I just dropped Lexie off at the vet for her bilateral enucleation surgery. I’m such a bundle of mixed emotions right now. I’m crying, of course, because my Lou is never going to be able to look at me again. She’ll never greet me at the door with one of her stuffed animals in her mouth, enticing me to chase her around the living room and dining room ever again. (My favorite part of that game, by the way, was when I’d be chasing her around through the dining room, kitchen, and living room, but then I’d stop and quietly reverse directions. She’d sense that I stopped chasing her, so she’d get really quiet and sneaky, too, and try to find me. Then, it became a game of “who can sneak up on whom first” before resuming the game of chase.) I’m going to miss watching her look out our living room window and getting that “stranger danger” face if a passer-by happened to linger in front of our house a little too long. I’m going to miss the way she’d always be the first of my girls to come back inside after being let out, just so she could sit in the doorway with me and watchfully wait for Sam and Jocie to come back inside. If they took too long, she’d go back out into the yard and bark until they came in.
These are the things I am grieving, which I don’t think people think about when they tell me (repeatedly) that, “She’s going to be fine. Dogs adjust SO well to being blind.” While I understand that Lexie is going to be okay and adjust to being blind, there’s a part of her that is now gone forever, and I’m heartbroken over that. I do appreciate it when people try to cheer me up and help me look on the bright side of this situation, but I need to be allowed to be sad and upset about it for a while, too. Trust me, I can find the bright side to just about anything because I don’t see the point in wallowing in sadness or self-pity for very long. However, it takes a good dose of crying and, yes, even a little bit of the aforementioned wallowing for me to get it all out of my system and get to that place where I simply don’t WANT to be sad anymore. I’m not there yet, but I'm getting there.
I took a couple photos of Lou this morning to always remind me that I made the right decision in regard to her bilateral enucleation. Just look at the side-by-side comparison above. I took the photo on the left the day I decided I didn’t want to have her left eye removed because it looked practically normal compared to her right eye. The photo on the right was taken this morning, just four days later.
On a more upbeat note, I will say that I wasn’t AS emotional as I thought I’d be when I left her at the Animal Care Clinic this morning. I did give each of her eyes a little kiss good-bye, but because I know her eyes are causing her pain, in a small, weird way I’m actually kind of happy for Lou this morning. I am just so anxious for her feel better. I’m also looking forward to watching her adjust and learn new things, including new games that we can play together once she’s all healed. Yeah, I’d say that I’m to the point right now where I just want all of this pain to end (hers AND mine) so we can start moving on. In the meantime, this is going to be a looooooong day...
