Part 1 of Huckleberry's Hip Replacement can be found here, which explains how I noticed something was wrong with his leg and how I sought veterinary help.
You'll be glad to know that Part 2 finally gets into the Hip Replacement rather than me banging on about the long drawn out process that lead up to us getting here!
Once I'd gotten our D-Day date, I could feel my anxiety heighten and as the week progressed it got worse. Although I would say that this time around I felt a sense of calm as well in the sense that I had finally come to terms that Huckleberry needed this hip replacement.
I had watched him spend the last few months struggle after long walks, and it was becoming increasingly hard to watch him limp in the evening and clearly struggle. My heart told me I didn't want him to go through this potentially life changing surgery, but my head told me I had to.
I asked the surgeon repeatedly what the chances were of him not waking up from the surgery and what were the chances of complications surrounding the hip.
The anxiety of him not waking up played on my mind daily, and although the surgeon tried to put my mind at ease by saying he had only had it happen to one dog (who also had other issues) in all his 12 years of doing Orthopaedic surgery, and I needed to understand Huckleberry had one of the leading Anaesthetic team in the country looking after him - I couldn't relax.
The problem is, no matter how many times I was told that, or no matter how many times I googled these questions, I still felt like I had a cloud over my head.
In the week leading up to his surgery I couldn't stop myself from thinking "What if this the last ever time he comes to the beach?" or "What if this is the last time I ever get to take a photo with him?" and I went into overdrive of taking photos of him and soaking up the moments. My mind repeatedly flashed to how many times he'd gotten me up in the mornings when I didn't want to, or the time I was having a particularly hard day and he jumped on me in bed whilst I was crying and shoved his toy in my face to get me to laugh.
The last few years we'd been through together all resurfaced and I felt like kicking myself all over again, with things that seemed a distant memory popping up and reminding me just how much this dog really was my everything.
I was angry that I had always done everything right by Huckleberry; he was always fed the most expensive food, visited the vets more often than he needed, signed up to every pet health club going, given the most expensive coats, harnesses, toys, treats - and yet here we were, being punished that he needed such invasive surgery.
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Usually when a dog has a Total Hip Replacement they are admitted the day before to be starved and for pre-op tests and sterilisation. However our surgeon understood my anxiety and after a discussion he said he felt it was best for me and Huckleberry that I arrived very early with him on the morning of surgery. More tests than needed had already been done, and I was happy to starve him at home. The agreement was that I just needed to arrive at the vets for 7am to allow them plenty of time to do anything they needed to before the op.
I was fed up with people asking me if I was okay and how I felt that the day was tomorrow.. I just wanted to be in the car and get it out the way.
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On the day of surgery, I left home about 2:45am and picked my Aunty up on the way who had offered to come with me. Inwardly I was a mess; all I wanted to do was cry, but outwardly I didn't want Huckleberry to see me crying as it always panics him.
One thing I love about this vets is that it doesn't "look" or "smell" like a vets when you go in. In fact we joke it's like visiting a very posh private hospital for humans. The waiting room doesn't give off a vets vibe, and the staff couldn't be any nicer. Huckleberry is a nervous dog at the vets and usually insists on sitting on my knee in vets waiting rooms, but never at this one - he happily sits on the floor.
Finally it's our time to go in and the surgeon talks me through everything he is going to do and once again asks if I have any questions. We discussed that the surgeon has what he calls one of the easier jobs, and that's replacing the hip. The real test is the recovery at home and the complications that can arise such as dislocation, infection and a Hip Replacement failure where it needs to be done again. He spends time assuring me he will do his very best in surgery and at home providing we follow the rules, we should have an easy recovery and everything will go to plan.
Before long its time to sign on the dreaded dotted line, and hand Huckleberry over whilst being determined not to cry in front of him.
Initially I'd planned on sitting in the waiting room whilst they did surgery but our surgeon told me to drive the 3.5 hours home, get some rest and promised he would call when they finished later in the evening.
Walking away from him was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, but the sense of relief that today was finally here hit me and I knew I had to do this to give Huckleberry his quality of life he had always known, back. He was a dog that spent most of his days outdoor with me, loved running on the beach and chasing cats - all of which he'd struggled to do lately.
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I will always be eternally grateful for my friends that showed up for me on this day. I turned my phone on to texts, well wishes and love from so many people. Later in the afternoon my friend and lovely riding instructor asked me what I was doing whilst Huckleberry was in surgery and said she was coming over to give me a lesson. My partner spent the afternoon with me and everyone around me that knew I would be a nervous wreck rallied round to make sure I knew I wasn't alone.
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I'm not going to sugar coat it, the whole day was a blur and I spent the day clock watching wondering what was going on now, all whilst questioning whether he would hate me for putting him through this, would he be in agony, and most importantly would it work.
At 4pm I got the call I'd been waiting for all day. Huckleberry was slowly waking up and surgery had been a success. The surgeon was happy with the Hip Replacement, and although it had been a little tricky in the moment, everything had gone as hoped and providing he had a comfortable night I could pick him up the following day.
The relief that washed over me was so intense, I couldn't do anything but cry. The day was here and we were now on the road to recovery. A long recovery nonetheless, but all those tears, questions, days of watching Huckleberry struggle - it all didn't matter now, because my boy had done it. He'd done the most important thing, and that was wake up and come back to me...and the rest, we could deal with.
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