Just a few weeks ago, we made an evening rush hour dash to the ER.
The next week, Joe's mom had a fall, broke her hip and had a new one put in. Now she's in another hospital (for 3 more days) for rehab.
I spent Thursday afternoon hooked to monitors and getting every sort of test you can think of... (no baby yet, and both baby and I are fine, but we were told not to expect to make it to our due date - we'll find more out Monday when I go back and go through it all again).
But yesterday afternoon was the WORST.
Our precious baby took a swan dive off a retaining wall in the front yard. She landed about three feet below on the sidewalk and as I was telling her how silly she was to fall, she tried to stand and SCREAMED in pain, holding her right paw dangling in the air.
"SHE BROKE HER LEG!"
I scooped her up, we rushed inside, called the vet - he was out of the office getting continuing education credits. They referred us to another vet who supposedly has office hours until 7:00 PM. There was no answer there. By this time, we're a couple blocks from the house, cursing traffic, and called a third vet who was open until 6:00 (by now, it's 10 minutes 'til 6:00 and I was in tears begging them to not lock the doors before we got there).
The good news:
No broken leg. She was given a cortisone shot and told not to run or jump for a day or two (like that's going to happen).
And the vet said she's the most beautiful puppy in the world.
But we already knew that.