Taking a Step Back
Pupdate: Liv 8 weeks post TPLO
I have not written many updates about Liv for a couple of reasons. When I contemplate her situation and feel into it, it is one of the hardest things I have ever faced. I am also focused on, well…living. Pun intended.
Step back to move forward. Slow down to speed up.
I think these thoughts and say these things to try to make sense of what is happening.
It hurts me to see her struggle. She is in recovery.
The best way to move forward is to slow down. She has an injury. And I made her get surgery because I thought it was the only way forward. Now, we are eight weeks in.
Yesterday was a ruff day.
The short version is that she has four more weeks of limited activity.
The x-rays show a couple of potential complications. These are common complications that may heal or may require a surgical intervention.
One is a thickened patella tendon. The other is something to do with the rotation or stability in the joint. I don't totally understand it.
The surgeon who spoke to me on the phone and took her time said it could just be because we altered her biomechanics. She told me that the execution looked fine. Nothing was done wrong. She was satisfied with that.
Liv still is careful when she stands on it, sometimes limps, and sometimes hops to trot. I know I would still be hurting after 8 weeks if my bone were cut, rotated, and hardware installed. Still, I do not know what she is experiencing, and the guidance is confusing. Is limping normal at this time, and does she stay on medicine. And more.
So Liv has to skip her underwater treadmill therapy this week and cut back her activity. Instead of increasing her walking each week like we had been doing, I am to take her on five-minute leash walks.
This actually sounds impossible. Even though Liv is careful and limps, she still wants to go out and about. We are also adding back the doggie ibuprofen.
When I contemplate her situation. I start getting really emotional. I feel for her.
Shouldn't it be enough that we are alive? And on top of it that we can walk around.
No. I mean, it is hard. It is like Liv lost something. Did I do this to her?
I thought I was doing what was best for her. I did not realize this would be such a long, hard recovery. The girl is doing wonderfully at putting up with it. She really is a wonderfully good sport about it all. All we can do is our best. It does not help to wonder if I could have done better or think I did the wrong thing for her. I am doing my best.
Yesterday was hard. It was hard to hear the news. It was hard to see Liv sedated and struggling to move.
And today has been a good day.
She greeted the neighborhood puppy, Jack, the 9-month-old German Shepherd. Liv tried to break out into zoomies, but I stopped her. It was just good to see her excited. This afternoon on her too-short walk, she started smiling, which she has not been doing. These days she usually walks with her lips pursed, focused, and nose to the ground. I think the doggie ibuprofen may be helping. Right now, she is stretched across the sofa as I write, and dog hair keeps covering the keyboard. I keep removing it. And I try to wrap it up because she does not love the clacking of keys. I would not have it any other way.
We are living the dream.
Heart in my throat as I read. Feeling for you and Liv as you manage the challenges of having bodies and loving each other so much and so well ❤️