According to Dr. Pluhar, Max's surgery would be starting about now. Part of me feels a bit silly for being so fixated on something that I can't control or have any influence over. And another part of me knows that this is the only way I have right now to "be with him". I can be aware of what he is likely experiencing by watching the clock.
Denying any dog breakfast is hard, but with beagles (who live to eat) it's a downright struggle. Luckily, today, Max was distracted enough by the odd hour that his dad and I were up and getting ready for the day. I took him out to the car while Brandon gave Warren his morning meal and then we were off to Saint Paul.
Riding with him on my lap, I was trying hard to emanate calm for him. As with human children, dogs often pick up on what their caregivers are feeling and either mirror it or respond to it. We had a quiet ride and took our sweet time getting from the car to the front door of the clinic. Max is a typical scent hound in that if he's outside, his nose is to the ground and working like crazy. There were so many smells, too, with all the traffic the U of M Vet Clinic sees. I stood patiently waiting for Max to catch up on all the latest happenings along the walk way and when he was ready, we went inside.
While Brandon checked us in, Max got to sniffing the inside of the clinic. And within less than a minute, he was emptying his bowels in the lobby. Never mind that we just spent nearly ten minutes getting from the car to the front door. Maybe he was just helping them to adjust their expectations for him right away. "I gotta be me."
Dr. Pluhar came out and welcomed us right away and made a fuss over meeting Max. She expressed surprise that he's fourteen, as everyone does upon meeting him. Granted, we adopted Max as an adult and just go by the shelter's report that he was three years old when we brought him home. But knowing Max, I think it makes perfect sense that he would embody the "You're only as old as you feel" adage.
I have to give props to Dr. Pluhar that she acknowledged my sensitivity and anxiety about Max's surgery by asking me how I was doing. I told her I was okay, and immediately explained that I have been talking to Max about what he can expect today in an effort to alleviate any fear he may have about the next couple of days. She laughed, good-naturedly, but it was a reminder that the way Brandon and I and many of the people in our lives regard animals is quite different than the way most other people do. Even many of those who spend more time with them than most and who have dedicated a large portion of their lives to helping them.
Refusing to feel awkward about the possibility that I would come off as a kook to his surgeon, I crouched down and explained to Max one last time that this is the time when his dad and I were going to leave him here because they have the machines and the medicine to make him feel better. I reminded him that the people here are very kind and they know a lot about how to make dogs feel better when they're sick or hurting. I told him that he was going to go to sleep later and when he woke up, he will probably feel funny and maybe be sore, but that his dad and I will see him as soon as we can and we would be coming to pick him up and take him home tomorrow. Dr. Pluhar indulged me in my choice of goodbye and reassured me one more time that he was going to be fine and she would call us later to let us know when he would be out of surgery.
Then she took Max's leash and tried to lead him away. He wasn't keen on going, so I spun him in the direction he needed to go and gave his tush a little nudge. He went along with her but tried to keep his eyes on us. I wasn't sure what to do - if it would be best for us to walk away and not be in his sight, or if we should stay where we were so he didn't interpret us turning our backs on him and leaving as abandonment. We ended up slowly shuffling away as Max was being reluctantly ushered in the other direction. When he was out of sight, the tears came.
I hadn't realized how much I had been stuffing down for his benefit. I wasn't having second thoughts, I was just finally able to cry without concern about how it would impact Max.
We took a few minutes and Brandon said the same things he's been saying to comfort me for a week. That this is the best place he could possibly be, that he should feel better when it's over, and that Max knows how much we love him. It helped, like it always does.
So now we wait for the call from Dr. Pluhar telling us we can come back to see him for a "drive by" visit as they transfer him from the surgical ward to the ICU. She's not authorizing visiting hours for Max tonight because he needs to stay quiet and resting, and if he sees us he will either get too excited or very distressed when we leave him again. So we're going to just see him when he's still coming out of anesthesia so we can see him and know he survived and he'll be okay.
Warren is going to be a little spoiled for the next day or so.
No comments:
Post a Comment