A VERY Bad Day

Yesterday was supposed to be such a nice day. The kids and I discovered that there's a massive indoor playground about half an hour away on the A1 heading towards Germany and planned to spend the day there; me with a pile of books and my iPod, them running around and yelling themselves hoarse in the pirate-themed 'play paradise'.

We were getting ready to go, and in the back of my mind it registered that I hadn't seen Rocco outside for a while. As we got our stuff together I glanced out a few times, checking the places he would normally be around 10am and decided to have a quick check before jumping in the car. I found him in the hutch with his back to the door. Opening up the lid I said " hey Rocco..." then noticed two drops of blood in the straw bedding. Carefully scooping him up, I looked down and spotted a red mass protruding from his head where his right eye should be. It was one of those horrendous moments, when you feel like your guts have just dropped into your shoes while your brain implodes against the top of your skull. My heartbeat went from 60 to 120 in about 0.5 of a second as Crisis Mode set in. I quickly put him back down, flicked the door of the hutch shut in case he tried to leave and ran inside. Grabbing the phone I rang the vet clinic; they were just about to shut. After telling them I would be there in less than 5 minutes with an emergency I yelled at the kids to either come with me or stay here but to decide RIGHT NOW. Within a minute I had Rocco in the car and we were at the vet within 2 more minutes.

At first it looked hopeful; as the vet first cleaned the wound with saline, the red mass turned out to be a blood clot. However as she rinsed further we both went "Oh!" as we simultaneously saw what was clearly the lens of the eye crumpled on his lower eye lid. The eyeball was ruptured. The eye would have to be surgically removed and the lids stitched permanently shut if he was to survive.

It's at moments like this that I start mentally kicking myself in the head as I try not to get emotional, not to let feelings take over from logic and crowding the space in my head as critical split-second decisions need to be made. The vet and her assistant were both on their own time; in theory I should bring Rocco back on Monday (never an option) or find the emergency vet in the region. However without hesitation she asked her assistant if she would work overtime and the answer was yes.

There was no question about whether or not to operate. Rocco has been practically blind in both eyes anyway for a long time due to cataracts, and if he survived the operation his quality of life would not be impaired; he would not be in any pain or further handicapped. However the big danger was the anaesthetic. Rocco is 'officially' (according to the vet) the oldest rabbit in our town, and at 9 years 7 months, the oldest one she has ever seen. Surviving the operation was a huge risk for him, but one we had to take. There simply wasn't another option. As he hunched on the examination table, motionlessly leaning his head in the palm of my hand, I wondered if this was goodbye. He never made a noise the entire time, but feeling that small weight of him in my hand, leaning for support in a silent plea for help, I was acutely aware that his life was literally in the balance. Gently putting him back into the cage, I tried not to think that I may never get to pat him again and telling him I'd see him soon, I left.

There followed 90 nail-biting minutes while I waited at home for the phone call. I filled the time frantically trying to find what he had poked his eye on, and setting up a large cage in the lounge for him to recover in for the next week or so. He will have to be separated from Punky Muffin until the stitches come out (PLEASE don't let them un-bond again!) and for the first night he would need extra heating to prevent post-operative shock setting in.

Finally the phone rang; he had survived and was starting to wake up. I collected him gratefully, only just resisting the temptation to crush the vet in a huge hug. Gingerly laying him in his temporary home in the lounge, he flopped groggily into the soft bedding and gradully woke up over the next four hours or so. By late afternoon he was starting to nibble vegetables, and he was more or less fully awake by late evening. This morning he was feeling a bit lethargic but since the weather was sunny and all the snow has melted in the past couple of days I let him out - closely supervised - to spend time on the grass with Punky Muffin. He immediately cheered up, gave himself a thorough groom and started trying to hump her. He is truly unbelievable.

The reason I'm posting these pictures is so that you can see that while small animals do get seriously hurt despite our best attempts to keep them safe, rapid veterinary help can do wonders. Don't give up on them. The odds of Rocco not waking up after surgery were high, but he deserved the chance, and he sailed through. He's got some recovering to do but with continued TLC he should make a full recovery and be back harassing his girlfriend within 8 or 9 days. Once the swelling goes down and his fur grows back he won't look like he's just gone 3 rounds with Mike Tyson. The point is our pets deserve every chance we can give them to lead long, healthy lives.