It’s been 11 days since Marco’s surgery and I’m happy to report that it was a success.
He’s officially 14-years-old and recovering like a champ.
I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I am. Pleasantly.
I was a little let down that the tumor, as big as it was, only weighed four pounds. I had the number 15 in my head, but I suppose it wasn’t as dense as a kettlebell.
It put perspective on the ratio of fat mass to weight for me. The good news is that it was four pounds. That means I only have a good 20 to lose, not 75. Even still, that will take more than a scalpel, anesthesia, thread, and a free afternoon. I digress. Marco’s tumor is gone and I simply need to do more cardio. Dammit.
Removing the tumor was the main procedure. He also had two small cysts removed. One was near his eye and the other was lodged between two toes on his back paw. The toes had to be sewn together upon removal. Yes, this puppy has lumps for days.
You should have seen Denver. We actually called him Lumpy.
We picked Marco up the day after surgery and the poor thing looked messier than I ever have.
He had a discharge drain coming out of his main wound which was held together by what looked like a 7-inch stitched zipper. His eye had stitches and his back paw was in a cast. You could hear his odd clomp well before you could see him.
After what had to be a confusing 30 hours, he had an infectious amount of anxiety. All I could think about was how the medication better calm this old dog down.
The vet reviewed the important stuff – empty the drain, apply compresses, medication, restrict movement, and constant monitoring. They lost me at ‘confine him to a small space.’
“The pain meds will make him sleep, right?” I asked.
“They should.”
No problem.
Of course, they gave us one of those lampshade cones. Does anyone really use those? I used one, one time, with Denver. I’m not sure that even qualifies as use. I’ve held planks longer than that thing stayed on.
Some breeds might do alright with cones. Not Weimaraners.
Back at the Pad – The first night back was a breeze! Either Marco was high or simply tired from being stressed. Bottom line, he slept.
The next morning, Marco’s drain tube disconnected. I only emptied it three times before it slid out. Within 24 hours, Marco was back at the hospital. No, the cone wouldn’t have helped.
Turns out, they couldn’t replace the drain without cutting him open again so they left it out and it was no big deal.
I slept with Marco on the couch for the next week. He’s a cuddle freak.
He was on a cycle. Food, pills, randomly walking around, and sleeping. Occasional potty break. Repeat. Perfect. And, he likes the same shows I do. Imagine that. Soulmates.
Tomorrow he gets all his stitches out and the cast removed. That’s good because I’m running out of wool socks to muffle the noise.
If my math is right, he’s almost 100. 12 years is the average life expectancy of a Weimaraner. Denver was 12. Marco is a trooper.
I’m not sure he knows what happened, but he looks more comfortable. I believe we made the right decision.
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