Ready….Set…..Amputate!
So there we were. By the day following Hanks diagnosis, there were only a few things I knew for sure…..
- My dog had a bone tumor
- I had a massive headache
- That awful, terrible leg and it’s stupid tumor was gonna come off ASAP
- There was no way in hell I was going to be the one to do it, because despite how comfortable I was with surgically amputating any limb on a dog or cat, if I did this to my own dog, I would for sure screw it up royally and kill him
So I did what any other surgically competent and confident veterinarian would do….I bribed my colleague with a bag of Skittles and a bottle of wine to add Hank to her already booked surgery schedule for…..why not, Monday. Yes, that technically would be the next day (the day after I diagnosed him). And, even better, I was working that next night so I could care for him post-op and take him home with me the following morning. No biggie.
Pre-op…..not terrified at all
So, so, so many bad ideas that seemed awesome at the time.
By the morning following Hanks surgery, there were yet again only a few things I knew for sure….
- I had no idea what I was doing
- I was in no way prepared for what was in store for us in the weeks to come
- I would never attempt to be my dog’s doctor overnight again…EVER. [for example…any other post-op amputation patient I would have had in the hospital would have been placed on a Fentanyl CRI, a Lidocaine CRI and given Rimadyl/Carprofen injections for pain management which has always worked perfectly fine. When I had Hank overnight, I had convinced myself that he was in horrific pain, so he got Fentanyl and just about every other opiate pain medication I could grab from my cabinet, along with some Ketamine (why not?) and a bunch of sedatives, which, as you could imagine, got him so stoned out of his mind that he spent most of the night flopping around his cage and crying from dysphoria…which every time I heard, would turn me into a blubbering idiot incapable of making any more decisions about his care. By the end of the night, I was exhausted, Hank looked like he had just stumbled out of a Led Zepplin concert from 1971, and my nurses were trying to usher me out of the door as fast as they could. Yea…fab idea Dr. P….you’re a moron. On my drive home with him in the back of my Subaru, I could imagine it’s how new parents feel bringing their new baby home from the hospital…what went through my mind was something like “Wait…you’re letting me take him home? Are you sure you want to do that?”
Hank immediately post-op
When I got home from that torturous 13 hours at work, I had Adam help me carry him out of the car, up a flight of stairs and into our living room where Hank’s bed was settled on our floor next to the couch. After we set him down and knelt together next to his bed, I finally got a chance to look at Hank’s face, his worried and confused eyes, his huge incision with lots of bloody fluid already dripping from it and just how completely different he seemed compared to the dog I brought with me to work the day prior. And I began to sob. I remember looking at Adam (who was also teary-eyed and very shocked at Hank’s appearance) and thinking there was NOTHING I knew for sure at that very moment, hence the one sentence I was able to squeak out….
“Did I do the right thing?”
I would spend the next 2 weeks asking myself that question every moment of every day and also questioning the countless times I had nonchalantly recommended amputation to an owner for whatever reason their animal needed it because “they were given four legs for a reason, right?” and “they would recover much faster compared to _____________ (a major fracture repair, an FHO or hip repair, daily bandage changes for severe wounds, etc).” Turns out I may have been full of shit and the big thing I learned from this situation… unless I have been through such a thing, I have no right recommending it owners as if its as easy as having a wart removed from your foot/hand/arm. Mostly because what I completely underestimated about having a dog as a post-op amputee was not just the intense recovery for the body (which my medical knowledge told me made sense), but the HUGE affect it has on their mind, which, in my opinion, was possibly the hardest part of the whole process.
Lesson learned. Big time.
Thank you, Hank- not only being the best companion/face-licker/wiggler/crotch punching dog a girl could ask for, but for also making me a better veterinarian.
LP
10 comments so far
8:45 am - 3-26-2016
This is a beautiful story of how animals can teach us all humility. I am not a vet and didn’t diagnose my own dog, but I can for sure tell you that the emotions all the way around were just the same. I still wonder sometimes, but I know I did the right thing for Elsa. She goes for walks with our crew in her little wagon and couldn’t be happier seeing the sights, sniffing the air, getting the attention of passers by, and most of all living her life without pain.
9:09 am - 3-26-2016
Agreed Michelle! What’s funny is that now I don’t regret it at all. Especially since Hank has finally returned to his normal, happy, running/jumping and goofy self despite going through chemo and missing a leg. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat now that I get to see him thrive. Glad to hear Elsa is also doing well. 🙂
12:50 pm - 3-26-2016
Thank you for sharing such a candid, funny and very moving story! It brought laughter, tears and tough memories of that first month I had with my girl,Gracie. You’re a wonderful writer and you reflected about the experience so well. Much love to you and Hank- I’m so happy that he’s back to his goofy self now!!!
3:55 pm - 3-26-2016
Thank you for sharing your story from a vet/dog mom perspective. My cat Mona had her leg amputated the day after the vet recommended it. Luckily I had no time to think through the amputation and also had no time to consider her recovery. As humans we manage somehow, as animals, our pets excel. They are so resilient. Not only are you a better vet now, your experience will give more comfort to your clients. I’m happy to hear Hank has recovered and is back to being Hank.
Kerren and Tripawd Kitty Mona (VAS survivor)
4:06 pm - 3-26-2016
You continue to do an excellent job of chronicling Hank’s journey. And the insight Hank is giving you so you can be THE most empathetic Bet for others is beautiful!!
The picture of Hank in his preoperative surgical cap…priceless!!
One mantra we share with everyone around here is, even though it doesn’t feel like it at first, we are doing this FOR our dogs, not TO them! It took me about three weeks before I could finally say I did this FOR my beloved Happy Hannah.
Hugs to you and Adam and, of course, Hank!
Sally and Alumni Happy Hannah and Merry Myrtle and Frankie too!
4:14 pm - 3-26-2016
To My Daughter – who calls me every morning on her way home after a 13 hour shift – to tell me all the funny, gory, sad, happy and frustrating experiences she had during the night treating emergency patients at the pet hospital. You have shared your story about Hank in an incredible way. You are a wonderful writer and you remind us all of how these bundles of fur and teeth and big eyes are so much a part of the family, that our vision becomes blurred when they are hurt. That the knowledge and confidence you bring to your job is short circuited when it comes to your own pet. However – as you so poignantly describe – this journey with Hank has been a true learning experience and has made you a better vet. You are a smart, compassionate, funny, gifted woman whose passion is the care of animals. Thank you for bringing this story to life and reminding us that every day is a life lesson and a gift.
5:32 am - 3-27-2016
Thanks mom 🙂
3:25 am - 3-27-2016
Mom, clearly the apple didn’t fall far from the tree!! You’ve written a lovely letter to your very daughter. You’ve helped shape a beautiful Soul. I know you both are proud of each other…and Hank is lroud of both of you!
Love and light
Sally and Alumni Happy Hannah and Merry Myrtle and Frankie too!
6:15 pm - 3-27-2016
I love your Vizsla Hank. My Vizsla Bart underwent amputation for OSA and remained in remission for almost 6 years. Paws crossed that Hank gets a lot of years to wiggle and crotch punch you!
2:27 pm - 3-28-2016
Sweet Hank! Oh, don’t you know what you’ve put your mother through?
But, just like the nurses I work with … while they’re pregnant & something happens or when their child is hurt or sick – they become the parent & forget the nurse that they are! It’s normal. You’re doing the same thing…Hank is your baby. There’s a reason we’re not supposed to take care of family members 🙂
You are doing an amazing job with Hank!
Donna