Dot's major surgery

A few weekends ago, Dot started to not feel well. She had developed some sort of lump on her lower abdomen that was very painful for her; she would yelp whenever I tried to touch her and I'd have to carry her outside to use the bathroom because she couldn't even walk.

I took her to her normal vet, who determined that it was some sort of abdominal infection, and possibly (but hopefully not) cancerous. She gave me antibiotics to give to Dot, and said to see if they helped.

Three days later, Dot had not eaten a single bite, and wouldn't move at all... the only thing she'd taken in were the antibiotics that I'd ground up and force-fed her using a medicine dropper and juice. It was a Friday afternoon, and the vet referred me to a specialist... but they couldn't see her until the following Wednesday. Seeing that the situation was pretty dire, I was able to get Dot seen that day through an emergency referral.

An ultrasound determined that she had a hernia in which part of her intestine was poking out the hole, and the circulation to it had gotten cut off. The intestine was blocked and the tissue had died. The bump on her abdomen wasn't cancer-- it was a swollen and infected bit of her intestine, blocked and with necrotic (dead) tissue. She needed surgery immediately, and went under the knife that night. They warned me there was a slim chance she wouldn't make it; but given that the alternative-- not treating her-- meant certain death, there was no question. They operated on her, which involved an "intestinal resection": they had to cut out the dead part of the intestine, and sew the two ends back together.

The next morning, I was given a 10-minute window to visit her, and drove all the way to San Mateo to do so. She was weak and dazed, and heavily sedated. She pretty obviously held me responsible for her misery! :D But she had done well in the surgery and was recovering. These pictures are from that visit, about twelve hours after her surgery.

It was another two days before she was well enough to go home; during that time, she acquired quite a reputation for snapping at pretty much everyone who came near her. I don't blame her.

During that time, Speck was VERY depressed, and wouldn't eat. He didn't know what was going on. The day she came home, he ran up to her excitedly... but she wouldn't let him come near her. Still, his mood was better now that she was back.

She was a mess of bandages and patches and compresses and a full-body wrap and a big collar. A few days later, she got the bandages removed and that boosted her spirits. Since then, she's been a little bit better every day-- she's eating again, and is regaining her old crabby spirits.

And the bill was scary. We'll see how much her insurance covers-- I'm not holding my breath. But the important thing: they saved her life, and you can't put a price on that.

Pictures of The Little Patient are below.



The pink bandage was a morphine drip.






Speck looking very sullen.





Dottie's giant scar. The white thing was a drainage tube that remained in for three days to let the wound drip. It was kind of gross. Fortunately, a dog blanket caught most of the drips because she didn't feel like moving around much.



"NO SRSLY-- YOU WANT TO PETZ ME AFTER U DONE ALL DIS?"