Today was the day that Joe was supposed to pick up Nitro from the vet
after having his bone biopsy. Sometimes things don’t go as planned. Let’s begin
by saying I think that I don’t love this vet. It is actually not one vet but a
conglomerate of vets, like a specialty practice. They have a PT room, an eye
doctor, an orthopedic specialist and a dermatologist (among others). They are
open 24 hours a day. The waiting room is cold with tiled floors, no music and harsh
lighting. One of the girls at the front desk is chatty but ineffective. The others
are not chatty and ineffective. In short, it feels like a business and not like
a vet’s office. Like, can we get you to pay for doggie reiki and acupuncture and
oh by the way, we also sell the specialty food you need.
I think that it is not going overboard by saying that Joe has been kind
of a wreck over his dog. So when we went in there and were kind of ignored and
then had to wait forever in this freezing cold sterile environment, it really
helped to exacerbate an already tense-filled visit. I will admit that the
surgical vet tech was sweet and wonderful and I almost spontaneously hugged her
at one point (all of my aloha bubbling to the surface.) Everything just took
too damn long there. She came in with the discharge instructions and then
disappeared for a while. She came back with the medication schedule and then
disappeared for a while. Joe and I read the cards of gratefulness on the wall
and got to witness the total and utter breakdown of a family out in the waiting
room as they were told that their dog was likely not going to pull through
whatever emergency they had come in to remedy. Finally Nitro was brought out.
At first I thought he looked better than I thought he would but then I changed
my mind. His leg was shaved, bruised and super swollen. The wound where they
had taken the biopsy was much larger than I had thought it would be. They had
put one of those clear coverings like they put on people’s IVs and it was
pretty much a bloody mess through that little window. And despite all of this,
they were turning him over to us.
We get Nitro out to the car (Joe has an Audi two door convertible. If we
had really thought about this, we would have taken my mom’s four door); we
realize that this is a bad idea and is not going to be easy for Nitro (remember
Nitro is not the shih tzu, Nitro is the greyhound). Joe helps him into the car.
I think that the only reason that he was able to do this at all is because
Nitro is hopped up on pain killers. Nitro is in the backseat and blood is
dripping from his bandaged wound. We do not feel good about this. I go back
inside to see if the vet tech can come and take a look. She comes out with me
and aside from Nitro not looking good, Joe does not look good either. He looks
gray and I notice that his forehead is beaded with sweat. The tech tells us
that she can take Nitro back in and re- bandage the wound, we can take him home
and put ice on it when we get there, or he can stay another night. We opt for
number three. The tech tells Joe to stay while she takes Nitro back in. Joe
rallies and goes inside for a bottle of water. The tech seems surprised to see
him in there when she comes out and commends him on his water. I think she
thought he would be passed out in the back of the car. I am glad that did not
happen. I do drive the car out of the vets as we go to get something to eat (it
is close to 3:00 and neither of us has eaten anything).
This was the story from yesterday. The prognosis from today does not
seem much cheerier. The good thing is that Joe is kind of irritated with the
vet because he thinks that some of her recommendations have been unnecessary.
Although he is still indescribably sad, he is equipping himself to ensure Nitro
gets everything he needs and nothing that he doesn’t. Things will not be easy moving
forward but I know that Nitro will have the person who loves him the most
looking out for him the best.