m.e.
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And Peanut is resting comfortably. She gave me a good scare, though...
She aspirated a mouthful of pellets tonight. I don't know how, exactly. I was giving her dinner the usual way: she laid on the floor on her right side, bracing herself against my leg, and ate pellets out of the palm of my hand. It takes awhile to finish them all, but since she's so determined to eat on her own I do my best to help however I can.
But she must have tilted her head just the right way, or maybe started to roll over, because she breathed in and began to choke and spit out the pellets that were in her mouth. Then she really started coughing (an awful sound) and spewed mucous and pellet mush out her nose. Yes, OUT her nose. Words cannot describe how I felt at that moment, such an awful sensation in the pit of my stomach.
I grabbed the nearest blanket and began to wipe the mucous away from her nose. I tried to hold her at an angle, but that only freaked her out more, and so I cradled her while calling for my mom. I told her to grab the bulb syringe and the phone; I cleared out Peanut's nose with the syringe and called the emergency vets to let them know we were coming in. It was 10:20 pm.
On the way to the vet, Peanut had two more "attacks" - difficulty breathing coupled with tons of clear, watery mucous coming out of her nose. I syringed and wiped and begged her to keep breathing. At one point she opened her mouth wide and I thought for sure I was going to lose her. I lost a very young foster kitten to aspiration-pneumonia, and I've never been able to forget it. Peanut's breathing was fast and rattley. I frequently checked the color of her gums, and I prayed that God would keep her safe. I couldn't lose her, not like this.
Made it to the clinic and handed her over to the nurse, telling her that Peanut needed to be held firmly and carefully because of her tilt. The adrenaline was wearing off now, and my hands shook as I filled out the paperwork. We were led into an exam room, and a few minutes later Peanut was returned, wrapped in a towel and breathing much more peacefully. The nurse took a history and told us the vet would be right in.
Dr. Anderson ("Or Kelly", she said) was extremely nice, and immediately dispelled all my fears about dealing with a non-rabbit savvy vet. She said the rattling sounds were mostly upper respiratory, and that aspirated materials in the lungs don't immediately show up on an X-ray. That's likely something we'll want to do after 12-24 hours, and at that point determine what kind of treatment Peanut may or may not need. She asked all the right questions about the medication Peanut is currently on, her condition, etc. Dr. Anderson wanted to give Peanut some Metacam to combat any inflammation, but I shared my concern that the (oral) Metacam was what made her stop eating the first time around. So we opted for the injection instead. Peanut has also dropped down to 4 pounds, 1.5 ounces, so Dr. A sent us home with some Critical Care.
Total cost for the visit: $14.26, the cost of the Metacam. I was nearly moved to tears. I thanked her profusely and we headed home. It was just past 12 am. Once we settled in, I gave Peanut the rest of her meds, ear drops, and eye wash (plus some parsley, as a special treat). We'll start the Critical Care in the morning. Right now she's sleeping, which is what I should be doing.
G'night all!
She aspirated a mouthful of pellets tonight. I don't know how, exactly. I was giving her dinner the usual way: she laid on the floor on her right side, bracing herself against my leg, and ate pellets out of the palm of my hand. It takes awhile to finish them all, but since she's so determined to eat on her own I do my best to help however I can.
But she must have tilted her head just the right way, or maybe started to roll over, because she breathed in and began to choke and spit out the pellets that were in her mouth. Then she really started coughing (an awful sound) and spewed mucous and pellet mush out her nose. Yes, OUT her nose. Words cannot describe how I felt at that moment, such an awful sensation in the pit of my stomach.
I grabbed the nearest blanket and began to wipe the mucous away from her nose. I tried to hold her at an angle, but that only freaked her out more, and so I cradled her while calling for my mom. I told her to grab the bulb syringe and the phone; I cleared out Peanut's nose with the syringe and called the emergency vets to let them know we were coming in. It was 10:20 pm.
On the way to the vet, Peanut had two more "attacks" - difficulty breathing coupled with tons of clear, watery mucous coming out of her nose. I syringed and wiped and begged her to keep breathing. At one point she opened her mouth wide and I thought for sure I was going to lose her. I lost a very young foster kitten to aspiration-pneumonia, and I've never been able to forget it. Peanut's breathing was fast and rattley. I frequently checked the color of her gums, and I prayed that God would keep her safe. I couldn't lose her, not like this.
Made it to the clinic and handed her over to the nurse, telling her that Peanut needed to be held firmly and carefully because of her tilt. The adrenaline was wearing off now, and my hands shook as I filled out the paperwork. We were led into an exam room, and a few minutes later Peanut was returned, wrapped in a towel and breathing much more peacefully. The nurse took a history and told us the vet would be right in.
Dr. Anderson ("Or Kelly", she said) was extremely nice, and immediately dispelled all my fears about dealing with a non-rabbit savvy vet. She said the rattling sounds were mostly upper respiratory, and that aspirated materials in the lungs don't immediately show up on an X-ray. That's likely something we'll want to do after 12-24 hours, and at that point determine what kind of treatment Peanut may or may not need. She asked all the right questions about the medication Peanut is currently on, her condition, etc. Dr. Anderson wanted to give Peanut some Metacam to combat any inflammation, but I shared my concern that the (oral) Metacam was what made her stop eating the first time around. So we opted for the injection instead. Peanut has also dropped down to 4 pounds, 1.5 ounces, so Dr. A sent us home with some Critical Care.
Total cost for the visit: $14.26, the cost of the Metacam. I was nearly moved to tears. I thanked her profusely and we headed home. It was just past 12 am. Once we settled in, I gave Peanut the rest of her meds, ear drops, and eye wash (plus some parsley, as a special treat). We'll start the Critical Care in the morning. Right now she's sleeping, which is what I should be doing.
G'night all!
And now Peanut is I'm sure more than thankfulas well!
