Escapees March-April 2023

EMILY ANDMARK FAGAN #99408 traveled full-time by RV and sailboat for 13 years and now RV part-time. Emily has written over 200 articles for RV and sailing magazines, and the Fagans’ photography has appeared on magazine covers, commercial wall calen dars, museums and in National Parks! Their blog is roadslesstraveled.us. A longer version of this story with many more photos appears at roadslesstraveled. us/buddy-a-journey-in-sprit/. Buddy’s recovery profoundly changed our lives. We’d been touched by a divine hand. Lying in the dark late at night, we shared our feelings of rebirth, renewal and refocused priorities. Today, almost 18 months later, our Buddy is as healthy and happy as we ever could have imagined. movements in the room. By evening he’d been moved from the operating table to a kennel on the fl oor. Later that night we cheered as he stood up, hesitantly wagged his tail and took his fi rst steps. By the following afternoon, although his liver readings were still far from healthy and his urine was one shade lighter than black coffee, the veterinarian felt he was far enough on his way to recovery to be discharged into our care. The fi nal bill was $12,634. We stayed with him in our camper in the parking lot for an extra 24 hours to make sure he didn't have a relapse and then returned home, exuberant. On the Road to Recovery Initially, he was on 10 different medications, some taken with food and some without. Every hour, from 5:00 a.m. until 11 p.m., we gave him a pill or fed him a meal. After a few weeks, he returned to our favorite hiking trails, managing only short distances at fi rst but eventually resuming his puppy prance for miles. He remembered all of his tricks—come, stay, sit, shake, down and crawl—and he remembered our game of hide and seek where we hide treats around the house and he fi nds them by smell. No brain damage whatsoever! After a month he no longer needed medication, and a checkup with his regular veterinarian revealed his liver was recovering nicely. As his doctor studied the thick stack of docu ments he’d received from the hospital, he agreed we had witnessed a miracle.

She said. “But, you can pray.” And pray we did, like never before, with raw and ragged emotion. We envisioned Buddy’s miraculous recovery, going hiking with him, playing tug and watching him run. We prayed aloud for the doctor and her staff to have healing hands. Mark’s daughter put out a request for prayers on Facebook. The response was overwhelming. With nothing to do but wait, we drove home and got our truck camper so we could stay overnight in the hospital parking lot. We parked right around the corner from the front door and went inside. “Buddy is still alive!” The receptionist said excitedly. But we weren’t allowed to see him until nightfall when the emergency room was quiet. I’d never been in an ICU before and it was shocking to see our beloved boy lying prone and intubated on an operating table, wired up to a bank of monitors. His long tongue lay limp on the table. He had an IV inserted into one leg, an automated blood pressure cuff on one paw, a urine catheter, and something inserted into his abdomen. Tubes went to an IV bag on a hook and a urine bag on the fl oor. A blindfold covered his eyes and ear buds were inserted deep in his ears to block out all the lights and noise of this busy room. But his adorable ears were still visible amid all that technology. I leaned over the back of his neck, nuzzled my face into his warm fur and told him how much we loved him and how God was bringing him a miracle. He let out a familiar sigh of content ment. Mark buried his face in his fur, too, and talked with him about hiking, going on RZR rides and chomping on his bully stick. Buddy began breathing faster and gagged on the tube! He knew we were there! Gradual Improvement We were allowed to see him twice more during the night, and we were astonished that he gradually improved. A vet tech was permanently stationed by his head, clipboard in hand. She moni tored his vitals, changed the contents of the IV bag and kept his tongue moist. By mid-morning the veterinarian began to reduce his coma inducing medi cation, and he opened his eyes. Although groggy, he responded to sounds and

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March/April 2023 ESCAPEES Magazine