Doctor Day

Whew! I'm back home...got my feet up in my lounge-luge, with the replay of last night's Braves-Cards game on TV. Shhh...don't tell me who won...I didn't have time to read the paper this morning to see the score. It'll be like it's happening for the first time. Heck, as tired as I am, I'll probably fall asleep somewhere in the middle anyway...wake up during tonight's "live" game and still won't know the score of this replay. Sigh.

Ah well...I'm just having a late-day energy slump...nothing really wrong. With me, that is...more on that in a minute.

Busy couple of weeks here at Casa 3917. Some of the happenings are garden-related, since it's the time of the year when the summer harvest is coming in fast and furious. This week has been the peak harvest week for the Roma and the Juliet tomatoes, both of which are Determinate varieties...meaning their fruit ripens "all at once" (actually over several days to a couple weeks) and then they are done for the season...well, forever actually.

I've put up 10 freezer bags-full and two half-gallon freezer containers of tomatoes, so far, and we will enjoy them in chili, spaghetti, and soups throughout the coming winter months. Because the green, sweet red, and jalapeƱo peppers are also ready, I'm making salsa this week, too. Will finish that up tomorrow. Here's the post on our garden blog...click here to go there...

Had to take time out today, though, for Doctor Day...which is what I'm beginning to think that Friday has morphed into. Started out with Abbie's six-months' checkin-visit at the vet's for her bordatella booster...and a much needed nail trim. All's well with our no-longer 'baby puppy,' pictured in her harness on the ride home below. When the tech got her on the scale for the weigh-in...well, I was gob-smacked, as they say across the pond. She now weighs...wait for it, wait for it...



F O R T Y - N I N E and 1/2  P O U N D S ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

No way! It's not like she's fat...next to the Bassets, she still looks model-thin. And she sure is lean and muscular looking as she races around the Way Back. We aren't over-feeding her. If anything, we may have to check to see if we are feeding her enough, based on her weight. I've used the chart for 30-40 pounds when measuring out her 3/4 cup of kibble, for breakfast and dinner. 

For sure, Dr. K had guesstimated Abbie's adult weight (based on her 4-month checkin weight of 21 lbs.) as around 44-48 pounds. And the standards for adult Australian Shepherds (which her momma was) say 35-55 pounds, so we shouldn't be too surprised. But, I've thought of Abbie as a rat terrier (under 40 pounds adult weight) for so long...and I do believe her poppa was a holy terrier of some sort...that I was just floored when the display on the scales registered 49.5. Goodness gracious.

Oh well, something tells me it won't matter one iota when she leaps into my lap and takes up her usual position on the foot rest of my recliner...just like in this pic with Mr. T. 



Now, about that ice pack on his right shoulder...

After returning Abbie home and running a few errands,  it was time to head out to the orthopedic clinic. Mr. T had an appointment with the PA for evaluation of his continuing (and worsening) shoulder pain. Our primary care doc had ordered an X-ray last Friday, which showed what he called "chronic dislocated shoulder with a Hill-Sachs lesion." Say what?

First question: if you had a dislocated shoulder, don't you think you'd know it? Or, at least know when you dislocated it?

Second question: how can something be chronic if you've never had it before...to your knowledge?

Third question: what can be done to fix it...just fix it? 

The cortisone shot he had three weeks ago hasn't helped much, and it's too soon to give another. Celebrex, which is the best anti-inflammatory choice of the NSAIDS, is no longer working as well...and Dr. K (our primary care doc, not Abbie's vet...confusing, isn't it?) has warned Mr. T to stop taking additional aspirin and ibuprofen for pain relief, or suffer the consequences which will most likely be an ulcer. The pain pills (he's tried three kinds) cannot be taken if he has to drive (which is a big part of his job)...and aren't helping much at night. Heat doesn't work. Ice isn't giving much relief. Too much pain to get any help from therapy exercises. Double sigh. Triple, even.

Enter the PA today. She conducted a physical exam and didn't mention a dislocated shoulder, other than to say "if your shoulder were dislocated, you couldn't rotate your arm like that." She thinks it's a torn rotator cuff. And to confirm that, Mr. T needs an MRI. So, that's scheduled for...wait for it, wait for it...next Friday.

Or, should I say "next Doctor Day." Stay tuned...

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