I took my puppy, Bailey, to the vet this morning to drop her off for her surgery. She's being spayed today, 4 days shy of turning 6 months old. I am sure she will be fine when I pick her up tomorrow. But, it is surgery, and she is being put to sleep, so I worry. We made sure to not feed her breakfast today so that all would be ok. I had flashbacks to two different occasions on the way to the vet: the first, when I took my cocker spaniel, Zoey, to her spaying surgery and when I found out I was being induced with Andrew.
I had never had a dog and my late husband, Allan, grew up with them. He wanted one in the worst way. So, the day after we returned from our honeymoon, we bought Zoey. She was almost 3 months old when we got her and I had no idea what to do with her. She cried the ENTIRE first night we had her home. It was awful. But, that dog was house broken rather quickly. We had a doggie door. Allan stood outside and I stood inside and we just kept throwing her in and out until she got it. But, she had her shtick. The dog wouldn't run across the grass. She would only walk the border of the yard. Never figured out why she was so weird. She wasn't a fan of the snow. She died before she turned 4 years old. There are some theories surrounding her death--ones I will not go into here--but she was a good girl and I am sorry her life was cut short.
In any event, my Bubby had come to my house the day before Zoey's spaying. My Bub was PETRIFIED of dogs and so she was in her room during the visit. I told my Bub she was being spayed the next day. She needed an explanation as to what that was. So, I explained it was essentially a hysterectomy and she wouldn't be able to have puppies. I showed her that they'd cut her stomach vertically. I did this over my own belly. Bub slapped my hand and told me to never do that. I thought it was just some silly superstition she had; that was, until I gave birth to Andrew.
My Andrew was 11 days overcooked. That boy was never coming out. Not that he didn't want to, but it seems that my body doesn't understand the concept of labor (even with pitocin) and I never labored with any of my boys. I'd contract but never, ever, ever would my cervix soften or dilate. NEVER! I had a scheduled induction date. But, being overdue, I was a the OB every other day just to check on everything. So, 2 days before that date, the OB decided enough was enough and we needed to induce labor. I'll save all the details of that for Andrew's birthday blog, LOL, but I ended up with a very scary emergency c-section that night. And, because it was such an extreme emergency, I have a vertical incision, rather than a bikini cut. It's very rare for a doctor to have to use that cut anymore. (In fact, at a follow up OB/GYNE appointment, I actually had one of the nurses accuse me of not knowing what kind of cut I had. She told me "no one uses that cut anymore unless its a super emergency". I stood up and dropped my pants and pulled down my underwear. She didn't know what to say.
I look like I have a front tushy. I'm not sure if anyone will understand that without seeing it, but I sure as hell won't let anyone see it. After Andrew, the scar was like a hairline--super thin and faded nicely.For Issac, they went right in thru the same incision. (Allan always said rather than staples, they should've given me a zipper) After Issac, it was more noticeable. After Simon, forget it. My insides had drooped and so they started the incision several inches lower than the original. So it also goes lower than the original. And, it flaps and folds in-ish.
Anyway, I can't help but think that the reason I ended up with the vertical incision was because of what I did when explaining the spaying surgery to my Bub. (Rational Kerry (she does actually exist, somewhere deep within me) knows better and that it was truly a medical issue.) Maybe this crazy superstition of hers was really not such shtick. Maybe she really knew something. And, as she always would tell us, she may not always be right, but she was never wrong.