Day 4 - Friday, August 27thToday, he is obviously feeling better. He's pawing, marking, and wagging. He wants to play with Matt and follow around the other dogs. In fact, he had to go right over to Matt when he heard him callously playing with Maya, the lab.
The bruising is also better. It may look bad, but it's so much better.
We're both adjusting so fast it's almost hard to comment on what's going on, since it's starting to feel like the new normal. My days are immersed in Castor. I take him out; I massage him; I sit with him and blog about him; I talk to people about him; I encourage him; I feed him; I give him pills (worst part!); I feel optimistic about him; and I experience swells of gratitude for those who are supporting him.
I didn't realize how much I was also being supported until Dabs and Matt both left Friday. I forced myself out of the house to go to a yoga class. I haven't been away from him since the surgery was over.
It was really good for me to get away, but by the 3rd hour, I was anxious to get home to him. It felt like 2 days. (Thanks for watching him, Matt.)
Feeling the imminent departure of Matt and Dabs' absence, when I got home, I started feeling something I haven't yet felt. I had brief moments of feeling bad for his current state. Matt just replied, "you saved him!," when I questioned what I'd done.
I know with absolute certainty that I am doing the best thing for him. Not me, but him. (They just happen to coincide right now.) Still, this is an emotional time, and my grief was probably catalyzed by hearing statistics of remission.
I do not wish to consider the survival averages at this point. I know that he has no sign of lesions in his lungs. I know that he is the same happy dog of 2 years ago. I know that he is in the best physical shape of his life. I know that everything is going the best it can be.
He demonstrates his strength and ability to adapt every moment. The best thing I can do is not only believe that he can win this battle, but envision him happy and healthy for years to come. That is what I am asking everyone to do. What can it hurt?
If I have to face something worse, I will face it then. Thankfully, I have yoga and the spirituality and tools it's given me to deal with the ground falling out beneath me.
I know the statistics. Fortunately, I also know what averages are, and he is not an average. He is an amazing creature who has always pulled up the average. Why should remission be any exception?
So, I expect the best of all outcomes. I am not going to grieve my boy. He is here with me and beautifully happy. And I will certainly not grieve his leg. It's just a leg. Humans may let that redefine them, but thankfully, dogs don't.
And Dabs was right, he's adorable hopping around. Adorable.
Right now, though he's not 100%, he's just crazy about having his favorite people around him. He gets to see his grandma and rob soon too! Then all his doggie friends soon enough.
For now, we're looking forward.