Post by vicelin on Oct 2, 2008 8:16:52 GMT -5
Warning: this is depressing. But I gotta rant at the end of it.
A few months ago my 12 1/2 year old yellow lab, Shelby, lost the equilibrium on her left side and had to be rushed to the emergency vet. She made a surprisingly fast recovery, although the bloodwork showed an abnormally high liver count, but from then on, things just started spiraling downhill.
She had always had a slight cough (more like a hak though), but now it was getting much worse. She had arthritis in her back legs and had trouble going up and down stairs, and that began to get worse too. And then I started noticing other things-- you know how the dogs eyes glow such a pretty green in certain lighting? Well, on the side that she had lost her equilibrium on, it glowed red. And when we took her for walks, her back paws would knuckle and she wouldn't even notice. Then her front legs started to weaken, she would fall unexpectedly. But we helped her through all of these-- supported her on the stairs, made sure she had lots of water, and loved her-- and she was as happy as she had always been.
But Sunday showed some warning signs. Her bowel movements were orange, and had been since the day before, and it wasn't changing. She refused meals. The night before she had so much trouble breathing that my parent's couldn't sleep. We noticed that the white of her right eye wasn't white anymore, it was coated in blood. And Sunday afternoon, after a very rough hakking, there was bloody mucus on the carpet.
We scheduled an appointment for Monday. 5'o clock. I was the only one home, so I drove her to the vet. My dad met us there. And then the vet took us into the exam room.
He did a test. He knuckled both her back paws and she didn't even notice. He informed us that this meant the leg problem was neutological and was bound to get worse, and no arthritis meds would help. The bloody eye and bloody mucus either meant something was bleeding in, or bleeding out, or even that she had anemia. And the orange poop would be a sign of liver disease.
Me and my dad just looked at each other, we knew it would come to this but neither of us were prepared-- this was the first time my family had been through a pet death, and Shelby was like a little sister to me, a daughter to my parents...but we couldn't let her suffer any longer. We made the decision then-- this was it. It was Shelby's time.
But then the vet asked the question, if we would like to be with her when she was euthanized. I couldn't handle it. I was about to burst into tears and had to get out of the building-- the pain I felt, I couldn't handle it. At the time, there was no way that I would have been able to go back there with her as she died, I would have had to ask them to euthanize ME as well, that's how upset I was.
So I hugged Shelby, told her she was a good girl, and said my goodbye. I was a coward. I couldn't stay. I left my dad in that room and I left, drove off, to an empty school parking lot where I cried like a baby for a whole hour. It turned out my dad couldn't go back with her either-- and then the day after came.
And now that it's two days later, I hate myself. Why couldn't I go back there with my little sister? Why couldn't I comfort her in her last moments? I hate myself for being such a coward, so afraid of death, but now I would give anything to turn back time and be with her, hold her as she took her final breath. This guilt is going to eat me alive-- I'm taking melatonin supplements to sleep, moping through each day, all I can think about is how stupid I was for not going back there with her, and instead I ran away.
I know it'll heal over time, but jesus christ. Why are humans so prone to doing stupid things that they regret? Why has society made death such a terrible thing? Why am I such a moron?!
~Vicey
A few months ago my 12 1/2 year old yellow lab, Shelby, lost the equilibrium on her left side and had to be rushed to the emergency vet. She made a surprisingly fast recovery, although the bloodwork showed an abnormally high liver count, but from then on, things just started spiraling downhill.
She had always had a slight cough (more like a hak though), but now it was getting much worse. She had arthritis in her back legs and had trouble going up and down stairs, and that began to get worse too. And then I started noticing other things-- you know how the dogs eyes glow such a pretty green in certain lighting? Well, on the side that she had lost her equilibrium on, it glowed red. And when we took her for walks, her back paws would knuckle and she wouldn't even notice. Then her front legs started to weaken, she would fall unexpectedly. But we helped her through all of these-- supported her on the stairs, made sure she had lots of water, and loved her-- and she was as happy as she had always been.
But Sunday showed some warning signs. Her bowel movements were orange, and had been since the day before, and it wasn't changing. She refused meals. The night before she had so much trouble breathing that my parent's couldn't sleep. We noticed that the white of her right eye wasn't white anymore, it was coated in blood. And Sunday afternoon, after a very rough hakking, there was bloody mucus on the carpet.
We scheduled an appointment for Monday. 5'o clock. I was the only one home, so I drove her to the vet. My dad met us there. And then the vet took us into the exam room.
He did a test. He knuckled both her back paws and she didn't even notice. He informed us that this meant the leg problem was neutological and was bound to get worse, and no arthritis meds would help. The bloody eye and bloody mucus either meant something was bleeding in, or bleeding out, or even that she had anemia. And the orange poop would be a sign of liver disease.
Me and my dad just looked at each other, we knew it would come to this but neither of us were prepared-- this was the first time my family had been through a pet death, and Shelby was like a little sister to me, a daughter to my parents...but we couldn't let her suffer any longer. We made the decision then-- this was it. It was Shelby's time.
But then the vet asked the question, if we would like to be with her when she was euthanized. I couldn't handle it. I was about to burst into tears and had to get out of the building-- the pain I felt, I couldn't handle it. At the time, there was no way that I would have been able to go back there with her as she died, I would have had to ask them to euthanize ME as well, that's how upset I was.
So I hugged Shelby, told her she was a good girl, and said my goodbye. I was a coward. I couldn't stay. I left my dad in that room and I left, drove off, to an empty school parking lot where I cried like a baby for a whole hour. It turned out my dad couldn't go back with her either-- and then the day after came.
And now that it's two days later, I hate myself. Why couldn't I go back there with my little sister? Why couldn't I comfort her in her last moments? I hate myself for being such a coward, so afraid of death, but now I would give anything to turn back time and be with her, hold her as she took her final breath. This guilt is going to eat me alive-- I'm taking melatonin supplements to sleep, moping through each day, all I can think about is how stupid I was for not going back there with her, and instead I ran away.
I know it'll heal over time, but jesus christ. Why are humans so prone to doing stupid things that they regret? Why has society made death such a terrible thing? Why am I such a moron?!
~Vicey