|The day we found her in Bandon|
During these episodes, we have to immediately spike her medication, give her ice cream to raise her temperature, move her off the bed so she doesn't hurt herself, then act as human straight jackets while she paddles violently. We used to give her valium rectally to interrupt these side effects, but it's been making her more hyper lately so we've discontinued it. This means that we have no way of calming her down; we just have to wait it out. Once her post-seizure behaviors subside a bit, I just lie down with her on the living room floor until we both fall asleep. Sometimes this process takes and hour, and other times it takes four hours.
|Ramona at 10 weeks with Bun Bun|
My husband and I don't sleep much these days. Thankfully, we have very different work schedules so one of us can be home with her most of the time, and we alternate who attends to her in the middle of the night. We also have a very caring roommate who loves our pooch and keeps a close eye on her when we're not at home. As you can imagine, these circumstances make us feel pretty isolated. We value our freedom, but Ramona's condition makes it impossible to travel, hang out with friends, stay out late - and we have to go to bed early because we know we'll be awakened in the middle of the night.
|Ramona at 12 weeks|
I also wrote this post because I'm hoping to find other pet owners who have had similar experiences. I've met a lot of people who grew up with epileptic pets, and it's always comforting to hear that their four-legged friends lived full lives. Ramona's situation is different. Her disorder isn't responding to the drugs or lifestyle changes that help other dogs. If you've experienced something similar with a pet, I'd love to hear your story.
I'm ready for my dog to be healthy again, and I'm eager to put more creative energy into my other baby, that big old bus on Williams Avenue. Thanks to everyone who has supported me during this challenging time, and please keep Ramona in your thoughts and prayers.