abigail414's diaryland diary
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Chester the Bulldog
I love what I do for a living. It is inspired and challenging work, a calling, a daily opportunity to be fully present and use my gifts. But it is emotionally and physically exhausting. I worked 6 out of 7 days due to a fluke in the schedule, the last two of which were over 12 hours long. I�m 50 years old, and this doesn�t come easy. While I�m at work, I�m totally there. I pay the price when I go home and realize I have NO energy to do anything whatsoever. Horizontal is where I want to be.
There are so many veterinary stories from the week, but I want to talk about Chester the bulldog - an incredibly sweet guy with a chronic back problem, who came into the clinic acutely �down� (meaning he couldn�t walk, not that he was depressed). He was treated by one of my colleagues with a mongo dose of steroids and voila, was up again and transferred to me for the weekend. Unfortunately, Chester began a decline on Friday, possibly due to a ripped knee. He had very little nerve sensation in his right hind leg, so placement was difficult, and perhaps he fell one too many times. Whatever the cause, he was again crippled. His owners had been awaiting his demise for the past year, and decided to let him go - but could not do so until Monday. Chester�s buddy Hugo was pining for him at home, so was brought to keep him company for the weekend.
I�ve never gotten the appeal of bulldogs until now. Yes, the puppies are inordinately cute, but when grown they are almost 60 pounds of medical problems. They can�t breathe well, have lots of defects with their eyes and skeleton and skin, and spend their entire life snorting, winded, and exhausted. There is not much grace or beauty to a bulldog. But such intensity and stubbornness! They hurl their imperfect barrel-shaped bodies forward into the world with an amazing gusto. And yes, they do resemble Winston Churchill. Or sumo wrestlers. Either way, they made me smile.
Since I am a sucker for a guy with gusto who makes me smile, Chester stole my heart. I fall in love with a lot of my patients, which is a perk of being a veterinarian, but also painful when they have to go. He would look up at me with his one blue and one brown eye, an unexpected expression of patience and kindness on his �ugly� mug. And, the bond between Chester and Hugo was nothing short of amazing. They weren't neutered, and Hugo showered affection on Chester, barking frantically if left in the run alone. (Perhaps they were gay like most males in Palm Springs, but I got a more comradely vibe). I hand-tended Chester to be sure he didn�t hurt himself further, kept him hydrated and out of pain, and hoped for a �Hail Mary� pass to bring him back. He could barely use his bad leg, but on Saturday managed to stand on it and lift his good leg for tree-marking. His bladder was giant-sized and he found great joy in using it. He also had a tremendous appetite, and sincerely enjoyed company.
Chester was only 6 years old, and died a peaceful death at my hands. One of his owners was present, the other outside in the waiting room. Hugo was there, and licked him to pieces before we put a catheter in. After Chester died, Hugo was brought up to smell him, and he just looked away. My father�s dog did the same thing when we brought her to the funeral home. They just know. The last I saw of Chester, he was with his owners sobbing over his remains. Gawd this is hard sometimes. And that was my first appointment of the day on Monday.
6:49 p.m. - 2006-08-09
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