A few weeks back, my little guy, Bender, had jumped off the bed in at some point in the night and woke me up with his whimpering around 9am.
'I guess it's time to get up and take the dogs on their morning constitutional,' I thought. As I headed to the to my front door to grab the leashes, Doc ambled along behind me being the surly old beagle he is. Unfortunately, Bender struggled to follow, performing what I could only describe as a 'slither.' He was unable to use his back legs.
An intense panic began to wash over me, as Doc, oblivious to anything out of the norm, jumped up and down expecting to go on the walk I had promised through the act of grabbing the leashes. I rushed Doc once around the block and fortunately, he did his 'ones and twos' with a rare efficiency and headed back to my upstairs apartment to check on the little guy. As I climbed the stairs, I tried to relax and convince myself that he had just tweaked something and I would find him back on his feet with a look of consternation for having been left out of the walk he wakes up for every morning.
No such luck. I crumbled to my knees next to him, hugging him around the neck and repeatedly asking him what was wrong (Hey, maybe today is the day he reveals his perfect English skills to me). I called my sister in Utah babbling and trying to explain the situation before I hung up and threw up, almost simultaneously. I then called my vet (probably what I should have done first) however, being a Saturday they didn't have anyone in office who could help and told me to call an emergency services vet about a mile from my place. They told me to bring him in immediately, so after a few minutes of collecting myself, I carried little Bender to the car and headed over.
Bender has never been a huge fan of the car. Being unable to move made him enjoy this trip even less. There was much whimpering (both Bender and myself) until we arrived at the emergency care hospital.
Veterinarian's do amazing work. I always find it hard to grasp how they can perform their job's day in and day out, watching the grief poor over people as they have to say goodbye to their beloved pets, unable to truly explain how much they've meant to them and how much they've enriched their lives. I suppose the good must outweigh the bad and they must have many more stories of relief and triumph, as I hope this one shapes up to be.
Sitting in the waiting room for an hour was torture. Not only was I feeling helpless and overwhelmed, but I got to share in that feeling with many others. A woman brought is her dog who had been clipped by a car. They hurried him into the back room leaving a trail of blood droplets along the way (Don't worry, her dog pulled through fine. Just some stitches and a cast on his front leg for 6 weeks) An elderly man brought in his cat who would be making his last trip to the vet. It broke my heart to watch him drag out his last farewell to his friend before they finally went through the doors to send his cat on it's way.
Through the doors. A place of new beginnings and final chapters. My anxiety was mounting quickly and I tried to steel my nerves and make peace with the very real possibility that the room through those doors may be the last place Bender spends time on this Earth.
Finally, a young vet called my name and came to take Bender from me. A momentary relief crept in as I thought, 'OK, that guy can fix him. That's what they do. That's what they are paid to do.' Time was not my friend as my optimism dwindled with each passing second, with each cup of cheap coffee I guzzled as I fidgeted in my chair and paced the waiting room.
The girl at the front desk called my name and said the doctor was waiting in a room in the back to see me. I slowly walked back there as though the longer I took, the better the outlook would be. The doctor explained to me that being part dachshund, Bender was predisposed to having a condition where the discs in his back would become dehydrated making them easier to slip. Two discs in his spine had slipped, one of which was compressing his spinal cord as though one was pinching a straw which had shut down communication with his hind legs. The good news, was that he had not lost deep pain in his legs. Basically, even though he could not tell his legs what to do, his spinal cord had not been severed, and he could still feel them.
So the big question emerged. What are my options? He told me that there was a good option and a bad option. The good option was that we could rush the little guy into surgery now to repair the slipped discs and since he was young and could still feel deep pain, he was a very good candidate to regain most, if not all, of his mobility. He had prefaced this option with the statement, 'If money is of no consequence.'
I asked him how much and he responded with an estimate. Down goes Frazier. I thought about the number he quoted for about 10 seconds, realizing what the bad option must be. I could afford the surgery, but barely. Bender is my friend and I'm the only one who can help him and basically, his continued existence is my call. Surgery it is.
I asked the doctor if I could see him before they took him into surgery. After about five minutes, he came back gingerly carrying Bender in a blanket with an IV stent in his little front leg. He looked terrified and then he saw me. He started to squirm and when the doctor set him down on the examination table, he slithered closer and buried his head in my chest. About an eighth of a second after the doctor left and closed the door, the dam broke. I hugged my little guy delicately and sobbed into his ears. I just told him to be brave and be strong, but in the end, I knew I was mainly saying it to myself.
I got to hold him for about 30 minutes before the nurse came in to take him back to prep him for surgery. One last hug as he licked a tear from my cheek and I shit you not, a little wag from his otherwise motionless tail as if to tell me he would do his best and to try not to worry.
I went to the front desk and settled my bill for the lower end of the estimate, took a deep breath and walked outside with an empty collar in my hand and my heart in my throat. Nothing to do now but wait......
Like I said before, it will take a few posts to catch up to real time, so I thought this an appropriate place to end this segment to try to keep these retrospective posts from getting entirely too long. Also, please forgive the blurry nature of the pic of Bender and me, my hands were a bit shaky. Until next time...
T
Cliffhanger?!? Not fair! Now I have to follow you, well played.
crying.