Tales from Murrayland

Inspirational song: See Me, Feel Me (The Who)

Murray had a very big day today. He went on an epic journey to meet with some of the smartest kids in the region, to see whether they could and would alter his life. After an unreasonably bouncy ride down from the mountains yesterday (on a road that apparently wasn't really a road, they found out as they were backing a half a mile up a four-wheel-drive track in the pickup), he was reluctant to ride in a vehicle again, but he quickly remembered that riding in mom's car is much cushier. I tend to insist that he has half of his carrier (as a liquids barrier between him and my upholstery) and a blanket to cushion and protect him while he rides with air conditioning, radio, and parents talking to him. He rather likes that part. It took us far less time to arrive in Fort Collins than we expected, so we all drove around a little to waste time before Murray's appointment. He got very excited when we went past a magic window, but he was disappointed to learn that it only dispensed coffee, not hamburgers.

The proceedings kicked off with us offering an extensive history for a fourth-year vet student who was our case manager, and then we consulted with another fourth-year, a teaching vet, and a neurology specialist for more information, and to give permissions for diagnostics, as needed. And then, much to my surprise, Murray was whisked away to be evaluated without our interference. So we went to the deli on the second floor of the hospital, and had a lunch that couldn't be beat while Murray was poked and prodded and generally injected, inspected, detected, neglected, and selected. Well, probably not the neglected part. After lunch we got the report from neurology, which was, in short, don't expect miracles. I'm glad they got that part out of the way early. I had told them my only real goals were maybe three working legs and bladder control. So much for that. They explained that his leg movements were what they called "skeletal walking," which basically means that when his feet hit the ground (or other such muscle stimulation), his body instinctively and uncontrollably fires off walking-like movements. There is no conscious control, and it is not going to develop into real walking, and probably not real standing. But this is not to say that there was nothing they could offer to improve his life. Following the initial evaluation with neurology, and with permission from us, they sent him first to orthopedics, and then to physical therapy. Each of those departments had a great time meeting him and working with him to see how they could play a part in his development and pursuit of a rich life. The orthopedist is interested in how his front paws splay out to the sides, and how to keep his wrists healthy as Murray matures and ages. The physical therapist was quite helpful in teaching me how to handle him, since I freely admitted to struggling with getting him in and out of wheels, and to being less than pleased with how often he pees on me. She showed me exactly where to grab to pick up his hind end, and while we chatted with the orthopedist who was genuinely interested in making sure we could bring him back for further study, the PT constructed a lift for him out of a couple leashes, some cast material, and vet wrap. She was clever and creative, and I can already tell that her input has been of great value to me.

One of the things all of the docs stressed was that his wheels need to be fitted to him better. For one, they all said that the frame of the wheelchair is too wide, and they reiterated what we knew, that the front supports hang way too low. To keep Murray more centered and aligned correctly, we are going to purchase/make a harness that is more like a vest, that can keep the cart-arms higher on his shoulders, and we were told to go buy pool noodles to run on either side of his body to keep him straighter. We shopped on the way home, at both of the major chain pet stores in town. Neither had the brand of harness we were told to buy, and oddly, neither had the incontinence bands that they suggested would be better than his diapers we had been using when he first came to the US. I can easily recreate the belly band diaper, but the harness is going to be more work to design. We will be working with him over the next few weeks, and then next month we will start scheduling more visits with the physical therapists to see how he is doing. 

After seeing how incredibly interesting he is to everyone there, Mr S-P has finally been convinced that Murray needs his own Facebook page. I asked to be the one to make it (as I've been suggesting for months), but he seems reluctant to let me do it. It's probably just as well, knowing how poorly I've done in advertising my own Scenes from Smith Park page. It's going to be another big blow to my ego when my predictions come true, that within the first few hours, Murray will probably have more followers than I have collected in a couple years. I have been spit-balling some hashtags to use to tie back to him. I like the sound of #Murrayland, and we both like the feeling evoked by #WhatWheels. Murray has never let his handicap define him. He has always thought of himself as entirely whole, entirely capable, and entirely fearless. Nothing today changed that. If anything, it just proved that he was right all along.