I don’t know why, but it seems like every year, around Christmas, veterinary hospitals end up with more sad cases than any other time. Combine that with cranky shoppers, over-commercialization, and the malls playing Christmas carols two days after Halloween, and it’s pretty easy for a veterinary-type person to get a pretty bad attitude about the holidays.
I’m no exception. Ever since I had a boss who insisted on playing the “Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas” tape (versions one AND two) endlessly beginning the day after thanksgiving, I just haven’t had the stomach for Christmas music anymore. And as I mentioned above, we seem to have a lot of sad cases around the holidays.
I honestly thought Petey was going to be one of those cases. Petey is a seven year-old Labrador Retriever who snuck past his dad Raymond at the front door and ran away. Now Petey and his owner have a very special relationship – Raymond even brought Petey over from Taiwan with him when he moved here. When I watched the two of them interact it was clear that there was something between them beyond what most dogs have with their people.
Unfortunately, Petey was hit by a car while he was out, and he suffered severe internal injuries. We gave Raymond a grave prognosis for his dog when he brought him in, but he told us he wanted to try everything. Usually when a client tells me, “do whatever you need to, money is no object,” it’s because they have no intention of ever paying us. I could tell Raymond was different, though. When I went over an estimate for the cost of treatment, he looked at me gravely and in careful English said, “If I can pay you part of this now, can I pay the rest tomorrow? I’m a musician and own several expensive guitars. I can post them on Craigslist to sell tonight.” I’m pretty thick-skinned, but I have to admit to a lump in my throat when he said that. I made sure he knew that Petey’s chances were slim, but that we’d do our best.
Due to the trauma of being hit, Petey’s abdominal cavity was full of blood from ruptured organs. We spent most of the night trying to stabilize him so we could go in surgically to repair the damage, but he just kept bleeding. Usually I have between five and seven patients to care for per shift – that night I only took one. Petey finally reached the point where, even though we knew surgery might very well kill him, it was his only chance. Our surgeon came in at four in the morning on his day off, and I prepped Petey for an abdominal exploratory. Petey did well for the first ten minutes of anesthesia, but he soon developed a progressively worsening abnormal heart rhythm. Just a minute or two later our worst fears were realized when his heart stopped.
Now, when I teach CPR to new graduates and technicians, one of the things I stress is that the real world isn’t like Grey’s Anatomy. When the underlying disease or injury is bad enough to make the patient’s heart stop, CPR rarely works for long. Dogs don’t have heart attacks. If they suffer a cardiac arrest from blood loss, they still have that blood loss even if you bring them back. Do your best, I always say, but don’t get your hopes up too much.
So I took my own advice. We jumped in with everything we had and performed aggressive CPR. Wonder of wonders, we got his heart started again. With no choice but to proceed with surgery, we re-scrubbed and got to it. I think it was one of the most stressful anesthetic cases of my career. Thank goodness our surgeon, Dr. Mison, is fast, because for the last twenty minutes of Petey’s surgery his gas anesthesia was turned off entirely, and I was just using a continuous drip of a short-acting pain medication dosed very, very carefully. Anything more would have killed him.
But it didn’t. And he survived the surgery. Raymond was overjoyed, but we had to warn him that Petey wasn’t out of the woods yet. The odds of him recovering were slim. Still, I couldn’t squash a little glimmer of hope, deep down inside. We were surprised he’d made it this far. Maybe? Just maybe?
I won’t tell you Petey made a miraculous recovery. He had a difficult, painful one. He had setbacks, and there were a couple of times we thought maybe he was done for. His dad never gave up, though, and neither did Petey. Ten days after we admitted Petey, Raymond brought him home. In one piece. Wagging his tail, and ready to take on the world.
Maybe the holidays aren’t so bad after all.
--Jon Wieringa
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Jon Wieringa is an ICU veterinary technician, a search and rescue K-9 handler, and a regular contributor to Wag Reflex.