The Chronicles of Lucy.

Yes, the Lucy-bun saga just keeps on going . . .

The vet who was scheduled to perform Lucy's operation today was the rabbit specialist - he looked after Bella when she was sick, and helped give me options when I was at a loss of what to do next. I felt comfortable that I was leaving Lucy in good hands, so I signed her in for surgery and took off to go to the doctors myself. The parting words I received from the vet clinic were that I could call at 4pm to check-up on how the surgery went, or they had my number. I was preferring this not to happen, seeing as they generally only ring you if there is bad news.

But I digress. I ended up back at home and about two hours later, my telephone rang. [You can imagine the panic I went into when I recognised the caller ID.] The vet had rang to chat with me about Lucy; he had been doing another examination on her wounds before putting her under anaesthetic, and wanted to run an idea past me. He recited the risks of rabbit surgery I'd heard a dozen times before, and then came out and stated that the chance of the anaesthetic being fatal far outweighed the option of letting her wounds heal without surgery.

Of course, I was completely confused; what do I do? I'm not an expert by any means, so I asked bluntly what he thought I should do. His response was to try and stay as unintrusive as possible. In plain language, avoid the surgery. He told me that he had observed Lucy in the consultation hours and noted that she was a happy, jumpy bunny who didn't seem to experience any discomfort from the bite marks. I agreed with his decision, so once again my grumpy wee bunny is home with me.

She's doing okay, she's surgery-free and she's her usual head butting self. Over the next week, I'm to keep a close eye on her wounds, make sure no abscesses appear, keep her foods up and take her back for a visit next week. All well and good, I just have to squirt her antibiotic medicine into her mouth twice a day as well as putting ointment on the wounds. Let me just pause here for effect. Yes, I have the wonderful job of giving her medicine by mouth. Does this procedure sound familiar?

Anyone who has read my ramblings for a while now, will remember that I have done this before. Here's what I had to say back when I was treating Bella;

"She is hilarious when she has her meds; she makes it hard for me (but has never bitten, but eventually gives in. When the liquid goes in, out comes her tongue, and she sits up on her hind legs and swipes at her tongue with her paws.

If I spoke bunny, I’m sure she’d be saying "What the FUCK was that? Get it off!"

Ever tried giving a rabbit medicine before? Ever actually gone near a rabbit's mouth before? Ever seen the size of their chompers before? You'd think after administering medicine to one rabbit that I'd be an expert at the job.

Yeah, er, no. I'm apparently not.

When I played nurse for Bella, I wedged her in close to my body with one arm and got her mouth open for the medicine fairly uneventfully. Heck, I made it look like a fine art after a few weeks of practice. I figured I'd use the same maneuvere on Lucy, except that I was forgetting one small factor; she has pretty horrible open wounds. On her back. On her side. And she hates people going near her head, even to pat her. Yours truly is no exception to the rule.

It took me about fifteen minutes to eventually wrangle the medicine into her mouth this afternoon. Fifteen minutes! It's going to be a fun couple of weeks!

But honestly, I'm just happy that the vet is positive, that I'm doing what I can to make her well, and that she won't have the risk of anaesthetic hovering over her head. Hopefully with her medicines, some TLC and a little tmie, Lucy'll be good as new soon, give or take a few bald spots. And I can rest a little easier too; the price for today ended up being $80, plus another $80 for the new hutch I've purchased for her. There will be no more Ricky & Lucy snuggling from now on, unless they are in their outdoor enclosure with their momma supervising.

Oh, and as for my very own diagnosis? I;m the proud owner of a charming gastro intestinal bug. Except the vet didn't diagnose me. I went to a real doctor. Honest.