Max is changing. And has changed.
Many of the changes are both surprising and expected. Concerning yet manageable. Significant enough to warrant notice but not discouragement. As with so many of life's momentous occasions, contradictions abound.
There are the physical set of changes: his vision, hearing, mobility, energy levels, and expanding paralysis and there are the neurological or behavioral changes, which are much more subtle. These are the ones that are most difficult to cope with.
One of my many anxieties about opting for brain surgery for Max was concern about personality changes as a side effect. None of the other dogs in the study experienced anything like that - at least nothing that their parents could notice and report. Since Max's surgery nearly three months ago, I would say his personality has remained in tact, though we do believe he's lost some inhibitions.
But there have been changes.
Some of them are hard to detect. Like the temperature differences between food that's warm and food that's warm enough to have some light steam rising from it. You may not notice unless the light hits it just right that the steam is even there.
One of the obvious behavioral makers that pointed to neurological changes was Max's propensity to turn in slow circles - only one direction - and with no discernible intention to lay down or that he was sniffing to locate something or even just check out that spot of floor. He'd just turn in slow circles for no apparent reason.
It turns out that this is a symptom of canine Alzheimer's and Max's MRI had shown he'd had several micro-hemorrhages and would likely continue to experience them. This is not related to his surgery and may have even happened if he'd never developed the meningioma.
Because some of these changes are so subtle and difficult to define in some cases, I find I can't get the kind of guidance or reassurance I'd like from the veterinary community. Small changes occur in elderly humans that aren't pathological just as they do in dogs. Alzheimer's takes time to develop, and its symptoms present intermittently. My guess is while many people develop incredibly close bonds with their dogs, the percentage of dogs who live long enough to be candidates for Alzheimer's and live with a person who has paid close enough attention to notice changes this subtle would be small.
I also wonder how mine and Brandon's views regarding animals as persons influences our observations of Max vs. the culturally dominant view of other animals as inherently different or inferior to humans impacts individual relationships between people and their dogs and the humans; ability to detect such subtle changes in their dogs. I worry about coming off as superior or insensitive to people who have formed an intense bond with their dog but who don't recognize that other animals are every bit as individual as the one with whom they have formed this strong bond. Because I don't understand the mental or emotional compartmentalization that is required by people who can enjoy such a close relationship with one animal yet eat or wear others, I do wonder about whether or not the fact that I see all animals as people (individuals with a body and individual characters and personalities who value their lives as we do ours) results in a fundamentally different relationship with Max than those who don't regard all animals in such a way.
I worry about Max's experience and whether or not he feels any more lonely or alienated when he's disoriented. It hurts when I know he's not fully present - not only because he can't see or hear me as well, but because his mind is in an altered state, too. The most important thing to me is that he knows he's loved, deeply and fiercely and completely, and the potential that the changes in his brain could cloud any of that knowledge for him is the thing that scares me the most. And is the true source of my grief over him slipping away at times. I have enough love for him no matter what happens - but the idea of him not being capable of receiving and feeling it on his end is what hurts my heart.
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