals and, oh my, I vomited again, and again.

     She stayed up all night on the computer.  She was determined to find out what was wrong with me.  I felt bad for her.  I spit up some more. I’m sorry mom.

     When we got in the exam room the next day it was like a congressional inquiry.  Mom really leaned on my doctor. She kind of busted his chops. But he wouldn’t budge. He was still convinced I would be OK but mom made him read about 40 pages of highlighted testimony that she brought to the trial. When all the cross examination was done and the prosecution rested he somehow convinced mom to let me be his dog for a while. She must have been really tired. I am sorry mom.

     I was OK with the idea because we just had a big time once mom left.  He made her go home and get me some home cooking so I wouldn’t have to eat hospital food (yuck) and to bring back my ball so we could play. He fed me and fed me and we played and played and we just had a great time.  I never felt like I needed to throw up.  It was great and I stayed with him for 2 and a half days.  I really grew to like him but I did miss mom. She came to see me and was really happy that I was happy. She started to look like the sun was starting to shine in her world again. I was so happy again.

     That is all it was. Mom just wasn’t giving me enough food and my stomach just could not get well.  Of course, she didn’t know and my doctor couldn’t figure it out either until he increased the amount of food just to see if I could keep it down.  He told me over and over that I was well and, I guess I finally believed him.  Did I say he was really cool?

     That’s pretty much the story as I remember it.  Sorry it took so long to tell it but it is important to understand how much everyone loves me.  I think mom digs my doctor too and he likes her too, in spite of that trial thing.  When I was sick he told me to please get well soon or he was in big trouble with my mom. Well I did and it’s all good now, did I say thank you? And aren’t I cute?