This is Nigel.
This is also Nigel, on the top.
This is Nigel now, in his pen in my room, wearing a belly band that comes off when he scoots along like a seal.
Nigel has a cart. He has his own 4X4 foot pen in my room. He is routinely taken outside and sometimes he is able to let us know that he really NEEDS to go out and we try hard to accomodate him but sometimes it just isn't possible and then we have cleaning up to do.
Today he has pooped 4 times. The last two times were in his pen while I was making lunch. John had just taken him out. The poop extended from one end of the pen to the other, hitting every pad I had in there and Nigel was squished in one clean corner looking mortified.
And I began to wonder.
Was this the right decision? Keeping him alive? Keeping him in a situation where his every whim is either met or he is at our mercy. What happens on the days when I don't feel well? There are parts to Nigel's care that John cannot do. He cannot catheterize him, which I do twice a day or once, depending on how many times Nigel has been out to pee and how much and whether he actually peed or not.
And that's another thing, our obsession keeping him running with fair regularity.
So he eats special food, designed to produce firm stools.
And he gets UTI infections.
And he cannot climb up and look out the windows, or even lay on the couch without assistance.
Is this what we wanted for him?
No, but. BUT.
On the other hand, when he originally went down in the rear his tail quit being waggable and he has gotten that back.
When this happened, he could not support himself at all for any length of time, not even a second. And now if we position his feet he can stand (kind of) for 10 or 15 seconds before he begins to sink.
So of course on the bad days I remind myself that Nigel certainly didn't ask for this, and that some improvement might mean more improvement will come in time.
That's what I tell myself, anyway.
