Emma, Emma
Over Christmas break, our geriatric beagle, Emma, became extremely ill and had a major seizure. And was ill again. After many vet appointments, one of which was an emergency visit, and countless tests (actually, I can count them very well--they were extremely expensive!), it was discovered that Emma had a huge growth on her spleen. The spleen needed to come out.
I sprung for a comprehensive ultrasound beforehand to better ensure (well, as much as I could) that she was not already bleeding internally or that polyps or growths had spread to other organs (indicative of cancer). I'd only let her endure the surgery if she had a good chance of recovery.
Well, the ultrasound showed a well-contained mass. If the vet removed her spleen, our Emma would have a good shot at full recovery and several more years of not listening to me, snoring too loudly, and melting everyone's heart with her sweetness. We decided to do the surgery.
The surgery took place a bit over a week ago, along with a biopsy for a weird growth in her mouth. (When it rains, it pours.)
I was an emotional wreck , feeling so guilty for leaving Emma at the vet, putting her through the surgery, not being able to explain to her what was happening. The whole dang family went to pick her up, because both Chris and I wanted to hear the discharge instructions first-hand.
The veterinarian said that Emma had been loopy and lethargic (not surprising), but when we came in, she heard us and perked up and became much more active. "She really loves you guys," the vet said, and I nearly cried.
Emma did well during and post-surgery. Apparently the mass was quite attached to her stomach, so a lot of cutting had to take place. But we're told the blood flow is still good and the stomach looked healthy and pink, so yay?
At home, this furry girl broke my heart. She was clearly in pain and trying to sleep sitting up to avoid hurting her tummy. At bedtime, Chris gently lifted her onto our bed and we kept off her cone to help her be as comfy as possible. Blessedly, our Emma slept well, almost too well--I kept checking to see that she was breathing--and never made a move toward her incision.
The next morning she was far more active and ate breakfast, and I even got a wagging tail at one point. I stayed home with her for several days. Finally, we got the biopsy results. The mass was benign--BENIGN! Oh, happy day.
Dogs are like kids. Not just because they're family (and they are) but because they share a lot of characteristics. They're expensive. They can cause immense stress. You might find yourself sleeping on the couch with them when they're sick, or dealing with middle-of-the-night illnesses. You use bribery to get them to take medicine.
But despite their great costs--financial, emotional, energy---and despite the stress they can induce, all these things occur because you dearly love your fur person. My anxiety and stress over Emma's health is because I looooove her.
It's like that with people. You grieve a death because they lived and you loved. You worry about someone's crappy decisions or self-destruction or weird growth because you love. And tell me, what parent can even stomach the idea of someone hurting their child?
Pain and love. Funny how those two can go together. Funny how much dogs can teach.
I sprung for a comprehensive ultrasound beforehand to better ensure (well, as much as I could) that she was not already bleeding internally or that polyps or growths had spread to other organs (indicative of cancer). I'd only let her endure the surgery if she had a good chance of recovery.
Well, the ultrasound showed a well-contained mass. If the vet removed her spleen, our Emma would have a good shot at full recovery and several more years of not listening to me, snoring too loudly, and melting everyone's heart with her sweetness. We decided to do the surgery.
The surgery took place a bit over a week ago, along with a biopsy for a weird growth in her mouth. (When it rains, it pours.)
I was an emotional wreck , feeling so guilty for leaving Emma at the vet, putting her through the surgery, not being able to explain to her what was happening. The whole dang family went to pick her up, because both Chris and I wanted to hear the discharge instructions first-hand.
The veterinarian said that Emma had been loopy and lethargic (not surprising), but when we came in, she heard us and perked up and became much more active. "She really loves you guys," the vet said, and I nearly cried.
Emma did well during and post-surgery. Apparently the mass was quite attached to her stomach, so a lot of cutting had to take place. But we're told the blood flow is still good and the stomach looked healthy and pink, so yay?
At home, this furry girl broke my heart. She was clearly in pain and trying to sleep sitting up to avoid hurting her tummy. At bedtime, Chris gently lifted her onto our bed and we kept off her cone to help her be as comfy as possible. Blessedly, our Emma slept well, almost too well--I kept checking to see that she was breathing--and never made a move toward her incision.
The next morning she was far more active and ate breakfast, and I even got a wagging tail at one point. I stayed home with her for several days. Finally, we got the biopsy results. The mass was benign--BENIGN! Oh, happy day.
Dogs are like kids. Not just because they're family (and they are) but because they share a lot of characteristics. They're expensive. They can cause immense stress. You might find yourself sleeping on the couch with them when they're sick, or dealing with middle-of-the-night illnesses. You use bribery to get them to take medicine.
But despite their great costs--financial, emotional, energy---and despite the stress they can induce, all these things occur because you dearly love your fur person. My anxiety and stress over Emma's health is because I looooove her.
It's like that with people. You grieve a death because they lived and you loved. You worry about someone's crappy decisions or self-destruction or weird growth because you love. And tell me, what parent can even stomach the idea of someone hurting their child?
Pain and love. Funny how those two can go together. Funny how much dogs can teach.
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