Blind Cockapoo, Gilbert

Gilbert is almost 8 yo.  He’s been a joy and a companion for all that time.  He’s a therapy dog who comes to work with me.  So many patients have benefitted from his love and some have actually been cured of their fears or paranoia by his persistence. He has sailed the ocean in my Sailing Vessel, Giri. He is most known for riding on the back of my Harley Davidson Electroglide, to and from work. He’s ridden in the Rides for Dad rallies with his friends Dave and Dave’s dog Emory.  Last year, hearing me say how much I loved the Guess Who when we hired them for the Vincent Massey High School dance for $500 and ever since, he rode on the back of my Harley to Sturges North in Merritt. There he heard the incredible Burton Cummings and loved him.  Given my own history of being shot at, stabbed, held hostage and repeatedly falsely accused by psychotic borderline personality disorder patients or sociopathic drug addicts, he’s been what keeps me getting out of bed going to work.
Last spring he developed hereditary glaucoma, correctly diagnosed by Dr. Christopher Douglas at Oak Animal  Hospital. He was referred to a Veterinary Ophthalmologist but despite best treatment his pressure didn’t come down.  Dr. Christina King his much loved Veterinary Ophthalmologist at Western Canada Veterinary Eye Specialists removed that eye and he did very well. Once the eye was removed the pressure which was like a constant migraine was removed. While he hated the horrid cone of shame that made other dogs think he’d had the dreaded orchiectomy, he recovered very well, returning temperamentally quickly to his old carefree friendly self.  He had months more of sight with his remaining eye. Then one day that eye went red and he curled up in a fetal position despite the drops we’d been giving him.  He saw Dr. King and despite a couple of weeks more of intensive medical treatment the pressure didn’t come down and really was out of sorts. Both times when the pressure first went up he lost his sight and it just simply didn’t return despite treatment.  This apparently was what usually happened as well as the loss of the second eye some time in the year after the diagnosis of the first eye.

So the surgical date , a thursday , was set and his eye was removed. The cone of shame was especially difficult now that he was completely blind.  As well he’d just about figured out every way to avoid the tramadol pain killer I”d been giving him since the second eye pressure went up.  I tried peanut butter, liver, roast beef, ice cream.  He’d find that tramadol and spit it out.  The Metacam NSAI he accepted very well, the manufacturer having obviously considered taste whereas the tramadol folk lacked a dog palate.   For 2 nights he was in pain, the first with me holding him most of the night and the next with Laura coming over for the weekend calming him half the night. Mostly he was lonely and afraid and confused.  He hated the cone banging into everything with it.
And all the other dogs wouldn’t play with him because they didn’t want their genitals or butt banged by the hard plastic edge of the cone. He couldn’t even lick himself.  We reassured him. It wasn’t personal and wasn’t even sexual.  He was a good dog. I said that every sentence.  It was such a hard time. Good dog, Gilbert. Good boy.  And Laura reassured her little fur baby too.
Dr. King took off his cone last week saying that he’d healed just fine when she took out the sutures. “I”m sorry to tell you but the eye’s all okay but you dog has fleas.”  I felt as ashamed as a parent whose teacher tells them her kid has scabies.
He’s on monthly Sentinel. I’ve sprayed all his beds with industrial dose flea killer and even took him in to Oak for the nuclear subcutaneous Men in Black 3 bug killing one shot injection.  Still he’s got fleas.It’s been a bad year. My patients have human fleas, lice. Vancouver has the highest priced property in the world and everywhere there’s bed bugs.The rats come up from the shoreline and run through the $500 to $1000 a night hotels.  It’s all quite absurd. Despite working through the Aids epidemics with the Aids Dementia patients I had my personal melt  down, despite my doctor denial armour, when a patient dumped a bottle of bed bugs and lice on my desk to show me  "how bad it was.”  I didn’t need that.
Two bottles of Kwellada total body washes for a couple of days immersion healing got me back into my standard denial. So many of my patients have resistant staphylococcus infections, cellulitis, hepatitis, AIDS, injection site abscesses.  Now my dog had fleas. So I went through all the treatments, sprayed everything and concluded that maybe George the indoor cat was passing them back and forth. But Laura and I both looked George over and no fleas and no eggs and no scratching.  I just don’t think the Sentinel is working so plan to see the veterinarian and ask if Sentinel resistant fleas have come along.
George, Laura’s rescue cat, a skittish surly guy, has become Gilbert’s best friend and confidant since Gilbert's sbecome blind. Each morning Gilbert wakes up and goes off to rub nose with George then the two of them play before Gilbert and I head out to work.
My nephew Graeme sent Gilbert a toy for blind dogs, a ball he rolls about with his nose.  When the toy moves it  groans and laughs. Gilbert loves it. We knew he was back to his old self when he began throwing his wee hedgehog toy at Laura for her to throw back to him. I throw him a ball but he loses it. He likes the Kong toy filled with peanut butter. He smells that out.
He’s only slowly learning to locate things purely by smell. I have to remember that it's only days he's been totally blind and that he'll just keep learning.  In time I may teach him a blues  guitar and get him some gigs on the road to bring in doe for kibbles..
His nemesis is getting caught behind a half open door. He’s woofs then, unable to turn around and not quite sure how to back up. Laura and I have both rescued him several times from that dilemma.
In the new motels and cabins we’ve stayed at he’s had difficulty the first day orienting himself but by the next he’s pretty settled. Strange sounds upset him.  He’s thoroughly at home at my place but even now sitting outside he barks when he smells something but there’s nothing I can see.
Hunting on the weekend I took him along in the evening in the truck.  He liked being along.  He’s a bird hunting dog and always found my grouse for me when I shot them.  He retrieved the birds though they were as big as his little head.  When I shot a deer once he raced to it before I could get there and when the deer started to raise it’s head he jumped on top of it holding it’s head down till I arrived and put the deer of it’s misery. I always feel sorry for that deer in deer heaven shamefully explaining he was killed by a cockapoo.
We walked along way down a logging road, brush and pine and fir trees along one side with an open clearing along the other.  I was carrying the rifle and hoping a deer might come down that hill the other side of the clearing.  I let Gilbert off leash with a little blue flashing light on his collar. He walked behind me as I stalked quietly along realizing Gilbert's flashing blue light and my snapping my fingers and calling to Gilbert might not go unnoticed by the deer.  I ‘d look back and see him following as he usually did. Then he wasn’t there and I remembered in the past he’d take off circling to raise a grouse I might have passed. Only now he was hung up in fallen trees in their maze of branches with me having to call him orient him to the way out. This happened a couple of times with me actually once having to climb over the trees and lift him out of where he’d got himself stuck. After that he stayed close behind me. It’s all a steep learning curve.
He likest to lie on the bed beside me.  Laura saw him jump up on the bed and sit beside me listening to my breathing with his head cocked. Then as if he could see he had his head just above my chest before he lunged forward and lay right across me. This is one of his early morning wake up statements. Normally he’s on my chest but this time he was just off a tad and I had cockapoo draped arcorss my face.  “Good Morning, Gilbert!”  His tail still wags a mile a minute.
He’s vulnerable but loves meeting other dogs. They say blind dogs in the wild stay with the pack and survive. Blindness in older dogs is quite common.  I’m Gilbert’s pack.  When my father went blind Mom who was going deaf became  his eyes as he was her ears. With all Gilbert's growling and barking at strange noises I think he thinks I’m deafer than normal. He’s elevated himself to Guard Dog too, something I’d discouraged before when he was hunter and therapy dog. But it gives him purpose now. In time he’ll be an even better therapy dog and hunting dog.  I might even get him dark glasses and a seeing eye companion dog. I already have a blind dog white leash but draw the line there. My dog’s not getting a cane and cup with a hand printed sign.  I say that now but with the way Canada’s economy is being mismanaged, I might have to reconsider our options.
I like holding him closer more.  Knowing that my carrying him up and down stairs was tough on me,  he began making his way up and down himself.  Since the cone's gone, he's been doing everything he can to be independent again. Better natured than me he's going to adapt. However, he’s had so many treats from Laura and I this past week it will be tough to get him back on his regular kibbles and little caesar’s.  I say that but know he’ll be sharing the grouse I shot this weekend when I get around to barbecuing it.  He's had barbecued steak last week and prime beef on the weekend.
We will prevail.  I think of him as a little biblical Samson as well.  I feel too he’s Gloucester of Shakespeare’s Lear. All the Blinded character’s in history are now here in Gilbert enshrined. He's given me a whole new appreciation for those who are blind and the amazing cyborg eye advances happening technologically.
As I'm adapting to my increasing deafness and loss of taste I can still help Gilbert  who is blind and doing his best to warn me of dangers, albeit too frequently. I’m reminded when I think of the two of us old warriors of the picture I have from the horrific Japanese Changi WWII Prison I visited in  Singapore.  I made a point of going there after having had the privilege of having a surviving vet from that place as a patient.  I brought back the sketch, "Two Malarias and a Cholera"  by  Ray Parkin.
I'm reminded too of the story of the child,  who seeing all the bad news of CNN and CBC,  asked her mother how humans could be so bad.  The mother instead told her to look for the "helpers." “There are always helpers.” she said.
So in Changi when the prisoners fell from disease the Japanese told the other prisoners  to leave them to die not letting the healthier men leave their work to help them. Instead two men with malaria between them helped the worse man with cholera back to camp that day.
Gilbert’s always been a helper.  It’s in the nature of cockapoo.   He’s been the best of little dogs and my heart goes out to him now.  We're in this together and we're get through and thrive.  Like that amazing woman I met , Heidi Cave,  who wrote the book, "Fancy Feet, Turning My Tragedy into Hope."  

Despair, Blindness and Recuperation

Gilbert, my cockapoo dog, had hereditary glaucoma.  It presented with a red eye and pain which Dr. Douglas at Oak Animal Hospital correctly diagnosed. He lost his sight immediately in that first eye because the high pressure in the orb destroyed the sensitive optic nerve.    Dr. King of Western Canada Veterinary Eye Specialists eventually surgically removed that eye when the pressure didn’t come down with months of medication therapy.  The increased pressure in the eye was like a constant migraine for Gilbert. He slept a lot and was sad. When the eye was removed he was his old happy go lucky perky self returned.  We had the joy of this for the next few months until one day a couple of weeks back his remaining eye became red and painful.  Dr. King measured the pressure the next day. It was really high and didn’t come down with a week of therapy. He was completely blind now so we scheduled surgery which occurred last Thursday.
He was really sad. I had dropped him off in the morning at the New Westminister Western Canada Eye Specialist Surgery.  No food the night before.  Blind now , he banged into the door entering. There were several other dogs there.  Eye problems are common in dogs and especially in some breeds like pugs and cocker spaniels.  My favourite Scottish band is “Old Blind Dog” which I’d never realized highlights the problem of loss of sight in aging dogs.  I left my afternoon clinic to pick him up and bring him back. He was a bit disoriented and was able to sleep through my session with Brad. Brad and Gilbert have been friends for years so it was great that he just happened to be the patient I had to see that day. The staff at the Royal Columbia Clinic were so understanding too with Belinda and Dr. Waterson making all the right cooing caring animal love noises that made Gilbert feel safe. He was obviously scared and vulnerable.
Taking him home I saw him hesitant and anxious and confused.  He didn’t like being out in the open.  In my Miata and finally at home he was better. He hates the cone though it’s necessary to keep him from scratching out the stitches.  As the anesthesia wore off he wimpered and cried and my heart was torn out. I tried everything to get him to take the 25 mg tramadol pain kller. He’d had to have a half tab twice a day the few days before the surgery.  But he was getting wise to my evil machinations to drug him. He rejected his favourite cheese, peanut butter, and even left over steak. He’d take the food and spit out the pill.  Apparently the taste is horrid.  It was a breeze to get him to take the 250 mg Cephelexin antibiotic tablet. That’s twice a day.  I just gave him one today. To get the tramadol into him finally I found the deer heart I had frozen, microwaved it rare and slipped the pill in the red meat. He wouldn’t take any more of that dog delicacy after that but I got another in the Liver Pate Sausage which has worked since for the Cephalexin.
He cried and whimpered the first night. I’d hold him, stroke him, and he’d settle for a few minutes, then I’ d doze and wake again to his crying. I remembered my mother sitting up with me as a child when I had stomach aches.  I missed her.  I was crying in the night with Gilbert crying.  Talking to God of course. I’ve been feeling overwhelmed since my brother died, then my friend, George, and Richard and then Bill in ICU and Gilbert.  All along the government has accepted the lying false allegation of a female psychotic sociopath.  I’ve only justgot through  a year of another threatening to kill me and my dog and the College of Physicians and Surgeons with their ‘the customer is always right’ approach to complaints blaming me for upsetting the patient.  Only when he threatened to kill Justin Trudeau did the government  take me seriously about this man’s dangerousness. Most people think doctors are protected but we simply are not. The suicides of doctors and the attacks on doctors go unheard. I’m there in the middle of the night holding my crying dog fending off my own self pity and praying.  Not why Jesus?  That’s a child’s question.  But how do we carry on, Jesus?  Help me get through this. Help Gilbert please Lord.
The Jesus story tells of the Herod’s and Pilots of Government with all the cowardly beurocrats made famous at the Nuremberg trials by Arendt’s description of the ‘banality of evil’.  Our courts encourage ‘false allegations’. It’s the hallmark of aetheist leftist communist beurocracy and government.  But my dog is to me like Samson, betrayed by a woman, and his eyes torn out, blind and chained in the temple of the false god enemy.  I think of the poor guy as a part of me.  I feel I’ve attracted evil by fighting it. My last dog was murdered by drug addicts and drug dealers because I wouldn’t lie about their positive urine tests and say they were negative and that they weren’t marijuana smokers. I was working in the US at the time and government jobs required a clean urine test.  So they threatened to kill our dogs, the South African doctor and me, and then both dogs were killed.  The DEA told me my life was threatened.  I’d done the right thing but it’s always at high personal cost. I’m so upset these days seeing Justin Trudeau our lying prime minister pot head getting rich as a dope smoker and all the others who have invested in vice these days. The latest pervert was Harvey Weinstein, the love of feminists.  It’s all so troubling in the wee hours of the night unable to get a dog to take another tramadol, unable to stop my baby from fussing.
At least I didn’t think of killing him.  I have treated so many mothers who after nights of sick babies have thought that.I’ve never judged.  Gilbert’s been my reason for living.  With all the government hatred of doctors and me in particular I’ve felt this overwhelming urge at times to ‘identify with the aggressor’.  Anything to end the suffering and humiliation.  I have done my best devoted myself to doing what is right and yet I’m never perfect enough. I loved reading the American Specialist College report saying that Government and Insurance Companies demand 90 minutes of activities for every 15 minutes of patient visit before the patient has even stated their complaint. And I’ve chosen, as a Christian , as ugly as Christians are considered today,  to work in the area of ‘greatest need’ with the ‘sickest people’  where the patients and doctors are stigmatized together and the government creates most of the problems for both.  Everywhere I look there are strutting Eva Brawns finding fault and being critics and demanding more and more limelight , resources and money while in the front lines there’s never another pair of hands.
And here I am facing another night without sleep, after thousands of nights not sleeping for patients and strangers, and I’m unable to help my dog any more than I was able to help my brother and my friends.  I really wasn’t a very good son either because my Father and Mother deserved so much better. I was such a sucker for the shallow when I was young. I thought Pierre Trudeau was so smart and sexy until I was much older and realized how right my parents had been about what a terrible wasteful bully of Prime Minister he’d been. We used to argue over the dinner table. Dad and Mom didn’t like the drinking and drugging either.  I realize now they wondered where they’d gone wrong. Mom was Irish and blamed herself for all the wrongs and sickness of her children but never took credit for their success.  I think that if I was a better Christian or a deeper Yogi I could have healed my dog’s sight. I trusted the Vets and wonder if I’d stopped my work and devoted myself to only him maybe I could have found a cure. I felt that with my brother too that I should focus solely on his illness. Yet I’d told my ex wife I could treat her and her depression and addiction alone or I could go to work with hundreds of others but I couldn’t do both. She wanted all of me and was always angry that I wouldn’t bring her more drugs, that she had to go out and get her own and that we tried to interfere with her addiction.  I find treating addiction the greatest challenge of my career. Everyone hates you. The patients, the families, and the government but there’s the drug pushers and candy men like Trudeau and everyone loves them. I was a bar tender and I was so loved by my customers back then.  I hold my dog and calm him in the night crying and thinking about Jesus.  Jesus suffers with us. On the cross with the liars and the thieves.  I’m not alone with my dog.
We come through the night and I go to work and don’t make a mistake. The College of Physicians and Surgeons and the Lawyers and the Premier and the Prime Minister and the patients demand absolute perfection from the doctor. One mistake and I’m punished for years.  I must smile always too.  I’m judged most on customer service. It’s better to cut off the wrong leg than God forbid ‘emotionally abuse’ someone.  I stopped a doctor and nurse killing patients and have never been forgiven. They were important people.  It’s okay to police nobodies. I’m a scapegoat and a jay walker whose crimes allow countless beurocratic police to avoid bothering the Hitlers and Stalin’s, the Kim Jong Un’s of the world. Hillary Clinton got away with Benghazi, there’s Hanoi Jane, and yet we all know that some woman claimed to remember that Trump groped her 40 years before.
I left Gilbert at home feeling guilty and alone.  I’m thankful Laura, his other love was coming over later.  When I got back I took him for another walk. He balks at everything. It’s terrible to see.  I remember my Dad going blind and my mother going deaf.  Losses sap the confidence.  I just got hearing aids and a few years back after a year of sinusitis lost a lot of my sense of smell.  The tuberculosis medication I took after getting TB working on the northern Canada Indian reserves might have contributed. A year of dangerous antibiotic treatment and they still say I don’t care. I’ll never be as good enough and perfect as a beurocrat or Prime Minister.  So many people are above the law but we’re all caught in God’s law.  Life and death and for a few of us taxes.  There’s all those Liberals with off shore accounts and French Canadian corporations with government bail outs and the good honest criminals like Mafia and Tong.    I was just thankful I didn’t get AIDS when I was treating the AIDs dementia patients getting spit on by them.  I preferred the fellows threatening me with guns and knives wanting drugs.  I ‘m terrified of the unseen like death.  I’m so depressed and crying, walking my dog feeling his fear and not being able to do anything for him. He startles at the slightest sounds.  I’m ridiculous as a man. Only women can show their feelings in Canada. They lied and told me it would be good if we were vulnerable but that just let the lizards get ahead while we pointed to the vulnerable bits where they hit us again and again.
i pray the St. Patrick’s Breastplate prayer for us, Christ above, Christ below, Christ beside, Christ in front, Christ Behind, - I beg for protection for us both. I pray he gets well. I don’t know what I will do with another love gone. I remember that Peter and Gordon song, “I don’t want to live in a world without love.” My ex wives hated me for leaving them.  Ironically the one who left me remains friendly.  But the following ones ended in loveless addicted rages dominated by angry insane drunken mother’s in laws.  I think of karma and blame and keep coming back to how if I’d been a better person and followed the rules and turned a blind eye to the killing by my superiors and shut the fuck up and not fought city hall and maybe just agreed and been pleasant with everyone and done as I was told , maybe my dog wouldn’t be blind. I used to think it was because I drank and smoked dope too much one year, a year sailing, a year after decades of service and duty and dealing with disease and death, a year I thought I’d have a break but there’s no break.  Justin Trudeau’s today offering me marijuana and euthanasia.  He’s on the wrong side of history. The youth today want fentanyl.  Trudeaus still the gateway to the abyss.
His father made having babies too expensive and everyone got abortions instead. Mortgentaller the greatest butcher of Canada got the Order of Canada for killing Catholic and Christian babies.  Pierre Trudeau ruined the Canadian economy and made it such that only the rich and immigrants and those single mothers in the government harem had children. Others were forced to work when they’d have gladly had children and lived a life like Sophie, Justin Trudeau’s wife with her palace life and nannies and her feminist husband.  I’m old today and I am offered marijuana and euthanasia. They’re even denying the old and dying opiates unless they want to go to the free heroin injection sites. It’s a theatre of the absurd.  Waiting for Godot.
I am so happy when my dog pees.  The fear post surgery is dehydration. It’s so hard to get him to drink.. I was worried he might need an IV.  I had to drag him to keep him moving. He put his butt down and wanted to die and saw me as so unkind.   I was so horrible so unhappy dragging the little guy.  Meanwhile there’s a whole lot of people phoning the SPCA to report my Cruelty to Animals. They don’t really care about him.  They weren’t up all night when he had his other eye removed  or this last night. They’re just seeing this big ugly old white guy dragging a little dog with a cone on his head and it’s so terrible that horrid man doing that to that little dog.  But he’s moving. He’d rather lie down in a corner and die. I want to lie down in a corner and die. I don’t want to go to work. I don’t want to turn on the news. I want to sail away into a hurricane and spend another month at sea alone fighting cold and high winds and leaks and navigating against currents and winds and living.  This is Chinese Water Torture.  More and more taxes and everything costs more and more and everyone hates and scorns and complains and there’s never enough because all the money goes to Media and Senators and Sports and War. The Security Council of the UN is simply the principle arms dealers of the world. We’re living in the perpetual war that Marx wanted.  We’re never going to see a worker’s paradise. Arjuna and Krishna knew this.  There will always be war and Canada is an arms dealer protected by the greatest country in history, the American Empire.  And everyone lives a lie.
My dog wants to curl up and die and I want to curl up and die and realize how much I depended on his daily joy because now I can hardly carry on.  I know parents don’t suicide like single people. I know that families that stay together are the most successful.  I know that if I’d been a better husband my marriage might have lasted. I I know all the mental health statitistics. I go to church and meetings and pray and meditate but nothing I do prepares me for my dog inconsolably  crying in wee hours of the night.
Laura arrives and we’ve come through the storm.  He’s in despair the rest of day but obviously is better lying on the couch between us.  At night she’s up half the night and I’m up half the night.  But the tide is turning. He had a poop at night. Such a good sign.  I want to dance and shout hallelujah. I was dragging him about  3 am because he was crying so loud.  But he peed some more. When he returned he drank more water.  In the morning he perked up when another dog went by on . He’s trusting me and doesn’t need to be dragged but prances high stepping behind me.
It was a long day.  I barbecued steaks and he ate a whole one himself cut in bits and hand fed Laura and me.   I’m afraid of the future. More dying to come.  He may be through this storm but how long can we live. I’m in ‘acceptance’.  I’m in ‘surrender’.  I’m praying and just figuring everyone is doing their best. If the government folk could do what Einstein did they’d not be playing police for the the UN warlords.  I like George Carlin saying ‘they own us’. All the talk of slavery and it not about now. Richard says, “It’s like I’m here in today struggling to get ahead and get by and everyone I meet is saying that I’m supposed to give them stuff for free because of something that happened before they were even alive’.  I can’t blame them for wanting it or taking it.   I just don’t ever see them giving up anything to those beneath them in these ‘generational’ arguments.  It’s all about who sets the ‘terms of reference’.
I’m not that good a manager. My father had a hundred and fifty men working under him and I don’t feel I”m very good at taking care of my dog.  Everyone claims they’re just following the rules. Dad was different. He was a real leader, respected and admired. Not many like that these days.  Mostly the leaders lead from behind.  We laughed because Dad was never in his suit but always in work clothes down with the men getting dirty and taking risks.  Todays’ leaders shoot you in the back, throw you under the bus.  They’re effete school boys who come with a brand name.  They disparage the old. I worry about us getting older.
Everyone has been so supportive with Gilbert.  Friends have come by and asked how we’re doing. I’m always stiff upper lip.  I liked that Dave and Emory his dog , Gilbert’s friend, showed concern. He understands. Most do.  We’re all , everyone I know at least, working stiffs, middle class or lower, getting by, being abused and disparaged by the elites and caring for family while doing more and more work for less and less.  There’s no room for sick dogs , sick children, sick old people. All they get is marijuana and euthanasia.
I liked reading a book, My Dog Is Blind, by Nicole Horsky.  A book anyone could read. Not too heavy on information but useful and reassuring . I liked that she said only one person asked why I didn’t put the dog down. Everyone else was supportive. No one has asked or suggested I put Gilbert down. I thought of it.  We’re living in a throw away consumer society.  The government is savaging the old.  Pensions after years of work are less than refugee’s scab voter pay.  Only the rich get medical care they need because the middle class and poor get waitlists instead.  I liked my patient who said how sorry he was to hear Gilbert was okay after surgery. He’d said how if he had a dog being so poor he’d not have been able to afford that and the dog would have had to be put down.  I’ve always worked and learned young to save and even in siege and war have tried to put some aside for rainy days, and now see the government stealing even that like the English stole the potatoes of the Irish and Scots.  I am thankful I could pay for the surgery.  I would have had a child but the woman aborted my baby. I would have adopted but I didn’t want the government living in my home.  The women I knew had lost their children to political correctness. As many children the kiddy police have saved the abuse of parents and families here is as great.  I  worked in the area and saw the utter disdain and abuse of children of the vulnerable by the courts, not because the children were at risk but because the parents were different and not politically correct . Even having a dog is frightening in Canada with everyone watching everyone and everyone having an opinion. In communist countries it’s always like living in an old Invasion of the Body Snatchers movie and these busy body government agent politically correct folk coming out without any risk to themselves to report and judge their neighbors.  They can smash your windows if a dog is inside panting. I can’t be a man in this country without being condemned and now I’m an old white man long past his due date with an old blind dog.
But he’s better today. He slept through the night. He’s peed today. No poop yet but he took the antibiotic in the liver worst.  Laura has been here and she’s been reassuring.
I know it’s a storm. I’ve been in hurricanes and survived typhoons.  It’s weird watching trees fly over your head.  This too will pass. I’m crazy enough when I’m nearly dying, when people have been shooting at my house, and gangs have been facing me with chains and knives.  I escaped from a group of Muslim men who robbed me and were screaming ‘Kill the Infidel”.  I escaped from a drunk Indian shooting at me screaming ‘Kill the Whitey’.  The acute stuff is easy. The slow chronic stuff like blindness and pain and life are harder. I’m older and it’s harder to deny death. One of the greatest books of all time was  the psychiatrist, Ernest Becker’s “Denial of Death”.
This is just normal life. Gilbert’s better.  This too will pass.  The cone comes off in 8 days.   I'm grateful for the life that Gilbert and I have shared. I'm grateful for the excellent surgery. I'm thankful for Laura, George and friends.
Intergalactic Space Aliens will finally arrive. They're all look like unicorns and leprechauns.  God is good.

Gilbert 's Cockapoo Glaucoma

One afternoon my little therapy cockapoo dog Gilbert just curled up whimpering in his doggie couch at my office while my disheartened patient shared the depth of his melancholy with me. I just thought that my assistant had again forgotten to take Gilbert out for a walk and he was desperate to go.  I was working overtime as usual, but realizing something more serious was wrong with Gilbert, apologetically wrapped up my session .  Sadly Gilbert was stiff and in obvious pain. I picked up my loving little guy in my arms and carried him to the car.  On the way to Oak Hospital I called only to hear they were closing and wanted me to go to Oak Hospital’s Burrard location.
With the little guy whimpering and traffic a mess I was devastated with thoughts of self recrimination raging in my head and the physical pain in my chest.  At the hospital I told the girl “Gilbert’s got a red and  is in such pain he’s frozen.” I’d noted the red eye while I carried him in. She spoke to the veterinarian in the back and returned saying rather matter of factly,  “We can’t see you now. The earliest would be at midnight.”  It was 6 pm.  It seemed impossibly long.
Then I thought of the tens of thousands of parents and children across Canada desperately waiting in emergency rooms for over worked suicidal doctors.  I couldn’t judge.  Even though I personally had given my life to healing, working in the areas of greatest needs, gravitating to those least cared for and most marginalized.
What could I do. I’m a doctor and have all my life responded to emergencies and given all I can.  I just held my stiff whimpering little dog in my arms and  cried in my car ,praying to God to help us.   I drove to Laura’s knowing Gilbert would be more comfortable with her present. She loves him as I do.
At midnight I returned and learned that Gilbert had glaucoma, increased pressure in his eye, a true ophthalmic emergency that because of the delay had already likely lead to blindness. Thankfully Dr. Douglas made the correct diagnosis. I’d diagnosised the condition in humans and saved the sight of some patients when I worked as a country family physician. I’d used a Schiotz Stainless Steel Tonometer and was impressed that Dr. Douglas had a much more advanced digital device.
When I told him I’d treated glaucoma in humans, Dr. Douglas, a bright young Irish doctor, explained, “It’s easier with humans, only because they can tell you their eye hurts. In dogs we never know early because for them it’s just like having a headache until it gets really bad and then it’s like the worst migraine. That’s when we realize something is wrong and find the glaucoma too late. It’s common in cocker spaniels and poodles.  Usually coming on in older age.  The optic nerve is damaged by the intraocular pressure on it.   There’s a real risk for both eyes going blind and the hope is that we can save the second eye knowing the dog is now at risk. “ I really appreciated that Dr. Douglas was frank but caring in his sharing of the facts with me.
That night he provided the drops to lower the pressure in the eye and addressed Gilbert's pain with an injection. He gave me tramadol to take home with the eye drops. . Somehow. Gilbert and Laura and I made it through that first night.
At the follow up with sophisticated veterinarian ophthalmologist Dr. Ford I learned that Gilbert, who liked Dr. Ford,  was indeed blind in his left eye.  He was also at risk for the same in his right. Her examination confirmed that the drainage from both eyes was decreased.  “I know it's still awful, “ she said, “but blindness in a dog is not as bad as it is for humans. A dog's sense of smell is like sight to a human.  A lot of older dogs are blind and no one knows it because they experience the world and navigate mostly by smell. I’ve a blind dog myself and no one really knows it."
If the medication didn’t bring the pressure down then the usual option she explained was to have the eye surgically removed .There was a procedure for injecting the eye but it was used mostly in older dogs and not as certain as the surgery.
I continued Dr. Ford’s recommendations of the Dorzotimol 2% and Travopro .004% eye drops,  to be given 15 minutes a part ,three times a day for the next three months.   The problem was Gilbert did not at all like these drops and even growled at me after a few days of tolerating the treatment. I think they must sting or it was just too much of a nuisance for him.
I was so thankful that Martin, Tiny’s dad, gave me some ‘wild salmon treats’ he’d used on Tiny. “Tiny will let me do anything to her if I give her one of these treats.” Martin said.  Well, armed with the gift pack of ‘smoked wild salmon treats’ Gilbett’s whole attitude towards his medication times changed.  It became play and a reward for him. Grizzly Super Treats, USA made are what  continues to work for us today.
Gilbert and I moved to the care of the Western Canada Veterinarian Eye Specialists. Lori the assistant has been with them for years and made Gilbert so at home. I loved her professionalism.   Dr. Christina King examined Gilbert with touching sensitivity and agreed with Dr. Ford.  His pressure had remained in the 40’s despite treatment and he really seemed less happy overall despite the eye drops and the daily Metacam, an NSAID , like ibuprofen, for dogs.  We discussed surgery and I agreed, arranging a date.
Laura and I took Gilbert to Big Bar Lake as his pre surgery treat. He loves the wilderness. He was able to be off leash on that trip as well.  We knew he was blind now as he’d miss the yellow ball when we threw it on his left side. Gilbert never misses a yellow ball.  He loved sleeping in the tent too. Tenting is his favouite.  Laura, a real trooper, says, “Tenting is not my first choice of sleeping accommodation but I’m glad to do it because you and Gilbert love camping so much.”  Gilbert was in dog heaven camping. I just had to make sure Laura has a comfortable camp chair and a cup of coffee waiting for her when she stumbled out of the tent in the morning.  It was a great weekend.
On Tuesday at 8 am I took Gilbert to the Western Canada Veterinary Eye Specialists.  I left him with confidence with Lori.  She loves animals.  They love her.  Gilbert was happy and trusting.
I don’t know how I compartmentalize. I’m under incredible stress with conflicting demands of government and patients and no resources, daily threats and emergencies, and always afraid I’ll miss something but thankful for the  great staff and colleagues I have toda.  Despite that I couldn’t help but worry between patients standing distracted at times.  Mary Lou and Judith, the office staff,  knowing what was happening, made extra certain everything was covered for me. I was so thankful.
I got the call that Gilbert was out of surgery and had done well.   I was surprised by the depth of my relief, tears welling in my eyes as I said a silent prayer of gratitude . He’d be over his anaesthesia and ready for pick up in an hour.  I managed to see more patients . I was thankful when it slowed that Dr. Horvath,  ever considerate,   said he’d cover anyone else who came,  so that I could go to Gilbert.
The little guy was stumbling like he was half asleep when I saw him.  He wore the Cone of Shame that would stop him scratching. I was overjoyed to see him.  My little trooper.  That first night was tough. He was moaning in pain and I was so thankful for Tramadol because twice I had to give it to him and twice he settled.
Seeing what a wonder drug opiates are I couldn’t help but question the recent Justin Trudeau government’s attack on opiate prescribing and legitimate patients in face of the illegal fentanyl epidemic of deaths caused by the importation of Chinese fentanyl and heroin trafficking. Just like with the Liberal attack on the law abiding gun owners because of criminals killing people with illegal guns here was another example of how good citizens were punished by the incompetent Liberal authorities all the while they promoted cost saving euthanasia. Well I was thankful in the wee hours of the night holding my little dog post surgery that I had tramadol for him. Holding him comforted him till the tramadol took effect bu the metacam just hadn’t done the trick.  Aging I’m terrified of this young pot smoking super rich PM.  Pierre Trudeau exploded abortion into Canada with ultimately millions of babies killed mostly because Canadian families can’t afford to have children with the high cost of living.  Now the Liberals were giving us euthanasia  pot smoking and denying us opiates and real pain relief.  I feared myself opting for death rather than living under this  evil regimen. I can’t say how many times I’ve thanked Gilbert for keeping me alive.  Like parents who tell me they wouldn’t suicide because of their children I just know that Gilbert gives me that extra reason for living that gets me through the hardest of days.
After that first night Gilbert was fine.  He didn’t like the Cephalex antibiotic.  Nortoriously acidic, he event spit it out when I sneaked it between slices of roast beef.  His eye healed remarkably fast and with no swelling or redness I stopped forcing the cephalexin on him after three days. He didn’t need any more tramadol after the first couple of nights. By day 3 he was only on the Metacam.  Mostly he hated the cone.  He loves to lick his paws. He also loves to sniff other dogs genitals. Well he couldn’t lick his paws with the cone and other dogs didn’t like being coned by Gilbert trying to sniff their genitals. It was a rough time for the little guy. He’d also bang into  everything, blind on the left side and catching the cone on every step.
What a truly intelligent little guy. By the weekend he was scooping his yellow ball in his two paws and tossing it in the air to catch it in his mouth.    We stayed at Laura’s several nights  and she patiently rubbed his tummy and his back for hours. He’s such a suck.  She gave him all his favourite treats and with less clutter at dog level at her place he banged the cone less often.
Dr. Christina King had said what Dr. Douglas and Dr. Ford had, that the condition was progressive and that he might well lose his sight in his other eye.  She gave me Cosopt, a dosalomide and timolol combination ophthalmic solution for his good eye, a drop twice a day. Thank’s to Martin’s wild salmon treats Gilbert doesn’t mind the twice a day imposition.
Ten days after the surgery, on Thursday I took Gilbert back to the Western Canada Veterinary Eye Specialists for his suture removal.  Lori was as delightful as ever. Gilbert was surprisingly glad to follow her to the back despite that being where they’d taken out his poor little eye.  Moments later he was back again with me, without the cone and his wound looking healed and splendid.
Dr. Christina King could have put a prosthesis in the eye . Having trained in surgery I expressed concern about the complication of any foreign body.  She reassured me that they did really well but yes there was a slight risk.  As well, she said,  “ I mostly don’t recommend them for dogs like Gilbert whose hair normally covers his eyes. In less hairy dogs, the prosthesis really does look better but once Gilbert’s hair grows out I don’t think anyone know.”
As a sailor I’m now on the look out for a little black pirate patch for my side kick Gilbert
He’s happier now.  His old playful exuberant self is back.  Both Laura and I have noticed that his personality has changed with the surgery. “He’s his old happy go lucky self” Laura says.. We suspect that despite the drops he probably had  chronic pain and was out of sorts.  But now he’s really happy.  He’s such a joyful little character.
“Gilbert’s now the one eye pirate companion of Sailor Bill”, a friend quipped.  Dad called him Monkey Dog.  Another friend says I should get Monty Python’s dead parrot for Gilbert to wear on his back.
In my low period, thinking of Gilbert going blind and feeling helpless, vulnerable  and unloved by God, Laura sent me a picture of a blind old dog with a younger dog tied with a rope beside him.  The caption to the pictures was ‘dogs have seeing eye dogs too’.  If getting him a seeing eye dog is the worst the future holds, life is good.
We are so thankful to Dr. Christina King and Lori for their continued care of Gilbert.