Stent Stories: Treating
Laryngeal Paralysis Without Surgery

In August started making calls, a lot of calls. In retrospect, I think we were just naive about how things work. But that didn’t help us with the frustration and anger we were feeling.

We understand that veterinarians are under enormous pressure to do the impossible. We respect that, and in hindsight we understand why things work the way they do. But still, of the 40-odd inquiries we made by phone and email:

• About 60% of them wouldn’t answer any questions unless we drive to their location and pay for an in-person consultation.
• About 10% referred us to a  tie-back surgery specialist
• The rest told us on the phone to send them an email but didn’t respond to it

We contacted the European distributor and ordered the appropriate stent. All we wanted was for someone to try. If our dog didn’t survive the attempt then at least something was learned and maybe the next time would be the charm that saved a dog’s life.

So we soldiered on. We asked the European distributor for their U.S. customer list. They gave us five contacts. One receptionist in Colorado told us they would only provide information if we travel there from Maryland for an in-person consult. We had a good laugh over that one. One contact said they had no idea what we were talking about. One didn’t return the call.

In late August, we were elated to get a return call from a practice about 500 miles west of here. The surgical assistant told us their surgeon had performed the stent procedure on a dog that was not a candidate for tie-back. She told us he would be willing to do a Zoom call to discuss it. She was very nice and incredibly helpful and we thanked her profusely.

That encouraged us to continue the search locally, to no avail. But one day in late August we made a call, and to our amazement the person who answered the phone wasn’t a receptionist, but actually the practicing veterinarian. He gave us the name of a specialist at an newly-opened, big-name chain facility. We forwarded our documentation to them. A young internist agreed to do the procedure. We rejoiced — until we got the quote. It was almost as much as tie-back surgery. We felt that the overhead for this non-surgical procedure didn’t warrant a such a bill. But more importantly, if the inexperienced internist didn’t place the stent properly, it would require additional corrective procedures at the same rate until they got it right. We just weren’t going to commit to writing a blank check that could end up costing more than surgery. As each day passed and Miss B’s life became decreasingly worth living, we had to come to grips with the fact we were perhaps ahead of our time and that she just wasn’t going to get a life-saving stent no matter how hard we tried.

By this point it was clear that Miss B would suffocate to death within days. She could only breathe lying down. As soon as she stood up and her body started consuming oxygen, she couldn’t get any air. Emotionally, we were done. We decided not to pursue it with the one veterinarian who had returned our call. Most likely, by the time we scheduled the procedure and drove out there, Miss B would be dead. We started thinking about how we would spend her last days.

Then, on September 7, we got a call from a really friendly guy in New England. He told us he was the practice manager for a clinic where his wife is the veterinarian. They had over 20 years experience practicing together, and he was returning our call about the stent thing. He said they were in the same boat as we were a few weeks ago when Josephine, their Great Dane, was dying of LarPar. He said they couldn’t get anyone to do it either, so they ordered some stents and did it themselves. He told us it took a couple tries but eventually  they got it right and their dog had been breathing normally for about a month.

The rest of the conversation went like this:

Us: "Can you do it again? We can leave tomorrow night and be there the next morning."

Him: "Sure!"

At 3AM on September 9, 2022, we set out on our 7.5-hour drive. We crossed the George Washington Bridge, crossed over Manhattan through Connecticut, and headed north toward New England.

We arrived at 10:30 the next morning. They took us in immediately. We filled out the forms. They explained the post-procedure regimen. Then they took us in for the X-rays, explaining the procedure in detail based on the images. At about 11:30 AM they took Miss B in for the procedure. About five minutes later, they came out and said Miss B would be waking up very soon, and invited us in to be there when she came to. When we came in, she was still asleep but breathing normally. They were long, deep breaths, even and barely audible. After a simple five-minute procedure, Miss B could breathe again.

It’s hard to describe what we were feeling then. Imagine being catapulted from the depths of despair and failure and disgust with humanity to a place that’s exactly the opposite of that in just over 24 hours. Thanks to our New England friends, not only has Miss B’s life been renewed, but also our faith in people. You just have to find the right ones. Though they may seem few and far between, they are out there and if you look hard enough and don’t give up, you will find them. Maybe not always, but it’s always possible, and that makes it always worth trying.