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Yesterday was truly harrowing.
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I imagined all kinds of horrors before bringing my older-than-old dog, Tina to the vet.
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(I say, "older than old" because it is not certain exactly how old Tina is. When rescued from Animal Care and Control in 1997 [where she was due to be put down due to Kennel Cough], the shelter indicated Tina to be "5 years-old" -- which would make her 21-years-old now. But, I think Tina was only around 2 at the time, which would make her 18-years-old now. In any event, she's "old.")
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A few days earlier, Tina had taken a tumble on a few stairs in my building and acted as though the short fall had broken every bone in her body. Each step was torment! A walk up the block might as well have been to ends of the earth!
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And so, it was inevitable that I would need to take Tina to my vet as attempts to carry her up or down the stairs were met with piercing shrieks of the most diabolical tortures.
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Surely, something was seriously wrong with Tina! Surely, my baby, "Teena Weena" was dying!
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Tina has a couple of small lumps on her. One on the side of her foot and another on her back. Surely, they are cancer! I thought. What kind of mommy was I not to address these cancers sooner?
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Guilt, fear and dread totally engulfed yesterday as I contemplated possible demise of my beloved, indestructible and immortal Tina.
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The appointment at the vet was for 7:15 at night. But, that meant an entire day of self-recriminations, mulling over possible scenarios and dread of decision.
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When Tina finally appeared to be resting, I went online to try and lose myself in the news of the day and blog writing.
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But, the haunting thoughts just kept puncturing and intruding.
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You can't let her suffer the torments of the damned. You know how Tina panics at the mere thought of a bath! Remember the time you tried to put a Santa hat on her and Tina nearly ran burst through the wall in sheer terror?
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But, surely, I could not live without Tina! She and Puppy Boy (my 16-year-old Pomeranian) have been my left and right arms over recent years. Indeed, I practically trip over both dogs anytime getting up from a chair or out of bed.
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All manners of diversion finally failed, the clock neared the dreaded hour and I had to prepare.
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But, I didn't think Tina would be able to walk the five blocks to my vet. I fancied taking a cab.
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But, what if no cab stops for me and my disabled 24-pound dog?
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By the time, we finally left the building, it is not clear who was the greater "basket case." My dog, Tina or me.
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Surprisingly though, I did not have to do battle with NYC taxi cabs.
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Tina "bravely" walked the five blocks to the vet with me. It was slow going, but going, nonetheless.
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Of course, one is rarely seen immediately when bringing a cat or dog to the vet.
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Tina and I took our place in a crowded waiting room and it was about that time, I began to experience a crushing migraine.
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It felt like someone taking an ax to the right side of my head.
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Tina, meanwhile, acted as though nothing was wrong and curiously checked out other dogs. Tina generally is OK in waiting rooms -- that is, until she actually gets to the vet.
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I sat stone-faced, with hand massaging the right side of my temple and unable to engage with anyone. All manner of horrifying scenarios still whirling inside my head -- along with the ax -- I wanted to be anyplace else on earth.
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A woman sitting beside me with two constantly yapping and barking West Highland Terriers didn't help matters. What else can go wrong? I wondered. Meanwhile, Tina was fine with it all. It was I who was truly suffering and needed some kind of emergency care.
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Finally, after what seemed an eternity, we were called.
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Dr. G. smiled and warmly greeted when Tina and I entered the small examination room.
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But, apparently remembering Tina from past visits, he called in two young vet assistants.
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After explaining why we were there, Dr. G quipped, "OK, let's get Tina on the table and see what's going on with her."
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It is certain the ear-splitting shrieks from Tina were probably heard in every corner of the globe. And yes, it did require the two vet techs and myself to finally wrestle Tina on the table.
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"She's got a lot of fight for an old dog!" Dr. G remarked and then advised the vet techs to get a muzzle on Tina.
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That was another struggle that took nearly five minutes. Tina's shrieks of "MURDER --HELP!!" only subsiding when the muzzle was finally secured.
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One imagines the woman with the two yapping Westies in the waiting room even having to put hands over her ears.
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Though unable to scream and protest anymore through the muzzle, Tina continued to squirm, wiggle and "fight" throughout the entire exam while the vet techs and I valiantly used all our strength to hold her down.
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Dr, G. carefully examined, mouth, ears, temperature, heart and entire body for any signs of serious illness or growths.
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I pointed out the two small growths on Tina's leg and back, convinced they were cancer.
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"How long has she had them?" Dr. G asked. "Have they grown or changed?"
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"A long time and no to the second question," I answered.
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"They are probably benign cysts," Dr. G replied. "We could biopsy, but that would mean putting a needle in her and pulling out cells."
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Considering that Tina was near cardiac arrest on the examination table from sheer obstinacies and protest, both my vet and I nixed that idea. Just the thought of Tina and needles was completely unfathomable and likely to result in death due to panic attack.
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Finally, the examination completed and all of us totally worn out, Dr. G was unable to find anything seriously wrong with Tina though he noted a "mild, high pitched heart murmur."
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Seems none of us were surprised by that.
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He sent us home with a bottle of "Metacam," a non-steroid, anti-inflammatory drug that is supposed to be helpful to older dogs experiencing the pains of orthro-arthritis, even though Tina wasn't presenting with actual arthritis disease.
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"This should help Tina, but if it doesn't or she suffers any side effects, stop immediately and bring her back," Dr. G advised -- though the "bring her back" sounded a bit forced and reluctant.
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Somehow, when Tina and I finally left the exam room, I felt like dancing!
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The headache completely gone, I was on top of the world and even joked with the people in the waiting room -- including the woman with the two, yappy Westies!
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"I hope Dr. G still has some energy to deal with your dogs. He's kind of been put through the wringer with Tina."
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True to Dr. G's prediction, Tina did indeed, "sleep very well" last night. (It had after all, been a harrowing and horribly traumatic day for her and myself.)
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But, I was so relieved and so happy to just have her there alongside her and my beloved Puppy Boy -- as always.
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Sure, Tina, may be obstinate, uncooperative and the ultimate "drama queen" (unfortunately, not too unlike her caregiver). But, she is mine, I love her and Tina will live forever!
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And Tina never has to worry about wearing a Santa hat again! (Not that she did, the first time.) -- PCA
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