The last few weeks been a little too exciting for my taste.
This is C.S. Lewis.
He is the last bunny we have.
We had thirteen rabbits. The three original, and then Sans gave birth to a litter of ten. Some were rehomed, others we lost to a fox that broke into an unsecured hutch overnight. C.S. was the one that Mikasa picked up and carried around in her mouth for a little bit back when he was still just a nugget, so he was overly attached to us. We decided this one could go ahead and live out his life with us instead of elsewhere.
More on him later.
Last Thursday, Michael had an endoscopy scheduled. It was a routine procedure so insurance would continue to cover his GERD medication. I took off because he needed to driven to and from, as he would have to be under anesthesia.
Lately he’s been having some stomach issues. He feels uncomfortably full all the time, and barely eats. This was how he felt ten or so years ago, when his ulcer ruptured and his stomach herniated; he started throwing up blood and ended up in the hospital. I was understandably concerned when it looked like it was happening again. The doctor ran some tests, bloodwork and ultrasound, and didn't see anything. But Michael still lost 25 pounds in three weeks. It was troublesome. I was hoping the endoscopy would yield some results.
The doctor said they found a minor hiatal hernia, small enough that they decided not to fix it right then. I asked if it would get better on its own; he said no, but it would take years for it to get worse. They also found polyps; they removed three to biopsy, but one started bleeding. They had to inject it with epinephrine and clamp it to get it to stop bleeding. They biopsied a spot they are pretty sure was caused by the GERD. We are awaiting the results of those, but the doctor says they are probably not worrisome.
I get Michael home and settled, go and run some errands, pick up some kids. When we come home, Emerald gets upset and calls me.
C.S. Lewis is bleeding from his nose and mouth, is making this strangled wheezing sound, and is running from us like he doesn't recognize us at all.
In the week leading up to this, he was getting a little more aggressive with Emerald, which was very much unlike him. He was born at our house and we handled him every day--he's never been a biter. But he was nipping Emerald nearly every day. Not hard, but enough.
I stuff C.S into the pet carrier and call the vet down the street that sees rabbits. That's the thing--most vets don't see rabbits; they are considered "exotics". But we are not established patients and they have a waiting room full until 8. It is 4.45. I call Sweetwater Animal Hospital, where we took Timmy the Destroyer (C.S. Lewis's father) to get neutered. They closed at 5 and we are 40 minutes away, but when I describe the problem, they tell me to get there as fast as I can, they'll wait for me.
Ben and I were terrified. He was sobbing into the bunny's fur, we could hear him struggle to get in each breath. But talking to him calmed him down, made him turn toward us and stop shaking. So we talked the entire way there.
It was very somber for such a silly little thing as a rabbit. But Dr. Bud told us that C.S. had caught Rabbit Hemorrhagic Disease. They had seen it a lot in our area; it has a 90-100% death rate. It was wiping out cottontail populations and 4H stock, and now my little guy had it. My funny little guy that puts his cheek on yours and makes kissy sounds because that's what people do to him; who stands on his hind legs when the gate opens and binkies out of control when I walk through.
The compassionate thing to do is usually to put the rabbit down. They are hurting, and are most likely not going to get better. But we wanted to try. Normally the bloody nose doesn't present until death, and here he was, holding on. He was breathing through his mouth because he was in respiratory distress, and his lungs crackled horribly. There were apneic moments where he would run because he couldn't draw breath at all. There were burst blood vessels in his eyes. He was scared. But he was still holding on.
So Dr. Bud prescribed an antibiotic to prevent a secondary infection from taking him out. He said the antibiotic was as likely to kill him as the disease, but at this point it was better than nothing.
That first night was so scary. He was exhausted but couldn't sleep, there was dried crusted blood on his face. He looked like the rabbit from Monty Python and sounded like there was fluid in his lungs. I fully expected to see a corpse in the cage in the morning.
But there he was, swaying on his feet and still hanging on.
At work the next day, I was so noticeably distraught that it brought the people around me down. I was a dark little storm cloud, and I didn't know how to act okay.
Emerald and Ben stayed home from school with him, so that if he passed, he wouldn't be alone. They texted me updates, telling me he got up and was moving around, trying to be closer to them. He drank a little water. He even tried to bathe himself! I thought they were being overly optimistic, willing this bun to pull through.
Sure enough when I got home, this weak little guy hopped over to me for pets. He got winded from the exertion but it was a start.
Slowly, he started getting better. We had fewer periods where he couldn't breathe at all. His lung sounds got clearer, and he started being able to breathe through his nose again. He was jumping up and down off of things, running around, acting like his old self.
The only problem was that he couldn't eat.
While he was very interested, and would hop over to investigate pellets or grass or hay or fresh produce excitedly, he wasn't actually eating anything, even preferred foods. Rabbits can only go around 12 hours without eating before they go into GI stasis, and C.S. had antibiotics knock out all his healthy gut flora.
He dropped down to 5 pounds, about half his body weight from before. We had to bathe him because he had made a mess of himself and to get rid of the blood. That's when we noticed the right side of his mouth drooped. I am still not sure what caused it. At the recommendation of the vet, who was quite invested in this little rabbit's survival at this point, we started syringe feeding him yogurt to stimulate his digestive system and repopulate that bacteria. He was so hungry that he would lap it up, even if it was a very strange way to eat for him.
Today, Michael had to take him back in to get a steroid shot and NSAIDS which should hopefully get little CS eating again.
I can't believe he made it through. I can't believe how much it mattered to me that he did. He is my quiet happy place, where I go when I get overwhelmed and need to get away.
This probably wasn't interesting to most people. But I wanted to remember it, our little warrior.
--Andie
