Post TPLO Surgery
So just after five, Nat and I went to the vet clinic to pick up Bar following his surgery.
Sometimes I am glad to be blind because there are some sites not worth seeing in my book, one of which would definitely have been Bar trying to inch his way down the hallway on three legs, a tech behind him holding his back end up with a sling.
It was obvious that he did not want to move at all, nevermind having to stagger down the hallway half drugged out of his mind, and it must’ve taken a minute for him to cover the 20 feet or so between us.
Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night, having know clue on earth where you are or how you got wherever you are? This is what I pictured going on in Bar’s little mind, as he peered out from his E-collar which he will remain wearing for a week to prevent him from licking his incision.
Forlorn is a word I would use to describe him, as he inched his way, whining as he went out the hospital door and out into the big bad world.
We tried to aim him towards a spot of grass so he could go the the bathroom, but he would not move, and stood crying his little heart out so we decided to abort that little mission and inched our way to the car.
We had bought a ramp for him so he could walk up it but he balked at first site of it so the vet techs lifted him into the car and we helped him lie down.
Upon arriving home, I lifted him out of the car, one arm under his abdomin and the other under his chest and carried him down to my apartment where he currently lies on his bed, whining.
Honestly I had no idea that day one would be this bad, but from what I’ve been told this is totally normal and there should be marked improvement in the very near future.