open-toed splint

I’d like to write a little about my splint. The splint has been off for a few months, but I’d like to write a little about it, and to show a picture of it up close.

First, this is a soft cast splint. It has a little more flexibility and is more comfortable to wear than a hard cast.

The splint was a very important part of my recovery, and so were the instructions about how to care for my splint.

The doctors left the toe open for several very important reasons. First, it allowed air to circulate. Second, it allowed my parents to look for signs of infection.  The doctors tell my parents that if they see my toes are inflamed, they know to get me to the doctor right away.

Another important part of the instructions is to notice if there is a bad odor. That is another sign of infection.  If my parents notice a bad odor, they know to get me to the doctor right away.

Finally, my parents are always looking at me to see if my bandages are wet. If they are wet, they have to bring me to the veterinarian right away.  Wet bandages is not a good thing. And this is another reason why I must wear the bootie or the plastic bag every time I go out, even if just for a moment.

Doctors are very concerned about my developing an infection.  I’ll just be a dog and do what I do, but my parents will be responsible for noticing all the signs of infection.

In the days and weeks immediately following my being hit by the car, my doctor wanted to change my bandages every 2 – 5 days. After that, after the sores were healed, he instructed my parents to bring me in for a bandage change every two weeks.

To find out whether I cooperated with my doctors’ good ideas, please continue reading!

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You probably don’t think it’s a big thing but I had my first bath in almost four months!

First I go into the shower and I stay.

My parents followed the doctor’s instructions exactly: Dr. T had told my parents not to get me wet for one week after my bandages were removed so that my wounds could dry out.

One week to the day my mom looked at the wound, saw it was dry, and said, “Joey, come” and I followed her upstairs.  I didn’t know what her plans were. We got into the bedroom and she headed to the bathroom and said “Joey, come” and I followed her. Then she pointed to the shower and said “Go” and I just walked right in.  It was this unusual room for me, sunny at the top because there are glass windows at the top, but narrow.  I had to get accustomed to this little room.  Then my mom said “Sit” and I sat down. Then she took my collar off.

She sprayed the water gently on my back and sides with something she was holding in her hand, and the water felt warm. It was okay. Then she started with the shampoo.  Next, she started rubbing me and saying “Good boy” and using a little rubber brush occasionally. Then she said “Up Up Up” and that’s the signal for me to stand. So I stand.

The hardest part was the “Turn around” part. I don’t know what she means by “Turn around”. Usually when she says “Turn around” I stand there and look at her and then she grabs my whole body and swings it around.  Then she sprays more water on me and more shampoo on me and rubs me gently and then with the brush. She does my head last. Then she says again “Joey, turn around”. I really don’t know what she’s asking me to do but when she grabs me and moves me I think I get the idea. Maybe.

My rubber duckie takes a shower with me

After a while, she just pours me with a lot of warm water.  This time she said “Stay” and used her hand signal too and looked me in the eye to make sure I got it.  Then she left me there while she got towels.  I like that part because I like the part where I get dry.  At this point I get a lot of “good dogs”. I know she likes to dry me with the towel but I like to rub my head against the floor and carpets and anything soft I can find. Then I like to rub my body along the floor and the carpets and anything soft I can find.

drying myself off naturally after a shower

After that, she brought me downstairs for Dad to see. He was very proud of me and I was proud of myself and happy too.

Then Jane took the hairdryer and dried me off.

Then the best part: She put the lead on me and we went outside and sat in the nice warm hot sun for a long long time. Then it got even better: She took the lead off of me and I got to walk around in the garden and just find a nice hot spot in the sun.

I’m not so crazy about taking showers but the reward is great!

Now please go to Part 2 of 2.

One of my new friends was Evan. Here you can see Evan and me, as I was about to leave the hospital. Even has a mixed Labrador Retriever puppy. He said that he hopes his Lab will grow up to be as strong and healthy as me. Wow, that’s quite a compliment!

The air at Angell energizes and excites me. When I was leaving, I saw a lot of people who made me happy, and I let them know that by wagging my tail. I think that people really like it when dogs are friendly to them.  When I go to this hospital, people who pass by me, or who I pass by, say “Good boy” and “He’s a beautiful dog” and “He’s so friendly.”  I don’t understand “boy” or “beautiful” or “friendly” but I do know that people are saying the nicest things!

Outside of the hospital, I jumped into the back seat of my parents’ car, they jumped into the front seats, and we drove off.  Suddenly I started to feel really tired.  My dad opened the back window so I could get some fresh air. That was nice. But still, I felt very slow, very low on energy.   At some point the car stopped and Jane got out of her seat and ran around the car to the back and got into the back seat with me, and petted my head, and kept saying, very softly, “Good boy. Good boy, Joey.”  She said, “We’re going home!” I felt so knocked out and barely heard the word “home” but I do know that I was with my parents, and that was just fine with me.  Jane scratched me under my ears, and in between my eyes,  some of my favorite places. It was so pleasant that I kept dozing off.

Maybe my being so groggy was a good thing. When we got home, Jane walked me into the house with the lead on, and then she took the lead off of me. Freedom rang and I was able to walk around the dining room and the living room and the kitchen on my own.  I was able to drink my water right in the kitchen, in its old place.  Life had the ring of familiarity to it.

Then familiarity overcame me and I made for the door to the basement and nudged it open with my nose, and started down the steps to the basement and…I was on the first step when suddenly “Joey, NO!” rang out like thunder.  I don’t know what the big deal was, but next thing I knew the lead was attached to my collar and Jane was walking me down the stairs, on the lead, one step at a time. Might this have had something to do with the “instructions”?  Frankly, I was too tired to care.

Jane brought my bed down into the basement, where I made myself right at home.  It was nice to be home, nice to be able to walk up and down stairs, even with the lead attached, nice to be in the basement with my parents, and nice to be able to fall sound asleep in my own bed.

I don’t have much appetite today, but I’m feeling stronger.  My leg is feeling better because the splint that Dr. M made for my leg yesterday (see “mango”) doesn’t go up as high as my first splint. This one covers my toes and ankle, but it stops below my knee. This gives me greater freedom of movement and is cooler.

At the same time, there is not much to do today.  Somebody came to the house earlier today and I was hoping to make a new friend and thus had a good time barking, but then Jane politely but firmly told me to “Go to your bed” and so I did.  I’m still not allowed to get too excited because when I get excited I jump up (maybe on the gate that separates the living room from the hall) and this puts pressure on my toes and ankle, which need to heal.

The shades are also still drawn because when the shades are up, I can see the people and their dogs passing by and this too gets me excited, in the hopes that I’ll make new friends. I like to make friends, but my parents have other ideas for me these days.

The instructions for tomorrow’s surgery that Dr. M gave to Jane said that I’m not allowed to eat after 8 pm tonight but that I can drink water until midnight.  That’s okay with me.   I don’t have much of an appetite anyway, though I think they want me to eat an early dinner so that I can get all my medications in before 8 pm.   Don’t ask me; I’m just following those who are following doctor’s orders.

Oops…Have to go!  Here comes Jane with the chicken broth to pour on my dry food so that I’ll want to eat.  Life is full of blessings!

Today is going to be a great day for me. I have an appointment with my doctor, Dr. B, one of my best friends. The “Instructions” said to bring me there within 7 to 10 days of my going home, and this is Day 9. Perfect.

I don’t really care why I have to go there; for me it is a wonderful thing because I get to go outside for a little bit. I also don’t have to wear the collar while I am in the car. Maybe Jane will open the car window while she’s driving and I’ll feel the fresh air blow on my face and be able to sniff at all the lovely scents of animal life that are in the air.

My parents are saying something about taking out the stitches and staples that are in my belly. I wonder if that means that I will not have to wear the cone any longer. While I am there, Dr. B is going to look at my leg and tell me if he thinks it’s getting better. Then he is going to put on new bandages.

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At the hospital, Dr. B lets me walk longer distances, which is a lot of fun, though I’m still on the leash. There are so many other dogs and cats there; I am unaware of who is big and who is little; I am aware of males and females. Some dogs are on leads like I am, some are in carriers.  There is one dog who has three legs and he is hopping around, as happy as he can be.  I find the whole experience of being in the hospital wonderful. All of these dogs could be my friend!  My nose and eyes and ears are always busy! My tail is wagging continuously and my ears are alert.  Lots of dogs, including me, are marking the walls and posts in order to say, to each other, in our own language,”I am here!”

Each time that I go to the hospital, the doctors want to know how much I weigh, whether I’ve gained or lost weight. Dr. B needs to know so he can figure out how much medicine I should be taking. I’ve lost some weight since I was wounded.  Before I was hit by the car, I was a strong 80 pounds. Here in this weighing in I’m down to 74 pounds.  Jane says that that’s because I am not running, and Dr. B agrees with her:  Phil and I have not gone jogging together for two weeks now.   I really don’t care about my weight, but I do care that my ankle and toes heal correctly and that I will be able to run again.

What bothers me the most about being wounded is having this cone around my head. Dr. B calls it a collar but I think he’s just being kind.  The “instructions” call it an “Elizabethan collar”. Do I look like my name is Elizabeth?

I don’t understand why I have to have this cone, or collar, around my neck and head. When I walk, it bumps into things. When I eat, it bumps into my food bowl. When I drink, it bumps into my water bowl. I even have to wear it when I sleep.  So why am I wearing it?

I hear my mom and dad are doing it to protect me because I have stitches on my stomach and some medicinal cream on my belly from where my belly scraped along the ground.  The idea is that this cone is supposed to prevent me from licking my wounds, and licking off the medicinal cream, or possibly even to prevent me from biting at the stitches.  My doctors want the stitches and my belly to heal properly.

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A few days ago the FedEx truck pulled up to our home and the man delivered a large carton to my owners. I love when we receive package deliveries, because the delivery men can become my friends, too. But this delivery was different.

First, I wasn’t allowed out of the living room to greet or even see the delivery man. This was a huge frustration to me.

Then, Jane brought the large carton into our home and took out out something made of wood. Next,  she got a screw driver and started working. And working. I wanted to play with her, but she kept working. In addition, I thought she had bought me a new toy, and I let her know that by wagging my tail. But this wasn’t a toy for me.

About one hour later, there was a little wooden gate set up in the doorway to the living room that was too high for me to jump over. I couldn’t push it away, or figure out a way to open its little door. This was a huge frustration for me. I think this time they were too smart for me.

Spending all this time in the living room has, I think, something to do with following “the doctor’s orders”. This spacial limitation is the hardest part about recuperating.

The instructions also tell the distance and way that I am allowed to walk every day.

The way I am walked is a difficult adjustment. Even though I was wounded just a short while ago, I continue to want to run around outside and make friends with the whole, wide, wonderful world; nevertheless, because my dad and mom are following “instructions”, they won’t let me do that anymore.

As I mentioned before, I love to run, and before the accident I would run with my dad early every morning, sometimes in the dark before the sun had even risen. Because we would run so early in the morning way before the first faint lights of neighbors awakening going on, one room at a time, when there aren’t any other dogs or people around, he would allow me to run with without a leash. At those times, I would fly like the wind, with my nose up high, in step with my dad!

Now, we go outside, Dad and I, or sometimes my Mom and I, and sometimes Dad, Mom and I together walk me up the block and back home again, on my lead at all times, and then I have to go back inside.  As soon as I poop, we turn around and go back home.  I wish we could stay out longer, but they’re following the doctor’s orders.

I even have to be on my lead when we go into the back yard because they’re afraid that I’m going to chase squirrels or something. Would I do a thing like that? Absolutely! They know that chasing squirrels is one of my hobbies.  After all, Labrador Retrievers were bred to retrieve small animals such as birds and squirrels that had been hunted for game and for food.  Running after small animals is in our nature.

Sometimes Dad wants me to walk free; at those times, Mom will say to Dad that “We have to follow the doctor’s orders”. Then she says to him, “You want him to be able to run again, right?” She knows that my three toes and my broken ankle need a lot of time to heal, and to heal correctly.   When she says that, I feel alright, because, honestly, I do want to be able to run again. And so does Phil!

In this photo you can get a sense my occasional frustration.

But I’m not complaining!

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Now I’m back home. I’m recuperating. My owners read something called “the instructions” and as far as I can tell, this is something that Dr. B gave them when I was being discharged from the hospital.

The “instructions” rest on the kitchen counter, next to a brown bag that they also brought home from the 24-hour animal hospital. These “instructions” talk about what kinds of medicines I have to take, and when, each day, I have to take them.

For example, every morning my owners give me some medicine, and every evening they give me medicine again. I don’t mind taking the medicine, because “the instructions” say to “Always give after a meal” and that’s fine with me, because I have an opportunity to do another of my hobbies, which is eating.

Jane and Phil talk to each other a lot about these “meds”. I hear Jane saying to Phil, “Did you give Joey his meds this morning?” Or I will hear Phil saying to Jane, “I didn’t feed Joey this morning. Can you give him breakfast and then give him his meds?” I hear my name mentioned a lot these days.  Joey…Joey….Joey…..If you want to see my ears perk right up, just say my name.

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In the hospital, I had my own emergency care doctor, Dr. B. I also had my own dentist! Boy, I felt special. Everybody loved me, and I loved them.

When I was in the Critical Care Unit, lots of people were congratulating Dr. B on what a wonderful patient he had. He took pride in having me as his patient.

Many people worry about the care their pets will get.  My emergency care doctor is nice, and smart, and really cares about his patients, and this is why he and I get along so well. He’s a really busy guy with, unfortunately, lots of animal emergencies, but we managed to get him to stand still long enough for the photo to be taken.

Thanks, Dr. B. I owe you a lot!

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However, now I have three broken toes and an ankle that is broken in numerous places. I have also lost three teeth. My leg is in a splint and I am not allowed to leave our living room or walk around our home.

In this photo, you can see a few bald spots in my coat, where I was shaved. I’ll tell you more about those later, too.

The purpose of the splint is so that my toes and ankle will heal properly. It keeps them in a proper position and protects them from being touched or knocked.  I am not allowed to leave our living room or walk around our home and must keep my movement to a minimum. Everybody wants my toes and ankle to heal properly so that I can run again. I love to run with Phil. Running with Phil is also one of my hobbies and joys in life.

In this picture, you see bright red bandages. But I don’t see bright red bandages.  Dogs (and I’m one) can’t see the color red.  Red looks kind of greenish brown to us.  This is important, and I’ll tell you why later.

Clearly this is a change of outfit from how I looked the morning of my tunneling.

So let’s continue with our story, as this day was a big and long day.

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