All Aboard the Emotional Rollercoaster

I think I can say without reservation that I have had one of the worst weeks of my life. On Tuesday night I got home from class around 10:30 to find a very sad-faced dog with his tail between his legs. At first I thought he must have done something to feel guilty about but I quickly realized he was sick. Very sick. This was confirmed when I walked into my bedroom and found the he had thrown up 15 times. Yes, I counted. I tried to pick him up but he cried with pain and tried to snap at me. Two times I tried to pick him up and he wouldn't let me. I knew something bad was wrong.

Let my preface the rest of the story by saying that anyone who knows anything about me knows that I love my dog. I mean, I really LLLOOOOVE my dog. I've had him almost 13 years and we are both extremely attached to one another. He's my constant companion. He sleeps with me. He sits on the bathmat outside the shower waiting for me to get out. He's my walking buddy. He's the one who greets me when I get home. I love him.

So when I realized he was very sick I immediately googled emergency vets in the area and found one within 15 minutes of my place. I got him in the car....he still wouldn't let me pick him up so I just sort of boosted him into the car. He just sat in the passenger seat without moving. Usually he's kind of a pest in the car trying to look out the window and sit on my lap and hopping from the front seat to the back. Yep, my dog was definitely sick.

We got to the ER where the vet said he was in severe pain. She could tell by his posture and how he tensed up when she touched his back and belly. At this point, we weren't sure if it was the back or belly causing the pain. So they did bloodwork and xrays and I waited. Finally the vet called me back and reviewed the bloodwork first. "Something's wrong with the liver." And I could tell from how she looked at me and how she slowly brought the xrays out what she was goign to tell me. "Here is where his liver ends. And here is where it should end. Over here is his stomach, but it should not be there. It's being pushed out of place by his liver." At this point I am numb waiting for her to just get to the damn point because we both knew what the point was. "It's likely liver cancer but we will need to do an ultrasound in the morning when the specialists get here to be sure." Still numb and speechless at this point. Then she said, "Liver cancer is very aggressive in dogs. If we confirm liver cancer his time will be very short." And I crumbled. Because I knew what she meant. More than meaning he was going to die, she meant I would need to make a decision and quickly and that the right decision would be to spare his suffering.

In my head I was trying to understand how in the course of just 24 hours Buster had gone from a spunky little dog who loves walking with me, chasing the cat, and barking at anyone who dares pass by our house, to one I was going to have to put down. While my mind was racing she talked about keeping him over night so they could control his pain. She mentioned if it was only in one lobe of the liver they might be able to remove it. She talked about the size of what she was seeing on the xray and that because of the size she was pretty certain it was cancer. She talked about palliative care if I wanted to be able to bring him home for awhile. She said they would call in the morning with a status update and to let me know when they could do the ultrasound.

And the rest of the night I spent in hell. I called my dad. I texted a couple of friends. But mostly I sat on my couch and cried. I didn't get much sleep. Just dozing in and out on the couch. At one point I woke up and thought, "Where's Buster?" and then I remembered what had happened that night. It was terrible.

In the morning I waited for their call and tried to get ready to make the decision I didn't want to make. Finally the vet called and said, "I have some news I think you are going to be happy to hear." I thought she would tell me that it was only in one lobe and they could remove it. But it was better than that. It turns out what she thought was a large mass in his liver was actually a severely distended gall bladder. His ducts were blocked and bile couldn't drain from the gall bladder. So it was getting bigger and bigger, making him sick and making him hurt. It was dangerously close to rupturing but they could remove it and do some exploration while they were in there to be doubly sure nothing else was wrong.

Hallelujah!!!! If I had been in the room with her I might have kissed her. But she reigns in my happiness by saying that although she is fairly certain its just blocked ducts in the gall bladder there was still a possibility that there was cancer involvement causing the gall bladder problem. She said if they got in there and found anything like that I might want to consider not waking him up from the surgery. And BOOM!!! I came crashing back down again.

I raced to the surgery center so I could see him before the surgery just in case it was the last time. I met with the surgeon first and she explained that this was still a serious surgery and that the first few days out would be critical. She said that many times they go into gall bladder surgery and things look like they will be just fine and then they end up not fine. I asked her what she meant by that and she very directly said, "He could die." No sugar-coating, that is for sure. Statistically, about half of dogs don't live more than 3 days after this surgery but if they do then they are generally out of the woods. So while I was still glad he didn't have cancer I knew he was still in alot of danger and I could still lose him.

They brought him in to see me before they started. He was still so sick and so miserable that I just gave him a quick pat and looked into those little eyes so he would know I was there with him. Then they took him and I went home to wait. I waited and tried to stay positive. Lots of people were calling me to check on Buster's status. Yes, everyone knows how much I love my little dog and they were worried - for him AND me.

A couple of hours later the surgeon called to say they were done, that it all went well, and that Buster was in recovery. The surgery went well and they found no signs of cancer anywhere. But she did say that the gall bladder was on the verge of bursting and was weeping fluid into his abdominal cavity. So it's a good thing I didn't wait to bring him in. They would be keeping him on paid meds, antibiotics, and I wouldn't be able to visit him til the next day.

When I did get to visit the next day he was a completely different dog. He was a little dopey from the pain meds but he was trotting around almost like normal. I sat on the floor with him and he crawled into my lap. Ah...joy to me. I sat with him for awhile and then I had to get back to work. They wanted to keep him another night.

Yesterday I was able to bring him home. Not sure who was happier, he or I. They mentioned he wouldn't eat for them and if I couldn't get him to eat by Sunday I needed to bring him back. So far I haven't been able to get him to eat a thing. He's drinking well. We went on a very short little walk to the corner and back. He's been laying on the bed surveying his kingdom out the window and barking little tiny barks (instead of his usual big mean ones) at the people passing by. So all those are good signs to me. I just wish I could get him to eat. I don't want to have to take him back.

So, yeah, I've been on a major emotional roller coaster these past couple of days. Going from thinking my dog has cancer and I would have to put him down to finding out it was just a gall bladder. I'm just glad he's here with me now. I am anxious to see continued improvement so I can get my spunky little crazy dog back all the way.

I am grateful for so many things right now. That I live in a big enough place that we have access to emergency veterinary care. That I can afford it. That the overnight ER vet stayed 3 hours past her normal shift just to take care of Buster and so she could be the one to tell me the good news. That my friends and family understand Buster's not "just a dog". Most of all I am grateful I am going to get to spend more happy days with my little buddy.