Operation Tucker

On Wednesday the dreaded day finally came. After successfully missing his first two surgical appointments due to our tardiness leaving the east coast, and Tucker coming down with a canine version of the dreaded 24-hour bug, we arrived at the vet’s office at 7:30 am sharp on February 13th, 2008 to let the vet work his magic. (To read about the procedure we chose click here – or read the post “Extracapsular Repair vs. Tibial Plateau Leveling Osteotomy“)I really think I would have been able to hold it together if it were not for a know-it-all receptionist doing her best to disprove and completely disregard the two most important things I had been told about the surgery up to this point. The first, and most important, being that I would be able to take Tucker home that same night, and secondly that we would be able to make payments to pay for the outrageously priced procedure.

I really care less about the money, the thing ended up being a good $250 more than the price that the vet originally quoted us from the get go (has there really been that much inflation since then). I do, however, mind being told that I will need to surrender my dog and allow him to stay over night in a strange place after he has had his knee torn apart by a man I barely know, and that there will be no one there during the night to check on him or make sure he is comfortable. That was when I started crying. The awful mental pictures of Tucker alone, crying, thinking we left him will haunt me forever, and I immediately became committed to the idea that there was no way that sad scenario was becoming a reality.

At about 8:15 am we finally ended up leaving the vet’s office. Tucker did his usual routine of not wanting to go in the back with the techs, wetting the floor as he gave in to their insisting. We headed home to go through the motions and act like we were going to be able to get work done, but we both knew that would not be the case. I think knowing subconsciously that the waiting during his surgery was going to be hard, Butterfinger stayed up the entire night before his procedure, working on his car with Mounds. Needless to say, Butterfinger completely conked out as soon as he hit the house, while I sought out people on instant messenger and email to solicit positive energy from.

I made my first call to the vet at about 12:00pm, which was quite a feat. No news yet, he was still under and the vet was still working on him. 12:45pm my phone rang, it was the doctor, he wanted to know whether or not I wanted to put a cast on the leg, to which I agreed in a heart beat – I am all for anything that will make it harder for Tucker to chew at his leg. He said Tucker was doing fine, he was coming out of the anesthesia, and they were getting ready to take his breathing tube out. I called again at about 2:00pm and a different voice answered the phone from the girl I had spoke to in the morning and earlier that day; a good sign. I thought that maybe this was the same girl who had told me that I would be able to take Tucker home with me at the end of the day, and I was right.

Within the first 2 minutes of our conversation she was telling me how well he was doing and that he was definitely well enough to come home with me if we wanted to come in at 5pm. Of course we always had the option to let him stay the night if we did not feel he was well enough to come home with us, but I did not care if I had to carry him out of there on my back myself, he was coming home with us.

And come home with us he did! He came out from the holding area with a towel wrapped around his midsection to help him walk, and a shiny, purple cast on his left leg. He had been doped up on a lot of Morphine and the glazed over look in his eyes was a pretty good indication that he was not in any pain. Butterfinger scooped him up and took him out to the van while I payed the exorbitant amount for the surgery. The tech I had spoken to on the phone about picking him up went over all his meds, things to watch for, and emergency info (just in case), meanwhile the vet ran back into a back room when he saw us out in the lobby. He did not so much as even say hello to us. He had my beloved dog all day, risked his life, sewed leader line in his leg, and he did not even have the decency to nod. I will give him his one free write off in this particular situation, maybe he had an emergency… he better have.

Tucker was pretty well out of it until about 9pm that night, that’s when the Morphine started to wear off and he was really feeling the pain. We gave him his oral meds as soon as we noticed he was uncomfortable, but there was about a 45 minute time span during which he was extremely uncomfortable. We did our best to keep him calm and relaxed while we waited for the meds to kick in, but it was really hard to sit there and watch him whine, especially since he has been playing the tough guy for so long. Finally he passed out and started whistling, I think his throat was hurting from the tube because the whistling had an extra high-pitched quality to it.

We were told that he would most likely wet himself in his sleep because he had a lot of IV meds that would be wanting to make their exit. We prepared his first night’s bedding with this in mind, using contractor bags as a base with a layer of towels and blankets we do not really care about. At about 4 am, in complete delirium, Tucker evacuated all of his IV fluids while Guapo stood by watching – not sure whether to run or protect Tucker, wondering which one of us was going to be the first to scream at him. I have never been so excited to have a dog pee on the floor, but this was a very good first step and meant Tucker was well on his way to a good recovery.

True to Tucker, his appetite was voracious when he got back home and despite all the tranquilizers and sedation he still wags his tail at the very mention of a T-bone snack or a Snookie. We are at the three day mark now and things are going as well as could be expected for a dog that has had his knee bones tied together with a string and is taking human-strength sedatives. He is extremely lethargic and has had a few accidents in the house, but for the most part he will at least try to make it to the door when he needs to go. His appetite is still strong, although he sometimes milks his condition and makes us feed him his kibble by hand. I just can not wait for my puppy to be feeling better and back in the yard chasing the birdies.