Somehow, taking Oscar to the vet was internally nerve-wracking today. I’m starting to have a lot better handle on the whole PTSD phenomenon. At least as far as physical effects on me or my dog are concerned, last week’s accident wasn’t that bad. However, it doesn’t take much to freak me out when it comes to driving right now. Therefore, I can see how someone experiencing worse trauma could have a whole lot worse time recovering healthy and normal thought patterns and reactions to certain stimuli–or the anticipation of such. Today, just embarking on the same trip which was so unhappily interrupted last Monday, was, in certain moments, almost more than I could psychologically handle.
Fortunately, there was no one to bail me out so I just had to push through the psychology, and it was mild enough so that I could. Oscar and I made it both to the vet and back from the vet, and we survived, and my friend’s car survived, and what’s more, Oscar’s original ailments are actually treatable. I mean, treatable without excessive expense.
Apparently he has colitis, mostly likely on account of being such a nervous little animal. I have to give him some antibiotics, modify his diet for a while, and tell his fan club at church that they can’t feed him any treats for the rest of the week . . . unless, I suppose, I can find some sort of probiotic dog treats they can give him. Anyway. I’m just relieved he doesn’t have cancer or something like that. In many ways, Oscar and I are a lot alike. I was just hoping it wasn’t that way. So I’m glad it isn’t. There was some discussion, however, of putting him on Prozac . . .