Angel's surgery went well, a little bump in the recovery

Angel's surgery went well.  I brought her home Friday morning and have been hovering over her ever since, trying to make sure she doesn't undo the surgery. 

This particular surgery splits the lower leg bone and screws it back together with a small gap.  The gap fills back up with bone tissue.  The new knee "cup" is wider and not dependent on the ligaments for support. 

Her left leg, done in 2011, healed quite well, although I should have done more physical therapy on the muscles surrounding the knee.  Once I got Bogie, Angel exercised enough to rebuild the muscles.   So I have high hopes for this, the right leg.

She came home Friday with 4 kinds of pills.  Antibiotics once a day for a week.  Pain killers up to 4 pills per day as needed.  Anti-inflammatories twice a day as needed.  And a mild sedative to use if she gets too active or agitated. 

By late afternoon Friday, she was getting restless.  I don't have a crate and didn't want to crate her.  Bogie would have taunted her and Angel would have felt punished.  Ditto for locking her in a room by herself. 

I tried leashing her with a cloth leash, with one end around my toe.  But she kept struggling to get up.  So I gave her a sedative.  The instructions said 1/2 to 1 pill.  I gave her the half.  

She settled down and went back to sleep.  An hour later I looked at her and she didn't seem to be breathing.  I admit, I panicked.  I went to her and shook her.  Several times. She didn't move.  But she finally blinked.  I lifted her head and it was limp.  I picked up a leg and it just fell with no resistance when I let go. 

I was freaking out, wondering how I would get her to the emergency vet.  That's the downside of large dogs.  I can't pick them up by myself. 

I finally roused her enough to stumble outside, while I supported her with the sling the vet sent home.  I let her collapse in the grass while I sat on the patio.  I went inside to the kitchen where I could still see her.  But I decided I would rather have her inside.  

I went back outside to get her.  She was nudging her leg with her nose and I saw tiny ants crawling on the bare flesh.   I wiped them away, then tried to pick her up.  I couldn't, even with the sling.  She was too limp, all dead weight.

Finally, I got a bath towel, laid in on the ground, used the sling to lift her onto the towel, and dragged her across the grass and patio concrete.  Once we got to the door, she managed to stumble over the sill.  

I guided her to the living room where she laid down in a heap on the throw rug. I sat down beside her.  I petted her and watched TV for probably an hour before she started acting more alert.   

The past couple days, when she got too antsy, I've given her 1/4 sedative.  That calms her down just enough to stay off her leg, without totally terrifying me. 

I have a couple more weeks where I have to keep her from using the leg too much.  It's going to be a long two weeks. 

The Middleman saved my day

I don't get sick often.  But this year I did not escape the cold that has been circulating around both work and the gym. (Same cold or different?)

Anyway, I came home from work early and took a nap.  When I woke up, I didn't have anything to distract me from my self-pity.  Too fuzzy brained to read.  Nothing remotely acceptable on daytime TV.  Couldn't play games on my phone because it is *broken*.

Then I remembered I had the entire series of The Middleman on DVD.  From IMDB: "A struggling artist is recruited by a secret agency to fight against evil forces."

The series was campy and corny, with sort of an Adam West Batman vibe.  There were subtle pop culture references like having the ghost infested sorority house located on Ray Parker Jr. Lane.  Unfortunately, there were only 12 episodes made.

It was the perfect pastime for a cold, rainy winter day when I wasn't feeling well.  

I'm grateful my sick dog is the smallest.

I don't know how I would have handled it if one of the bigger dogs had gotten Valley Fever.  Rags is my littlest fur child at 20 pounds.

This makes it easy to pick him up and put him on the kitchen counter where  I can over power him to force him to take his pills.  I am grateful he fights and fidgets instead of bites.  Size isn't as much of an issue with sharp teeth.

His size makes it possible for me to carry him up the stairs when he doesn't have the energy.  Or to carry him part way around the retention basin when he wants to come, but can't quite make it.

And because he is small, I can stick globs of peanut butter in his mouth to give him some protein on the days when he won't eat.  He's lost 3 of 21 pounds in 2 weeks.  That's almost 15% of his body weight. 

This morning was another not eating day.  I was able to force feed him some liquid food with a syringe.  It was messy.  I don't hold him so tightly that I hurt him.  But I did get some food into him.  Onto him, onto the counter, onto me.

If it had been either the 40 or 70 pound dog that got sick and they resisted as Rags has, I don't think I would come out the victor.