When I had called Pet Street Station Animal Hospital, I assumed I would just be giving a dog a bath or cleaning out the kennels, but boy was I in for a surprise. For this week’s edition of Punching the Clock, I was granted the rare privilege of witnessing Dr. Catherine Cruz work her magic performing a cystotomy on a six-year-old dog named Molly, who was suffering from bad case of bladder stones. Of course not having a doctorate in animal medicine myself, Dr. Cruz wisely performed the surgery while I watched on in horrified bemusement. Nevertheless, I was able to help prep the pooch for surgery.
By the time I arrived at Pet Street on East River Road in Norwich, Molly was already well on her way to dream land. While the dog finished drifting off, I donned a pair of scrubs and was instructed to grab her legs. I gripped the upper portion of Molly’s front leg, causing her veins to enlarge and bulge out so blood could be drawn. After the blood was drawn, I assumed I would inhabit the role of an observant fly on the wall for the remainder of the procedure, but I was wrong again. Next, toenail clippers were handed to me and I was told to proceed with clipping the dog’s nails. I am proud to say I managed the task with a minimal amount of ineptitude, only drawing a small amount of blood with one of my cuts. After the nails were trimmed, it was time to shave Molly’s belly, something I have often had the urge to do to my own dogs.
After this was done, Dr. Cruz directed me towards an x-ray of Molly. She pointed out the rocks in the bladder which showed up as a large clump of bright white against the grey and black of the image. Even though I am not a doctor, I could tell it did not look normal.
With a freshly trimmed and sanitized underside as well as a breathing tube down her throat, it was time to haul the unconscious Molly’s stretcher on to the operating table. Once the stretcher was in place, a catheter was put in and I was told to help secure her limbs to the table using ropes.
At this point, things started to get dicey. One of the first things out of Dr. Cruz’s mouth when I asked her if she would be willing to let me do a Punching the Clock, was should I faint during the operation it would be well documented with photographs posted on the internet. I received specific instructions on how best to handle myself should I start to feel light headed while I watched Dr. Cruz slice the dog’s lower abdomen asunder. Should the sight of blood and guts get the best of me, I was instructed to place my back against a wall and slowly slide down to the ground.
Dr. Cruz began the cystotomy with an artfully-done incision approximately six inches in length, along the scar left over from when Molly was spayed. As Dr. Cruz expertly worked her scalpel through the pit bull’s fat, she ran into a problem. It turnout when Molly had been spayed the doctor had used stainless steel stitching instead of the more orthodox dissolvable sutures. In order to get through the heavily fortified stitching, Dr. Cruz had to utilize other cutting tools and then track down all of the metal pieces to curb the risk of them entering the dog and acting like shrapnel. Crisis averted, Dr. Cruz took the opportunity to bury her forearm into the beast and start rooting around for the dog’s bladder. Once she had the afflicted organ in hand, she pulled it out of the dog and conveniently rested it on the dog’s underbelly. The bladder lay perched on a sanitized cloth, while the ureters and urethra connecting the organ to the rest of the dog remained untouched. Molly’s bladder was blotted and lumpy and even to the untrained eye, something was clearly amiss.
Once the bladder was in the open, it was time for Dr.Cruz to go to work on it. She began by splitting it open wielding her scalpel with trained proficiency, while I did my best to stay as far away from the procedure with looking too squeamish. Then Dr. Cruz started emptying the bladder of the first stone, which as it turned out looked remarkably like, well ... stones, go figure. As it turned out, Molly’s bladder was chock full of rocks, more so than Dr. Cruz had ever seen in 35 years of practice. After pouring out the bulk of the stones, Dr. Cruz resorted to the use of a long, thin-handled scooping device to rout any sedimentary stragglers. Before suturing the bladder, Dr. Cruz had her assistant inject the catheter with a saline solution resulting in a flush of blood and solution out the other end of the open bladder. Afterwards, the veterinarian began her work closing up the organ with two separate layers of stitching using a curved needle and a thread which will dissolve after the incision heals. Once the bladder was fastened shut, Dr. Cruz had her assistant inject the catheter with more saline solution to see if there were any leaks. Satisfied with her quality handiwork, Dr. Cruz plopped the sutured and rock-free bladder back into place, and began stitching Molly’s lower abdomen shut using the same double-layered procedure. Once Dr. Cruz was done sewing the dog back up, the only indicator surgery was committed was a thin red line. None of the stitching was even visible, which I found remarkable. If I hadn’t just seen the dog’s guts with my own two eyes, I would have had a hard time guessing that not five minutes ago Molly’s insides had been cooling at room temperature.
Here I thought I was justing going to give a dog a bath, but instead I was amazed to watch the dog wake up and walk away, albeit hampered by the fading effects of the sedative and all I could think was, “that dog’s guts were just hanging out of it.”