Where to begin? Quincy was about 35 days pregnant when she didn't eat for a day. Normally, I don't sweat it. When you are pregnant, sometimes you just don't have a big appetite. And, for Quincy, this was normal. Each pregnancy she would have an "off" day, but then be back to her old self. So on Wednesday, she didn't really eat much food. That night, at grandma's house, she ate a few of the kid's leftover scraps from dinner. Thursday morning, Grandma called. She was sick. I rushed her up to the clinic, and we quickly confirmed my worst fear, she was having a GDV, or Gastric Dilation/Volvulus. Fancy talk for a gas filled stomach that has flipped over and twisted. She was in distress big time. We passed a stomach tube, lanced her side to let a little gas out and prepped her for surgery. The surgery went very well. We felt like if she woke up fine, kept her electrolytes and heart rate under control, we just might do ok. But as with any major gastric surgery, I knew not to get hopeful until the magic window of about 2 days had passed when the stomach would be starting to get going again. Sometimes it is just too much trauma to the stomach and it dies. Last night I brought her home from the clinic, with a fist full of dangling IV lines, and wearing a belly wrap that concealed a large rubber catheter that fed directly through her side into her stomach. Our clinic doesn't have 24 hour staff, so I was to be her nurse for the weekend. She settled nicely down in her bed, but was depressed. Late last night she was more depressed and not doing well. Early this morning, she died. I think it was just too much trauma for her. She fought hard, her heart never faltering until its last beat. I think of her deep amber eyes seeking my face as she laid on her side, trying to be brave for me. A servant to the end. She seemed more worried about me, even as she faded away. We will miss you, Quincy. Alot.
