The vet tech this morning said Sam and Jacey should be done by 2 o'clock, 3 at the latest.
With no news by 2, I went out to run errands (like returning some library books). I went on to the vet's office and got there at 2:50. Sam's out of surgery, but not awake and ready to go. Jacey hadn't been started. It'll be at least another couple of hours.
I know this kind of stuff is unpredictable. They had eight procedures to do today, and they worked on the sick animals before the healthy ones (like my two). And in the past, it's been more like 5 pm before my dog was done (I've never had both in before, like this). And the guy quoting me "3 at the latest" probably wasn't expecting delays...and probably thought that a delay would be no big deal.
But I'm not handling this whole thing very well. I've looked over my shoulder to check on Sam at least a dozen times today...and he's not there. And I was so psyched to get my dogs back by 3, that the delay is not going over well with me. I wish I'd taken my crocheting with me when I went to the vet's. I'd have plopped myself down in the waiting room and just sat there until my dogs were ready. At least I wouldn't be looking around for Sam. I wouldn't be wondering why my phone wasn't ringing, wondering if the cell tower's signal is strong enough in this part of the house, shaking the thing, turning it on and off so it will reacquire the nearest, strongest signal.
And I wouldn't be sitting here crying because the vet's office is running a little behind schedule.
And Comcast is having a bad-signal day. Half my attempts to access anything on the Internet are frustrated by error messages, and bad-signal light combinations on the modem. And while I'm sitting here, waiting for Comcast to maybe show me something (eventually), I start looking around to see what trouble Sam's getting into.
I'm thinking I may pack up my crocheting and just head back to the vet's. I can sit in their waiting room and crochet and go quietly nuts, wondering what every sound I hear from the back really means. (Was that Sam? Is that Jacey crying? Why did someone just run by? Do the techs look tense? Is something wrong back there? And why is it taking so damned long?) I could drive the vet staff seriously mad and scare the hell out of the other customers. But at least I wouldn't be facing a drive back over there in rush hour traffic, where every moron who drives slowly in front of me is in serious danger of having a red Prizm shoved up his tailpipe.
For those of you who weren't here in March of last year and don't know why I'm so stressed: My Oreo broke her leg in a freak accident, needed orthopedic surgery, and never came out of the anesthesia; she suffered a pulmonary embolism. And I know that whole series of events was just a batch of freak occurrences--just really shitty luck. But I'm not absolutely convinced that I've exhausted my quotient of shitty luck.
Hell, I'm taking my crocheting and going back to the vet's. If Sam's awake and ready to go before Jacey, he and I can sit in the waiting room, and I can hug him and cry on his shoulder. (I've done it before.) And I'll be much more patient with lousy drivers on my way home with my dogs. Don't expect to hear any news from me for another couple of hours.