tbh, I wasn't entirely surprised with the results, so they weren't unexpected. My biggest worry is her rather fragile psyche will struggle with any additional surgeries..
It's not the best case, obviously, but you will all get through this. I think I understand as much as most what it's like to have a sensitive dog, and you do just get on and deal with it. It can be heartbreaking at times, and worrying at others, but you have the knowledge, the understanding, and the kindness to find a way through.
I don't think any future surgery will do irreversible damage psychologically; it might be a long road to come through, but you will find out what works for the two of you. Because of who you are, you will keep questioning, keep trying, and keep learning as you go. More than that, even though it can be heartbreaking to see your dog feeling low, this is very rarely their entire life. Outside of those periods of anxiety, you spend times training, or playing, or whatever it is that makes you both happy. If she's anxious around other people, well, you can work on that for sure, but also you're not around other people all day, every day, so she gets lots of down time having fun with her loving family.
I think it might be appropriate to re-post this story, which I put on Willow's thread some time ago. It's written from the viewpoint of a mother with a disabled child, but applies equally well to those of us who have ended up in doggy situations that weren't what we'd envisaged:
Welcome to Holland
Written by Emily Perl Kingsley
When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum, the Michelangelo David, the gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland.”
“Holland?!” you say. “What do you mean, Holland?” I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.
But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to some horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.
So you must go out and buy a new guidebook. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It’s just a different place. It’s slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”
The pain of that will never, ever, go away, because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.
But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.