On the tube food front, he was at six cans a day. To get the tube removed, he needs to be off tube food completely for two weeks with no weight loss. So when he started eating, he started cutting down on the tube food. After a week at five cans with no weight loss, he decided to drop another can. I thought it was too soon. I thought two weeks would have been better—stabilize for a while—but once he gets it in his head he wants to do something, it's best to just let him do it. And of course, he was right. A week on four cans with no weight loss led to three cans, two and one. Today, he had what he hopes is his last can of tube food. If he can go two weeks with no weight loss, he will get rid of that tube. Nothing makes him happier.
With all that good news, I do so hate to complain. But I am, after all, me, so here goes. His taste still isn't the best. The first bite of most things is pretty good, but as he eats more bites, the tasty goodness disappears and nothing tastes great. Yet he must keep eating. Imagine if you will that everything you ate had no taste. It would not motivate you to eat much, would it? For many of us, that might not be so bad—if I couldn't taste, I might not eat as much, and BINGO! New diet. But he's lost just about as much weight as he should. And he still has to keep eating. So I feel sad for him. But he is learning what he likes—and what he doesn't—and we've even been to a couple of restaurants. Plus, he never whines. I can tell you (and so can he), I would be whining all the time.
At any rate, that's all the news from here. Considering he could be dead right now, or really sick, or a whole host of other things, I'll take what we have.
Much love from Vic, Patty and Princess Wagglebutt a.k.a. Wags
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