MaltRam

Update: Vet called. He's made it through the night. Hoping to take his tracheotomy tube out later today.
Much like supporting our DCFC, it's the hope that hurts!
 

Since my wife died, it's been a bit of a scrap to keep plodding on, but I've been making progress. Back at work, back talking objectionable poo on here, trying to get out and about...
Aside from our kids, the biggest thing that's dragged me out of bed to do anything in a morning has been our dog. He's a lovely lad and I've been completely converted from cat person to dog person. My late wife always wanted a pup as a girl but her old man wouldn't have it, so when we found out she was terminally ill we got him to tick it off her bucket list. Not only is he a link to my late wife, but his complete devotion to us and bouncy enthusiasm helps bond us together.
He's only 18 months old, but he's sick. I've been up with him since first light and just had to drop him at the vet for various tests. He's been sick till there's nothing but bile, not drinking, not moving, struggling to breathe and I'm scared of what they're going to find. 
Watching him helpless, hoping for every next breath, the echoes of nursing my missus in her last weeks are ripping all the old wounds open. If he goes, I'm never again having another living thing in my life I care a poo about. The pain of caring and losing isn't worth the joy.
ducking savage low this morning. 

not gonna lie, been kinda sweating on this update. Sounds like it's going the right way now. Still rooting for ya.

He's overnight at the vets. Just spoken to them and he's breathing through his tracheotomy OK, and he's even stood up a bit. They've given him a huge dose of steroids (her words) to hopefully bring the swelling in his throat down. Next 24 hours will tell. Off to bed, clinging to hope.
Thanks to all of you guys. Been a horrible day, and you've helped make it that bit easier.

He's overnight at the vets. Just spoken to them and he's breathing through his tracheotomy OK, and he's even stood up a bit. They've given him a huge dose of steroids (her words) to hopefully bring the swelling in his throat down. Next 24 hours will tell. Off to bed, clinging to hope.
Thanks to all of you guys. Been a horrible day, and you've helped make it that bit easier.

He's overnight at the vets. Just spoken to them and he's breathing through his tracheotomy OK, and he's even stood up a bit. They've given him a huge dose of steroids (her words) to hopefully bring the swelling in his throat down. Next 24 hours will tell. Off to bed, clinging to hope.
Thanks to all of you guys. Been a horrible day, and you've helped make it that bit easier.

Since my wife died, it's been a bit of a scrap to keep plodding on, but I've been making progress. Back at work, back talking objectionable poo on here, trying to get out and about...
Aside from our kids, the biggest thing that's dragged me out of bed to do anything in a morning has been our dog. He's a lovely lad and I've been completely converted from cat person to dog person. My late wife always wanted a pup as a girl but her old man wouldn't have it, so when we found out she was terminally ill we got him to tick it off her bucket list. Not only is he a link to my late wife, but his complete devotion to us and bouncy enthusiasm helps bond us together.
He's only 18 months old, but he's sick. I've been up with him since first light and just had to drop him at the vet for various tests. He's been sick till there's nothing but bile, not drinking, not moving, struggling to breathe and I'm scared of what they're going to find. 
Watching him helpless, hoping for every next breath, the echoes of nursing my missus in her last weeks are ripping all the old wounds open. If he goes, I'm never again having another living thing in my life I care a poo about. The pain of caring and losing isn't worth the joy.
ducking savage low this morning. 

He's overnight at the vets. Just spoken to them and he's breathing through his tracheotomy OK, and he's even stood up a bit. They've given him a huge dose of steroids (her words) to hopefully bring the swelling in his throat down. Next 24 hours will tell. Off to bed, clinging to hope.
Thanks to all of you guys. Been a horrible day, and you've helped make it that bit easier.

Needlesh to say, but we are all routing for you Buddy.

one of the "reasons" men struggle so much with mental health, we put ourselves under pressure to keep a lid on everything.

Since my wife died, it's been a bit of a scrap to keep plodding on, but I've been making progress. Back at work, back talking objectionable poo on here, trying to get out and about...
Aside from our kids, the biggest thing that's dragged me out of bed to do anything in a morning has been our dog. He's a lovely lad and I've been completely converted from cat person to dog person. My late wife always wanted a pup as a girl but her old man wouldn't have it, so when we found out she was terminally ill we got him to tick it off her bucket list. Not only is he a link to my late wife, but his complete devotion to us and bouncy enthusiasm helps bond us together.
He's only 18 months old, but he's sick. I've been up with him since first light and just had to drop him at the vet for various tests. He's been sick till there's nothing but bile, not drinking, not moving, struggling to breathe and I'm scared of what they're going to find. 
Watching him helpless, hoping for every next breath, the echoes of nursing my missus in her last weeks are ripping all the old wounds open. If he goes, I'm never again having another living thing in my life I care a poo about. The pain of caring and losing isn't worth the joy.
ducking savage low this morning. 

Young dog, he'll be ok.
Just wait until you bring it home, under strict instructions about what it can and can't do, and drive yourself mad trying to contain it! 
All the best, thoughts are with you.

Been there, done that. New puppy is looking very unwell on her first day, walking in a semi daze. Late on we let her out to go to the toilet, but her back legs seem to buckle under her. 
Vet trip, £1300 later she's had fluids dripped in, and she's home. I think the person who sold her sold her at about 4 weeks and told us she was 8. I think she was still on milk from the mother, and had never been on solids. 
Good luck, don't worry about the money. You would only have spent it on something else. 

Since my wife died, it's been a bit of a scrap to keep plodding on, but I've been making progress. Back at work, back talking objectionable poo on here, trying to get out and about...
Aside from our kids, the biggest thing that's dragged me out of bed to do anything in a morning has been our dog. He's a lovely lad and I've been completely converted from cat person to dog person. My late wife always wanted a pup as a girl but her old man wouldn't have it, so when we found out she was terminally ill we got him to tick it off her bucket list. Not only is he a link to my late wife, but his complete devotion to us and bouncy enthusiasm helps bond us together.
He's only 18 months old, but he's sick. I've been up with him since first light and just had to drop him at the vet for various tests. He's been sick till there's nothing but bile, not drinking, not moving, struggling to breathe and I'm scared of what they're going to find. 
Watching him helpless, hoping for every next breath, the echoes of nursing my missus in her last weeks are ripping all the old wounds open. If he goes, I'm never again having another living thing in my life I care a poo about. The pain of caring and losing isn't worth the joy.
ducking savage low this morning. 

Since my wife died, it's been a bit of a scrap to keep plodding on, but I've been making progress. Back at work, back talking objectionable poo on here, trying to get out and about...
Aside from our kids, the biggest thing that's dragged me out of bed to do anything in a morning has been our dog. He's a lovely lad and I've been completely converted from cat person to dog person. My late wife always wanted a pup as a girl but her old man wouldn't have it, so when we found out she was terminally ill we got him to tick it off her bucket list. Not only is he a link to my late wife, but his complete devotion to us and bouncy enthusiasm helps bond us together.
He's only 18 months old, but he's sick. I've been up with him since first light and just had to drop him at the vet for various tests. He's been sick till there's nothing but bile, not drinking, not moving, struggling to breathe and I'm scared of what they're going to find. 
Watching him helpless, hoping for every next breath, the echoes of nursing my missus in her last weeks are ripping all the old wounds open. If he goes, I'm never again having another living thing in my life I care a poo about. The pain of caring and losing isn't worth the joy.
ducking savage low this morning. 

Since my wife died, it's been a bit of a scrap to keep plodding on, but I've been making progress. Back at work, back talking objectionable poo on here, trying to get out and about...
Aside from our kids, the biggest thing that's dragged me out of bed to do anything in a morning has been our dog. He's a lovely lad and I've been completely converted from cat person to dog person. My late wife always wanted a pup as a girl but her old man wouldn't have it, so when we found out she was terminally ill we got him to tick it off her bucket list. Not only is he a link to my late wife, but his complete devotion to us and bouncy enthusiasm helps bond us together.
He's only 18 months old, but he's sick. I've been up with him since first light and just had to drop him at the vet for various tests. He's been sick till there's nothing but bile, not drinking, not moving, struggling to breathe and I'm scared of what they're going to find. 
Watching him helpless, hoping for every next breath, the echoes of nursing my missus in her last weeks are ripping all the old wounds open. If he goes, I'm never again having another living thing in my life I care a poo about. The pain of caring and losing isn't worth the joy.
ducking savage low this morning. 

Since my wife died, it's been a bit of a scrap to keep plodding on, but I've been making progress. Back at work, back talking objectionable poo on here, trying to get out and about...
Aside from our kids, the biggest thing that's dragged me out of bed to do anything in a morning has been our dog. He's a lovely lad and I've been completely converted from cat person to dog person. My late wife always wanted a pup as a girl but her old man wouldn't have it, so when we found out she was terminally ill we got him to tick it off her bucket list. Not only is he a link to my late wife, but his complete devotion to us and bouncy enthusiasm helps bond us together.
He's only 18 months old, but he's sick. I've been up with him since first light and just had to drop him at the vet for various tests. He's been sick till there's nothing but bile, not drinking, not moving, struggling to breathe and I'm scared of what they're going to find. 
Watching him helpless, hoping for every next breath, the echoes of nursing my missus in her last weeks are ripping all the old wounds open. If he goes, I'm never again having another living thing in my life I care a poo about. The pain of caring and losing isn't worth the joy.
ducking savage low this morning. 

On the positive side, vets can be miracle workers these days. It'll cost you, mind, but that's not really the point. 
Fingers crossed for you. 

What a horrible anxious time for you especially as you already in a low place. I really hope he pulls through. Let us know.

Since my wife died, it's been a bit of a scrap to keep plodding on, but I've been making progress. Back at work, back talking objectionable poo on here, trying to get out and about...
Aside from our kids, the biggest thing that's dragged me out of bed to do anything in a morning has been our dog. He's a lovely lad and I've been completely converted from cat person to dog person. My late wife always wanted a pup as a girl but her old man wouldn't have it, so when we found out she was terminally ill we got him to tick it off her bucket list. Not only is he a link to my late wife, but his complete devotion to us and bouncy enthusiasm helps bond us together.
He's only 18 months old, but he's sick. I've been up with him since first light and just had to drop him at the vet for various tests. He's been sick till there's nothing but bile, not drinking, not moving, struggling to breathe and I'm scared of what they're going to find. 
Watching him helpless, hoping for every next breath, the echoes of nursing my missus in her last weeks are ripping all the old wounds open. If he goes, I'm never again having another living thing in my life I care a poo about. The pain of caring and losing isn't worth the joy.
ducking savage low this morning. 

Since my wife died, it's been a bit of a scrap to keep plodding on, but I've been making progress. Back at work, back talking objectionable poo on here, trying to get out and about...
Aside from our kids, the biggest thing that's dragged me out of bed to do anything in a morning has been our dog. He's a lovely lad and I've been completely converted from cat person to dog person. My late wife always wanted a pup as a girl but her old man wouldn't have it, so when we found out she was terminally ill we got him to tick it off her bucket list. Not only is he a link to my late wife, but his complete devotion to us and bouncy enthusiasm helps bond us together.
He's only 18 months old, but he's sick. I've been up with him since first light and just had to drop him at the vet for various tests. He's been sick till there's nothing but bile, not drinking, not moving, struggling to breathe and I'm scared of what they're going to find. 
Watching him helpless, hoping for every next breath, the echoes of nursing my missus in her last weeks are ripping all the old wounds open. If he goes, I'm never again having another living thing in my life I care a poo about. The pain of caring and losing isn't worth the joy.
ducking savage low this morning. 

Just had a rather dramatic call back. They opened him up and found no foreign body in his stomach or intestines, but his throat is blocked by a swelling/growth and he was full of gas. They've released that, but just as the vet was on the phone she got a shout from the nurse and had to hang up to go and check on him again. Half hour later, she calls back. The swelling has got worse and he can't breath. They put a tube down his throat and I had to make a decision on a second operation. Of course I've OK'd it, so they're giving him a tracheotomy so he can breath while (they hope) the swelling goes down.
They hope the swelling is due to his being sick so much, but it could be anything. They'll keep him overnight, but he's had so much trauma now that the odds are diminishing. Zero without this second op though.
Cruel ducking world. Poor little lad. 

Since my wife died, it's been a bit of a scrap to keep plodding on, but I've been making progress. Back at work, back talking objectionable poo on here, trying to get out and about...
Aside from our kids, the biggest thing that's dragged me out of bed to do anything in a morning has been our dog. He's a lovely lad and I've been completely converted from cat person to dog person. My late wife always wanted a pup as a girl but her old man wouldn't have it, so when we found out she was terminally ill we got him to tick it off her bucket list. Not only is he a link to my late wife, but his complete devotion to us and bouncy enthusiasm helps bond us together.
He's only 18 months old, but he's sick. I've been up with him since first light and just had to drop him at the vet for various tests. He's been sick till there's nothing but bile, not drinking, not moving, struggling to breathe and I'm scared of what they're going to find. 
Watching him helpless, hoping for every next breath, the echoes of nursing my missus in her last weeks are ripping all the old wounds open. If he goes, I'm never again having another living thing in my life I care a poo about. The pain of caring and losing isn't worth the joy.
ducking savage low this morning. 

Since my wife died, it's been a bit of a scrap to keep plodding on, but I've been making progress. Back at work, back talking objectionable poo on here, trying to get out and about...
Aside from our kids, the biggest thing that's dragged me out of bed to do anything in a morning has been our dog. He's a lovely lad and I've been completely converted from cat person to dog person. My late wife always wanted a pup as a girl but her old man wouldn't have it, so when we found out she was terminally ill we got him to tick it off her bucket list. Not only is he a link to my late wife, but his complete devotion to us and bouncy enthusiasm helps bond us together.
He's only 18 months old, but he's sick. I've been up with him since first light and just had to drop him at the vet for various tests. He's been sick till there's nothing but bile, not drinking, not moving, struggling to breathe and I'm scared of what they're going to find. 
Watching him helpless, hoping for every next breath, the echoes of nursing my missus in her last weeks are ripping all the old wounds open. If he goes, I'm never again having another living thing in my life I care a poo about. The pain of caring and losing isn't worth the joy.
ducking savage low this morning. 

Fair. I've spent so long trying to hold everything together for those around me, that I don't really know what else to do.