It never ceases to amaze me how quickly life can change.
How fast it can go from routine to survival.
How rapidly the big priorities are forgotten once other needs force their way to the top of the heap.
And how suddenly the attitude can shift from high expectations to one of immense gratitude for even the smallest blessings.
One week ago today, things were good. Normal. I snapped this picture of Kazh on our morning walk and captioned it, “Bat Boy.”
A few hours later, a normal walk became an impossibility.
Filled with more enthusiasm than grace, our boy broke his leg later that afternoon in a heroic attempt to catch a tennis ball.
It was bad. Brock and I both heard the snap of the bone and we both cried out that his leg was broken. We rushed to our vet, thankfully just down the street.
In the exam room, our emotions were high. Not only was it hard to see him consumed with pain and fear, it was all-too-familiar waiting on news from the vet. Tiger’s loss is still very fresh.
We were sent home with pain medication, a temporary splint and a CD with X-rays that confirmed the break, due to be delivered the following day to the surgeon.
It was a long night. Brock built me a pallet on the floor next to Kazh’s bed. The initial shock had worn off and the medication wasn’t able to eliminate the pain. All I could do was hold him as he cried and shook.
The break was a doozy- a spiral fracture the entire length of the tibia, missing the ankle by a mere millimeter. The surgeon implanted a plate, held with twelve screws.
And now the long, slow and frustrating process of healing has begun.
As soon as the bone was anchored, his pain became manageable. However, he’s not allowed to bear weight on the injured limb for several weeks.
It’s like having a newborn. He can’t be left alone. He’s on a regular schedule of food and medication. And a simple trip to the bathroom requires a waterproof sock over his cast, a sling under his belly and a leash to hold him back from his instinct to run and play.
It’s hard right now. We’re all sleep deprived. Stressed. And having a hard time accepting the slow pace of healing and the restrictions it requires.
And yet, we’re incredibly grateful that our boy will be okay, that we’re able to take care of him and that we have each other to help us through.
Life. It definitely keeps us on our toes.