Fate, Continued

Fate, Continued

    After three days and nights, our dog is back.  For those of you who chanced to read the last post, you'll know that our dog had quite the run-in with infection, a simple tumor (benign) removal leading to an opening of stitches then an infection then re-stitching then another infection further down the joint and her skin turning necrotic (promise, I won't show any additional photos because while the tennis-ball-sized open wound is apparently getting better say the vets, to view it or see a photo of how it looks today might turn even the strongest of stomachs).  The vet released her to our care, but it came with a few caveats.  Basically, what they were doing there at the animal hospital was now something she felt that we could do at home, especially with the switch from her being given intravenous feeds of medicine to oral versions (our dog was on an i.v. of fentanyl, that highly potent narcotic which has made it way through human illicit drug use on the street -- now apparently replaced with a horse tranquilizier-- but none of that came home with us so no worries there).  But wait, as it would turn out, this was rather like releasing a dangerous prisoner into our care, you know, those movie scenes where a guard stands watch outside the hospital door 24/7?

    So a few things had to happen before she arrived home; for one we had to get a bunch of used sheets and pads and comforters since she was expected to drip and ooze (sorry) from her infection.  Off to the thrift store where such baby donations (diaper changing pads, baby blankets, mismatched sheets and such, many of them new or barely used) loaded my cart for a grand total of $20.  Washed and dried, the bedding was now set-up and ready.  Then came the loading up of gauze, saline solution (remember, no hydrogen peroxide), and eventually paper towels...even a ramp to avoid having her possibly tear open her wound further entering and exiting the car, or going out to the yard once at home.  We were ready...all we needed were the earpieces with coiled wires, the walkie talkie (do they still call it that these days) and the dark sunglasses.  Check, check and check.  I make light of the subject but even with bringing an injured spouse or relative home, your life soon shifts into a coffee table loaded with magazines and books, phones and tablets nearby, all while you keep constant watch over your loved one, seeing them rest and hopefully begin to regain strength and health.  The cleaning of the area around the wound now became a ritual, wet and dry wipes flushed with saline, us being careful not to actually touch or go near the wound itself; this was almost a scene from the early series MASH, and indeed our dog's wound did look a bit like a gunshot or shrapnel wound.  How does one patch up such a large open area?  Both vets felt that leaving the would open to air was the best option, to let the wound heal from the inside out, to let the dead and dying skin act as its own protective cover; what would happen in the future would be determined at a later date...if our dog got through this.

    On a side note, my dealings with the homeless allows me to talk to many old-timers, one of whom (she runs the place where I donate supplies and food) told me of her early ranching years, of how horses would appear with similar wounds, knees blown open from a tear on a barbed-wire fence or a bite from an animal.  Showing her a picture of our dog's gross wound was nothing to her; to sound even more gross, she said, what she would do with such wounds back then was to let the flies land on the wound and lay their eggs so that the resulting maggots would devour the dead skin (they don't eat the live skin, only the dead and dying flesh).  You could just sit and watch the wound slowly close up, she told me.  The Laguna Honda hospital in San Francisco used to use the same method, even placing cots close together and leaving the windows open for fresh air (despite a steller healing record, this was all stopped by county health inspectors in later years)...Dr. Sweet how worked there tells about her time at this last remaining almshouse ("alms for the poor") and its practices, which I summarized in an earlier post.  It gives one pause, some of these old methods (early usage of honey was used strictly as an external balm for healing wounds and was not given internally)...but despite letting my dog have a nice snooze in the sun, I had doubts that my vet would approve of this maggot therapy.

    So, those of you having already done this or about to do this or avoiding any of this, the constant cleaning of such "drainage" is not something for the timid both in appearance and in smell.  But consider that neither is the 24/7 care of cleaning up those in a care home or a hospital.  Someone has to do it, and hats off to all of those who rarely get recognized for doing so, for keeping a person or animal healthy or healthier simply by keeping infection at bay with constant cleaning and changing of bandages or diapers or whatever.  And now three days later, our dog's drainage is slowing.  She is eating and pooping like normal (a bit of a gas bomb from her while we were watching television was never so welcome as if a signal to us that she was indeed on the road to recovery), and even wants to go on a walk (which is banned until she is healed).  We've done a lot of wash, and have gone through a lot a gauze and paper towels and saline; but the result has been (so far) our dog coming back to life, her eyes bright and her even giving an occasional bark when she hears a noise.  The wound is no less gross to view, but it seems that we as "parents" are far more bothered by it than our dog is.  And after all of this, I am constantly reminded of people with far more on their plate, one friend dealing with a very difficult family decision.  Others I know are watching and wondering if their family member or animal will ever bounce back, while others are in shock at the unexpected loss of such a member (we saw it almost hourly at the vet hospital).  Life hands us surprises, some pleasant and some not so much...but how we deal with them is another matter altogether.  And did I mention that at 4:30 in the morning on the night of our return, our other dog got sprayed full-on in the face by a skunk?  And that my router for my computer went out (re-connecting the router extender took an hour).  It's said that things come in threes, but those other events --the dog being sprayed and my internet going out-- now are almost laughable...but that's an entirely different story, a story best left to fate.