What the hell was I thinking?

Seems I am always apologizing for not writing more often these days. I have a really, really good excuse this time, though. So be nice to me, I am an emotional basket case currently.




Poppy, my Newfoundland, is now 13 months old, and it was time for her to be spayed. I did all due diligence, and trust my vet implicitly. We decided, at the same time, to do what is known as a "gastropexy" which is basically a stomach tack. The stomach is moved about 1.5 inches, and stitched to the abdominal wall. It sounds barbaric, but I assure you, it is actually helpful. Some background:

Broad-chested dogs can have a problem that we refer to as "bloat." This means that the stomach fills with gas, and cannot escape. Often when this happens, the stomach twists, which is called torsion. It cuts off the blood supply and you have roughly a half-hour to get the dog to the vet, or you are going to lose her. Bloat is a concern, because we really don't know what causes it. Some say elevated feeding bowls, some say bowls on the floor. Too much water, stress... there are many thoughts, but no one really can pinpoint which dog will suffer from it. So while we had her there for her spay, we went ahead and had the gastropexy done, as well. If it keeps her alive, it was worth it.

Now that you know that, you will better understand the next part. The day we brought her home, within two hours I could tell she was in pain. So I drove the 30 minutes back to the vet's office to get her medicine. That first night, she was drugged out of her mind, but didn't have a lot of pain. By Friday, she had some pain but it seemed mostly controlled. She wouldn't stop licking, so we bought a "cone of shame" and put it on her for nighttime, since we couldn't watch her while we were sleeping. The rest of that night, she would alternatively wake up crashing around, or just stand and refuse to lie down. For two nights now, I have been awoken with an adrenalin rush because she refuses to settle for long. I am exhausted. Luckily, today is Saturday, and JNerd let me sleep in once the dog finally collapsed into sleep.




Skip to now. Today, Saturday, she is in pain. Panting, and standing, pacing a bit. She is eating, so that's good. I drove to the vet's office again and picked up an anti-inflammatory, to try bring down the swelling. Poor thing will lie down, and then jump back up quickly. I think the incision or the razor burn are very uncomfortable. If she isn't better tomorrow, I will be bringing her to the vet. She is absolutely NOT herself, at all. I wish there was more I could do. Her meds are delivered via vanilla ice cream, the thing she loves more than anything in the world. At least there is that bright spot in all of this. But honestly?

I am worried.
T.