I woke up at 1:55 am on Monday morning, certain that the day was going to hold bad news. His condition didn’t change over the weekend, by which I mean that it didn’t get worse, but it certainly didn’t get better. When I went to bed Sunday night, his head was still tilted to the side. He would eat if we put the food to his mouth and drink if I gave him water in a syringe. But he could barely walk. He hadn’t made a sound in almost a week. He couldn’t bite into his alfalfa cookies.
I spent the morning before we left for the vet with my stomach in knots.
I’m glad we waited. I am clearly saying that in retrospect because we got to see our normal vet instead of a stranger, and I’m sure I would be saying otherwise if he hadn’t made it through the weekend. But our vet has a basis of comparison for his normal self vs. his last week self vs. his current self. Plus she is so compassionate and patient: With me and with him.
She thinks the infection has spread to his brain or inner ear. She switched the antibiotic to one that gets into the central nervous system — though not one the other vet was suggesting — and put him on a food supplement to keep him from losing more weight. She wants me to keep giving him water from a syringe. And she warned that if he starts rolling over, he is having seizures and needs to be euthanized quickly.
She also said that she has never seen a guinea pig this sick rally so hard. That guinea pigs are usually poor patients that give up fairly easily in the face of infection. But she said that it was a good sign that he was fighting this hard to get through this. I am going to cling to that thought because my brain cannot go to the otherwise without melting down. He has to get better.
My poor sweet boy is resting a lot. I’ll post another update this week when things get better. Thank you for abiding with me though this.