What's next?

I'd be lying if I told you I knew what comes next.  The last three weeks have taught us a few things.  First, we learned that our chaotic life wasn't that chaotic at all.  At least not as chaotic as it could be. Krysta made a comment today that stuck with me.  "I feel like I'm getting behind in life".  I feel that way too.  We are getting behind in life.  There's no better way to put it.  Second, I learned not to underestimate the kindness of strangers.  When someone spends their free time making a Christmas blanket for a dog because someone else loves that dog, that person is special to you.  Bentley looks mighty handsome in his new blanket. Thanks Becky :)  Third?  Third, I learned that you can't go back.  You can't change anything.  You can't latch the gate.  You can't make sure it's latched before you let the dogs out.  You can't pay more attention.  And because you can't go back and do those things.. or do them again, you let those things go.  Now you deal with it.  You process it.  You pay for it.  You move on.  You get the kids started on homework, you get them to soccer, you get them in showers, you get them in bed and you find a way to get back down to the hospital so you're dog will eat his food and take his medicine.  Sometimes... always, that's at 1100pm.  You don't complain. 

You do the same thing on your lunch break if you can.  You drive 30 minutes, feed your dog lunch, reassure him, and shove his pills down his throat.  You take lots of selfies.  Then you drive 30 minutes back to work.  You do that because you have awesome people in your life that allow you to.  You do that because even though there are professionals watching over him, it doesn't alleviate you from your responsibilities.  It weighs heavy on your conscience.  You listen to the doctors and start thinking about what comes next.  You wonder what happens after the infection.  You wonder when he's coming home.  If he'll walk again.  You wonder if the girl who hit him is reading your blog.  You wonder if she knows it wasn't her fault.  You wonder if she needs a hug.  You wonder if she knows that you are thankful that she's safe, that she didn't risk her life to save his.  That she didn't kill someone else or herself because your dog ran out in front of her.  You wonder if she knows that he's alive and that she didn't kill him.

So what comes next?  Well, the Doctors want to try to salvage his right leg.  It's a mess right now.  The infection and trauma left it's mark.  They could see all the way down to the bone plate.  To save his leg, the Doctors may attempt a FHO (Femoral Head Ostectomy)  Essentially, they will cut the ball off the top of his femur...  the part that goes into his hip joint.  They will allow the body to heal in a way that creates a new "false" hip joint.  It's actually pretty common, but that doesn't make it full proof.  That comes with it's own risks, but it may be the best chance to save his leg, and we like best chances.  We've been "best chancing" it for three weeks.  That could happen as early as next week and with a  lengthy recovery, it might be several weeks before he is ok to come home.  That's just a guess, because I don't actually know anything. 

Bentley is on a bit of a hunger strike right now.  We get him to eat by hand feeding him.  He seems a little bit depressed and I can't blame him.  I have no idea what's going on in his head but I know that it has to be hard and a little lonely.  I just got home from work and the kids want to see him.  We will visit a little earlier this evening and bring him some chicken and rice.  Krysta said she had some luck with that earlier.  He still tries to jump up when we come in.  Lots of heavy panting.  It takes him a while to settle down.  It seems like we just get him relaxed before we leave again.  The staff there continues to amaze me.  We are there so much that I sometimes forget it's an emergency room and not a "hangout".  We try to do little things for them, bring food etc.. but it pales in comparison to what they do for us. 

It's hard every time we leave.  This is the first night he got his blanket.  I wrapped him up and I think it was late enough that he was pretty tuckered out.  This doesn't represent the norm.  usually he watches me like a hawk.  His eyes fixate on me and it's almost a psychotic stare.  Once again, who the heck knows what he's thinking.  I'm guessing he is a little confused and thinks we should be taking him with us.  That's what I would think if I were him. 

And that's where we're at.  Just like you, we're waiting to find out what's next.  Tonight when Krysta gets off work, we'll fold laundry, clean the house, get the kids settled, and try to catch up with life so we can get up and do it all again tomorrow.  And it's ok.  We won't complain.