How watching my aunts’ dogs probably saved my life

Cali (left) and Sweetie
The short version is: I went to stay at my aunt’s house in order to watch her dog and my other aunt’s dog while they were out of town at a wedding. While there I had a medical emergency and was convinced to go to the hospital, which I probably would not have done had I still been at home.

Sweetie (top) and Cali
Long version:
The players are: my aunt Teresa, who has Alzheimer’s, and her dog Sweetie, whom she loves to death and has never been separated from
Jahle, Teresa’s caretaker, who drives her to errands and appointments and otherwise keeps her company during the day
My aunt Mary and her partner Dax, who live in Teresa’s house and help take care of her at night
My aunt Carol, who lives nearby, and her dog Cali (coincidentally, Sweetie’s sister, although from different litters)
My mom
Me

Carol’s daughter was getting married in New York, Mary was performing the ceremony, and Teresa and Mom were attending. Teresa cannot be left on her own nor travel alone so it was agreed that she and Mom would fly together, but Mom was adamant that she could not be responsible for Teresa AND a dog. Carol lined up a woman to watch Sweetie and Cali while they were gone and everyone had been getting Teresa used to the idea of leaving Sweetie behind, when the woman stopped returning Carol’s phone calls. So I agreed to stay at Teresa’s house for the weekend and dog-sit as long as I was home by Sunday night (I couldn’t miss work on Monday).

Carol had to leave early to do mother-of-the-bride things, and Mary and Dax left the day after that, to help with other wedding things. My mom had a doctor’s appointment she could not reschedule, which meant Teresa would be alone for three nights unless I could go down early, which I was happy to do. Mom would arrive two days later, and Dad would come the day after she and Teresa left for New York; he had a work reunion thing he didn’t want to miss, but I didn’t mind having to take them to the airport as long as he could pick them up (I’d be gone by then).

I had been feeling kind of crappy the previous couple of days, but figured it was maybe the reoccurrence of an ulcer, so I left a voice mail with my gastroenterologist’s office requesting a refill of the meds that had cured it the last time. But by the time I arrived at Teresa’s I was feeling really REALLY bad. Still, I was there to do a job and I wasn’t going to ruin everyone’s plans so I just gritted my teeth and didn’t say anything. Then the dry heaves started. They had also been a symptom of the ulcer so I just hoped my doc would get back to me quickly.

But Teresa texted my mom. Who texted me. I wouldn't admit how bad I felt because I knew she would freak out. But Teresa also texted Jahle, who had left for the day, to come back, and when she arrived, the two of them basically forced me into Jahle’s car and off we went to the emergency room.

Turns out I had a twisted bowel, which is sometimes a complication after losing a lot of weight (apparently your belly fat is there to keep your organs from moving around, and if you lose weight, it can be like shipping something in a box with no peanuts to keep it from rattling around). My small intestine had gotten twisted and I was told later that this could have been life-threatening if not fixed quickly, since I could have gotten sepsis, or even lost a portion of my bowel.

The surgery (laparoscopic reduction of small bowel volvulus) was a success, though. If anyone gets sick in Broward County, go to Memorial Hospital. I actually recovered quickly enough not to mess with the wedding plans, except instead of me driving Mom and Teresa to the airport, my dad did, then drove back home for his work thing. Then he came back after it was over like originally planned.

Teresa kept forgetting that I’d been in the hospital, but that was ok; I kept reminding her that she’d saved my life by snitching to my mom (I live alone, so if I hadn’t been at her house there would’ve been nobody to notice how bad I looked and nobody for me to complain to about how bad I was feeling, nor would I have been able to drive myself anywhere).

Anyway, I took pictures of Sweetie and sent them to her while she was in New York so she would know everything was going well at home.

Sweetie did mope around the first couple of days (just look how miserable she looks in the first two pics!), but was back to her old self by the end of the weekend.

Cali was fine the whole time. She even slept with me starting the second night.

And by the last night, they both were sleeping with me.
I've always been a cat person, but these little dogs (they are Havanese, BTW) were charming.
PSA: If you are feeling bad, GO TO THE ER. THAT’S WHAT IT’S FOR. Even in Trump’s America where one can bankrupt oneself paying for medication, your life is important. You matter. Get help for what’s ailing you.
I hope everyone reading this has a lovely day and a safe and healthy tomorrow (-: