Yesterday sucked.
Our Bean has been limping for a while now. She has been reluctant to put weight on her back right leg. At times it has been hardly noticeable, but in the past two months, it has gotten worse. She had been evaluated by her vet, who is wonderful, but none of the standard tests revealed anything. So we were referred to a veterinary surgical practice in Cary. We had an appointment with them for an evaluation on Friday, the 13th of April. However, on Tuesday night, Bean came hopping into the office on three legs, refusing to put any weight on her hurt leg at all.
It was such a sad, pitiful sight to see her crippled like that. It just broke my heart to think that she might be in that much pain, and be unable to tell us about it. And to think that if we did nothing, she might be crippled for the rest of her years....I burst into tears, and called the surgeons first thing Wednesday morning, wanting her to be evaluated that day.
It was a cold, rainy day here in Durham. I strapped Bean into her seat belt in the front seat of my car, threw her x-rays from her regular vet in the back seat, and we set off for our 2:00 appointment at about 1:15. I don't know Cary that well, and don't like driving in the rain, so I gave us a little extra time.
I don't think that bean has ever ridden in a car in the rain before. We learned something new. She really, really hates windshield wipers. At first, she would give a little start and a jump every time they swished by. She was so scared of them, she was shaking in her seat. Eventually, she realized she could just look out the side window:
We pulled into the parking lot of the clinic at 2:03. It was a large building, with a lot of other veterinary specialty offices in it, and it wasn't obvious from the outside whether the surgical practice was in there as well. So I decided to leave Bean in the car while I ran in to confirm that we were in the right place. Turns out we were. I told them that we were here and I would be right back with the patient. I ran back out to the car to get Bean and the x-rays, and that's when I realized it.
I had locked my keys and my Bean in the car.
I was pretty close to tears at this point. I ran back into the clinic and called a locksmith, who said they could be there in "thirty minutes or less." I gave the dispatcher the address. Now, there are only about ten parking spaces in front of the building, so I didn't think that she would need
that much info to tell the locksmith which car was mine. But she wanted to know it all, so I said, as calmly as I could,
"Oh, Okay, it's a white Toyota Camry, two doors, a '94, and let me see... oh yeah.....
There's a giant F%*ING RED DOG in the FRONT SEAT!!!!!!!!!!!"
To which, the lady on the phone asked, I swear to God, "Ummmm, kay.....and what's the license plate number?"
After I get off the phone with that woman, I take a position outside where I can see Bean but she can't see me. I know it will only make her more upset and confused if she sees me but I don't come let her out. All I can think is how thirsty she must be. It was a long drive and I had the heat on, and I noticed she was thirsty on the drive over. I just know that she is locked in there and scared and thirsty and possibly in pain and looking for her mommy to come rescue her.
By now I am crying like a baby.
At 2:23 I call the locksmith again. The dispatcher says she will radio the driver and see where he is. He calls me on my cellphone about 3 minutes later. He is at the corner down the street, but doesn't know which way to turn from there. Neither do I, so I give the phone to the receptionist inside the clinic, and she cheerfully directs him to the parking lot.
I rush out to meet him. He approaches the car, takes one look at Bean, and tells me he won't unlock it. "WHAT????" I ask. Apparently, he believes that if he unlocks the door, Bean (the vicious pit bull who is presently wagging her tail and licking the car window) will get out of her seat belt, open the door, leap out and bite his jugular vein. Seriously.
I offer him more money. No dice. "That would be against company policy." At this point I am really about to lose it, and I think he can tell too. In the end, he decided he was more scared of me than of Bean, and he unlocked the door and jumped back into the safety of his truck. I walked Bean and her x-rays into the clinic, them came back out to pay the man. I had to give him my license to prove I was the owner of the car. It's an old photo of me in the license. He looks at me, standing there in rain, crying, clutching my purse and says:
"You know, you looked much better with longer hair"
Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh, well you know what asshole? FUUUUUUUCKKKKKK YOUUUUUUUUUU!!!!
Back in the clinic, we meet the wonderful Dr. Clarke. He is the kind of doctor I want to be someday. He took all the time in the world explaining the problem and what our options were. Basically Bean definitely has one problem, and possibly two.
The first one that we know she has is a luxated (displaced) patella. This means that her knee cap has a tendency to pop out of it's groove now and then. This is probably due to the fact that she has very very powerful quad muscles and is bow-legged. They can surgically deepen the groove in the bone to help it stay in place and do a few other nifty tricks to fix this problem.
The second one he suspects might be an issue is a torn ACL. Again, this is probably exacerbated by her size and bow-legged-ness. This can't show up on X-ray, and he saw only slight signs of it on physical exam. This is more of a "We'll know more once we're in there" kind of problem.
One option would be to do the surgery for the patella, and then while he's in there, repair a torn ACL if he sees one.
He said another option would be to wait a month and see if one or the other diagnoses became so pronounced as to pinpoint itself as the reason for her lameness. Then we would know which problem needed addressing first.
Either way we are looking at 6-8 weeks of rehabilitation where Bean must be confined to a space no more than 3 times her body length 24 hours a day, with leashed bathroom breaks three times a day. Anyone who has ever met Bean will understand what I meant when I said "Well, you're going to have to sedate either her or me for that to work." He laughed, and said that he will sedate the crap out of her. I actually made him promise.
"What's your decision?" he asked.
"Let's do it. Let's do the surgery."
"When is good for you?"
"Your next available"
"How's Monday?"
"We'll take it."
He shook my hand, said he admired my decisiveness, and sent me out to the front desk, where the lady very cheerfully explained that even if there is not ACL involvement, and only the patella needs to be fixed, the surgery will cost around
fourteen HUNDRED dollars.I walk out in a daze. We were a sad, sad pair on the drive home. I am crying, and Bean is trying to lay her head in my lap and fall asleep. I called Bryan on his cell phone. He had puked at school and was coming home early. Just a wonderful day for us all. I told him the situation. "We'll do whatever we have to do. She's our baby Bean." I love him so much sometimes, it just makes me cry harder, you know.
But the thing is, I don't know what we're going to do. I am a medical student who is currently on medical leave, so my even my negative income (loans) is gone. Bryan is a public school teacher, who doesn't get paid in the summers. Our savings are almost gone. I'm really scared.
And so I am asking all of our family and friends and our friends in the Internet to help us if they can. Bean shouldn't have to suffer just because I suck and can't get a job, and her dad has decided to work in public service. I have set up a dropcash fundraising account (funds collected through paypal, but you don't need a paypal account to give) and I am begging you all to give a little bit each. If everyone who ever read this blog would give $5, we could do this. There is a link to the campaign on the top left corner of this page, and a bar to track it's progress. I have rescheduled the surgery for the 3rd of May, and Bean will be on pain killers and joint protective supplements in the meantime.
Please help us. We would do the same for you. And you will have Bean's love for the rest of her pain-free life.
What a crappy day, huh mom?
How could you leave me all alone and afraid? How?! Don't you know what that will do to my sense of security? You DO want me to grow up to be well-adjusted doggie, without "issues", don't you?
