Hi
I chose to have my 21 year old baby put to sleep on Sunday morning
Ireally think I made the wrong descision and Icant get my head round it at all
Apart from being stone deaf and a bit "weak" in the back legs she was amazing for her age. She had well controlled hyperthyroidism and very early kidney problms.
She was the cleanest most personality filled cat ever (I know I am biased)
She has had ups and downs with three episodes of dehydration overthe last couple of years the last atChristmans when some shots and subcutanous fluid sorted her out.
I always told my vet that at her age iwould not had invasivetreatment for her if she failed.
Since Christmas she has seemed really well eating well (in her fussy way) very vocal, and to me happy.
Then on Wed she just"wasnt right" she had been sick a couple of times (but she did that quite often anyway) I decided to take her to see my vet. She gave her an opiate painkiller and some more subcutaneous fluid and took bloods and told me the painkiller would maybe zonk her out so not to be too worried.
All night she was in a terrible way, standing over herwater and just swaying. She was much the same the next day although she got to hertray and had a bit of tuna and some treats. I didnt take her back as i thought it was the painkillers.
On Friday morning she had been sick again, it was in her fur and she hadnt tried to clean herself.
I walked for ages, really upset beacuse i thought it was the end.
I rang the vet to see what her bloods were and told them i did not want to take her in just to have her put to sleep in hospital if she was failing in her kidneys and I would ratherthey came home to her.
They said the bloods were OK apart from a high wjite blood count and I should take her in.
She had 2 days in and they said she was a bit brighter but very unhappy and miserable and that she may perk up a bit if i took her home as some cats get depressed in hospital but that i shpuld go and see what i thought.
When I got there they had her in a basket and got her out, she said hello to me but her eyes looked so bewildered and her legs so unsteady.
they would not advise me what to do, to take her home or have her put to sleep and said she needed a scan to see if she had lymphoma.
i was in such a state i decided to put her to sleep in caseshe did not get better when i took her home and had to take her back again.
Now I am deranged with guilt. She may have perked up at home and she may have looked so bad because of the meds and being so unhappy.
I wish i had gone away at least to think about it.
Also i didnt go in to visit her the day before and that might have made her better
Please excuse the long text but |I wondered if anyone else had been trhough a situation like this when the course of action was so unclear, and how they coped with their descision
Happy to gone in half a week seems so dreadful.
Full Version: Guilt
Hi Wendyanne,
My Dzambala left me 11 days ago from similar kidney-related problems. I've wracked my brain looking for answers, wondering if I had given him a little more of one med, or a little less of the other, or started him on the potassium supplement right away, or first taken him to the vet a month or even a week earlier, or this or that, or, or, or... Would he have gotten through the crisis and be maintainable with CRF for longer? The real answer is I don't know, and without running potentially another $1000 worth of tests, what I would have found out would have done little to improve his chances, only to ease my desire to know, while putting him through the stress of yet more tests.
I felt really cheated because in the last 48 hours before his passing, he seemed to turn a corner. He had crashed from dehydration so I'd taken him into the vet for IV fluids. He had gotten to the stage of not eating or drinking or even being able to keep anything down, he wasn't lifting his head, responded to me only when I touched him or picked him up, and my other cat had taken over washing him. When I picked him up two days later, he was so happy to see me he was practically falling over nuzzling me and talking so much he quickly made himself hoarse. He was back to his assertively affectionate self, and was in my lap non-stop for the final two days of his life.
The image seared into my memory is him jumping up on the bed when I turned in for the night the second to last time, going straight for my face to give a head butt. He gave me a look that I interpreted as tough resolve, determination to continue being Dzambala whatever it took. It is amazing to think that despite the kind of suffering he must have been going through, his entire drive was to love and be loved right up until the end.
For me, my main way of coping has been to reason with myself that I did everything I could. It would be nice to be omniscient and know exactly what to do, but lacking that we go on the limited knowledge and information available to us. It's not for lack of trying to get it right. At some point there is another factor, call it luck or fate, that is out of our hands. I approach a lot of things in life with a problem-solving mentality, built from years of scientific training. It pains me to recognize that the life of the creature who meant the most to me, in the end was one code I couldn't crack. I've gradually started to see that what really mattered was that I was willing to give everything I could to do the right thing for him, to care for him, and to be fully present with him moment by moment.
My Dzambala left me 11 days ago from similar kidney-related problems. I've wracked my brain looking for answers, wondering if I had given him a little more of one med, or a little less of the other, or started him on the potassium supplement right away, or first taken him to the vet a month or even a week earlier, or this or that, or, or, or... Would he have gotten through the crisis and be maintainable with CRF for longer? The real answer is I don't know, and without running potentially another $1000 worth of tests, what I would have found out would have done little to improve his chances, only to ease my desire to know, while putting him through the stress of yet more tests.
I felt really cheated because in the last 48 hours before his passing, he seemed to turn a corner. He had crashed from dehydration so I'd taken him into the vet for IV fluids. He had gotten to the stage of not eating or drinking or even being able to keep anything down, he wasn't lifting his head, responded to me only when I touched him or picked him up, and my other cat had taken over washing him. When I picked him up two days later, he was so happy to see me he was practically falling over nuzzling me and talking so much he quickly made himself hoarse. He was back to his assertively affectionate self, and was in my lap non-stop for the final two days of his life.
The image seared into my memory is him jumping up on the bed when I turned in for the night the second to last time, going straight for my face to give a head butt. He gave me a look that I interpreted as tough resolve, determination to continue being Dzambala whatever it took. It is amazing to think that despite the kind of suffering he must have been going through, his entire drive was to love and be loved right up until the end.
For me, my main way of coping has been to reason with myself that I did everything I could. It would be nice to be omniscient and know exactly what to do, but lacking that we go on the limited knowledge and information available to us. It's not for lack of trying to get it right. At some point there is another factor, call it luck or fate, that is out of our hands. I approach a lot of things in life with a problem-solving mentality, built from years of scientific training. It pains me to recognize that the life of the creature who meant the most to me, in the end was one code I couldn't crack. I've gradually started to see that what really mattered was that I was willing to give everything I could to do the right thing for him, to care for him, and to be fully present with him moment by moment.
Dear Wendyanne
First, I am SO sorry about the passing of your friend of an amazing 21 years. That alone must be wrenching. My Gretta's passing (April 10) was mysterious as you describe. Gretta is the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived. I adopted her as a rescue dog at age nine and we had three and a half of the most wonderful years of life together. She was always borderline Cushing's - which was mostly a horrid doubt lodged in my mind by an emergency vet I had to take her to out first weekend together - she'd eaten a whole pound of grapes! She had old-dog ailments - hypothyroidism which caused thinning fur on her sides. And at one point about a year before her passing, she developed a limp in her right front shoulder. My wonderful vet - who trained a U Penn (where barbaro the horse was treated) and who is the world's gentlest man - from Ghana, examined her and said from the outside he was almost sure it was shoulder bone cancer. That almost ripped my heart apart, because of course we weren't going to open the joint and insert a metal replacement - on an 11 year old dog. He did a whole bunch of x-rays which turned out to be absolutely clean! Whew! But the limp, although it got better with pain meds and anti-inflammatories, came back again after about a year. Back to the vet, more x-rays, more "nothing", more pain meds and much shorter walks. (We'd been doing 3 miles a day.) Slowly, over the next year, our walks got down to 4 block 4 times a day. Plus she had started "leaking" since she'd obviously had many litters of puppies. The last block got slower and slower until one Saturday, on the 10 Am walk, we hardly made it home. She'd been slow but OK on the 5 AM walk. By three PM all she could do was to stand up. For a couple of days before that, she'd been circling a large bamboo chest that we use as a coffee table (not a good sign - almost always a neurological problem). And her last night at home it seemed like she couldn't lie down. Of course dumbo here would periodically slide her down on her side and she would sleep for a while. At 3 PM Saturday I asked one of my neighbors to help me get her in the car (66#) and drove to the University of Minnesota Vet School Emergency Clinic. They took her out of the car and into an examining room (they don't let you go in whith them there). Eventually they came out and said she was in pretty severe pain but they didn't know what it was from. Most likely some kind of neurological problem. Her stance was very peculiar and she had trouble lying down. Now comes the part that I will feel guilty about for the rest of my life: i was afraid to take her home, afraid I wouldn't be able to take care of her, so I asked them to keep her overnight. They gave her antiseizure medicine which is sometimes used to treat nerve pain, took a bunch more x-rays, etc. and finally the next morning at 10 AM they called me. By this time she hadn't urinated for over 24 hours - almost 36 - which told me that this was indeed the end. They talked about MRI, surgery, etc. but I said no, not on a dog this old, especially when we didn't actually know what the root of the problem was. I went into that adrenline emergency mode, drove to the vet school, asked to see my dog and said, yes, it's time - which it was. We went into a special 'comfort room' and I held her in my arms and lap, cried into her precious fur, told her over and over how much I loved her ... and then she was gone. They lifeted her into the the little red wagon they'd used to transport her and then I made my second mistake. I asked to see her face just one more time. That image will haunt me until the day I die. I had the records sent to my regular vet and some day later I went to visit him to talk about what had happened. He never di figure it out exactly. The best we could do was some kind of neurological collapse. How's that for a diagnosis! I come from a medical family, so it's really hurtful not to be able to have a 'real' diagnosis. But it wouldn't have done any good. I did everything, EVERYTHING I could healthsie for Gretta. I used to joke that I could always tell when the vet's son's medical school tuition was due cuz she'd have to have some ungodly expensive procedure done. I have those two big regrets that still hurt me very much, because at least one of them, leaving her in the hospital all alone with strangers, was because of my own cowardice. Looking at her face for one last time was done out of love, but it, too, still hurts a lot.
I've come a long way in my grief journey - Lightening Strike has helped a lot as had my new adopted doggie, Rufus, a 102 # black lab/newfie mix (the new animal decision is another big story for everyone here).
Rufus is psychic - he can always tell when I'm crying as I type. He comes over and sticks his big-boy nose between me and the keyboard and doesn't give up until I do.
WendyAnne, apologies for the long and winding post. It's the "could I have" and the "if only I had" and the "how could I be so heartless" thoughts that slice your heart. They're not true. I did my level best and then some for Gretta and you did your level best and then some for your special soul-mate. whoever made the universe made their life spans much shorter than ours - and if we love them, we're in for a big hurt when they go on before us into the Perfect World. It's the price of love .... and OH is it worth it!!!!
Take care of yourself tonight (if it's night where you are).
Gretta's mom
First, I am SO sorry about the passing of your friend of an amazing 21 years. That alone must be wrenching. My Gretta's passing (April 10) was mysterious as you describe. Gretta is the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived. I adopted her as a rescue dog at age nine and we had three and a half of the most wonderful years of life together. She was always borderline Cushing's - which was mostly a horrid doubt lodged in my mind by an emergency vet I had to take her to out first weekend together - she'd eaten a whole pound of grapes! She had old-dog ailments - hypothyroidism which caused thinning fur on her sides. And at one point about a year before her passing, she developed a limp in her right front shoulder. My wonderful vet - who trained a U Penn (where barbaro the horse was treated) and who is the world's gentlest man - from Ghana, examined her and said from the outside he was almost sure it was shoulder bone cancer. That almost ripped my heart apart, because of course we weren't going to open the joint and insert a metal replacement - on an 11 year old dog. He did a whole bunch of x-rays which turned out to be absolutely clean! Whew! But the limp, although it got better with pain meds and anti-inflammatories, came back again after about a year. Back to the vet, more x-rays, more "nothing", more pain meds and much shorter walks. (We'd been doing 3 miles a day.) Slowly, over the next year, our walks got down to 4 block 4 times a day. Plus she had started "leaking" since she'd obviously had many litters of puppies. The last block got slower and slower until one Saturday, on the 10 Am walk, we hardly made it home. She'd been slow but OK on the 5 AM walk. By three PM all she could do was to stand up. For a couple of days before that, she'd been circling a large bamboo chest that we use as a coffee table (not a good sign - almost always a neurological problem). And her last night at home it seemed like she couldn't lie down. Of course dumbo here would periodically slide her down on her side and she would sleep for a while. At 3 PM Saturday I asked one of my neighbors to help me get her in the car (66#) and drove to the University of Minnesota Vet School Emergency Clinic. They took her out of the car and into an examining room (they don't let you go in whith them there). Eventually they came out and said she was in pretty severe pain but they didn't know what it was from. Most likely some kind of neurological problem. Her stance was very peculiar and she had trouble lying down. Now comes the part that I will feel guilty about for the rest of my life: i was afraid to take her home, afraid I wouldn't be able to take care of her, so I asked them to keep her overnight. They gave her antiseizure medicine which is sometimes used to treat nerve pain, took a bunch more x-rays, etc. and finally the next morning at 10 AM they called me. By this time she hadn't urinated for over 24 hours - almost 36 - which told me that this was indeed the end. They talked about MRI, surgery, etc. but I said no, not on a dog this old, especially when we didn't actually know what the root of the problem was. I went into that adrenline emergency mode, drove to the vet school, asked to see my dog and said, yes, it's time - which it was. We went into a special 'comfort room' and I held her in my arms and lap, cried into her precious fur, told her over and over how much I loved her ... and then she was gone. They lifeted her into the the little red wagon they'd used to transport her and then I made my second mistake. I asked to see her face just one more time. That image will haunt me until the day I die. I had the records sent to my regular vet and some day later I went to visit him to talk about what had happened. He never di figure it out exactly. The best we could do was some kind of neurological collapse. How's that for a diagnosis! I come from a medical family, so it's really hurtful not to be able to have a 'real' diagnosis. But it wouldn't have done any good. I did everything, EVERYTHING I could healthsie for Gretta. I used to joke that I could always tell when the vet's son's medical school tuition was due cuz she'd have to have some ungodly expensive procedure done. I have those two big regrets that still hurt me very much, because at least one of them, leaving her in the hospital all alone with strangers, was because of my own cowardice. Looking at her face for one last time was done out of love, but it, too, still hurts a lot.
I've come a long way in my grief journey - Lightening Strike has helped a lot as had my new adopted doggie, Rufus, a 102 # black lab/newfie mix (the new animal decision is another big story for everyone here).
Rufus is psychic - he can always tell when I'm crying as I type. He comes over and sticks his big-boy nose between me and the keyboard and doesn't give up until I do.
WendyAnne, apologies for the long and winding post. It's the "could I have" and the "if only I had" and the "how could I be so heartless" thoughts that slice your heart. They're not true. I did my level best and then some for Gretta and you did your level best and then some for your special soul-mate. whoever made the universe made their life spans much shorter than ours - and if we love them, we're in for a big hurt when they go on before us into the Perfect World. It's the price of love .... and OH is it worth it!!!!
Take care of yourself tonight (if it's night where you are).
Gretta's mom
QUOTE (Gretta's Mom @ Jul 7 2011, 02:39 AM) 
Dear Wendyanne
First, I am SO sorry about the passing of your friend of an amazing 21 years. That alone must be wrenching. My Gretta's passing (April 10) was mysterious as you describe. Gretta is the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived. I adopted her as a rescue dog at age nine and we had three and a half of the most wonderful years of life together. She was always borderline Cushing's - which was mostly a horrid doubt lodged in my mind by an emergency vet I had to take her to out first weekend together - she'd eaten a whole pound of grapes! She had old-dog ailments - hypothyroidism which caused thinning fur on her sides. And at one point about a year before her passing, she developed a limp in her right front shoulder. My wonderful vet - who trained a U Penn (where barbaro the horse was treated) and who is the world's gentlest man - from Ghana, examined her and said from the outside he was almost sure it was shoulder bone cancer. That almost ripped my heart apart, because of course we weren't going to open the joint and insert a metal replacement - on an 11 year old dog. He did a whole bunch of x-rays which turned out to be absolutely clean! Whew! But the limp, although it got better with pain meds and anti-inflammatories, came back again after about a year. Back to the vet, more x-rays, more "nothing", more pain meds and much shorter walks. (We'd been doing 3 miles a day.) Slowly, over the next year, our walks got down to 4 block 4 times a day. Plus she had started "leaking" since she'd obviously had many litters of puppies. The last block got slower and slower until one Saturday, on the 10 Am walk, we hardly made it home. She'd been slow but OK on the 5 AM walk. By three PM all she could do was to stand up. For a couple of days before that, she'd been circling a large bamboo chest that we use as a coffee table (not a good sign - almost always a neurological problem). And her last night at home it seemed like she couldn't lie down. Of course dumbo here would periodically slide her down on her side and she would sleep for a while. At 3 PM Saturday I asked one of my neighbors to help me get her in the car (66#) and drove to the University of Minnesota Vet School Emergency Clinic. They took her out of the car and into an examining room (they don't let you go in whith them there). Eventually they came out and said she was in pretty severe pain but they didn't know what it was from. Most likely some kind of neurological problem. Her stance was very peculiar and she had trouble lying down. Now comes the part that I will feel guilty about for the rest of my life: i was afraid to take her home, afraid I wouldn't be able to take care of her, so I asked them to keep her overnight. They gave her antiseizure medicine which is sometimes used to treat nerve pain, took a bunch more x-rays, etc. and finally the next morning at 10 AM they called me. By this time she hadn't urinated for over 24 hours - almost 36 - which told me that this was indeed the end. They talked about MRI, surgery, etc. but I said no, not on a dog this old, especially when we didn't actually know what the root of the problem was. I went into that adrenline emergency mode, drove to the vet school, asked to see my dog and said, yes, it's time - which it was. We went into a special 'comfort room' and I held her in my arms and lap, cried into her precious fur, told her over and over how much I loved her ... and then she was gone. They lifeted her into the the little red wagon they'd used to transport her and then I made my second mistake. I asked to see her face just one more time. That image will haunt me until the day I die. I had the records sent to my regular vet and some day later I went to visit him to talk about what had happened. He never di figure it out exactly. The best we could do was some kind of neurological collapse. How's that for a diagnosis! I come from a medical family, so it's really hurtful not to be able to have a 'real' diagnosis. But it wouldn't have done any good. I did everything, EVERYTHING I could healthsie for Gretta. I used to joke that I could always tell when the vet's son's medical school tuition was due cuz she'd have to have some ungodly expensive procedure done. I have those two big regrets that still hurt me very much, because at least one of them, leaving her in the hospital all alone with strangers, was because of my own cowardice. Looking at her face for one last time was done out of love, but it, too, still hurts a lot.
I've come a long way in my grief journey - Lightening Strike has helped a lot as had my new adopted doggie, Rufus, a 102 # black lab/newfie mix (the new animal decision is another big story for everyone here).
Rufus is psychic - he can always tell when I'm crying as I type. He comes over and sticks his big-boy nose between me and the keyboard and doesn't give up until I do.
WendyAnne, apologies for the long and winding post. It's the "could I have" and the "if only I had" and the "how could I be so heartless" thoughts that slice your heart. They're not true. I did my level best and then some for Gretta and you did your level best and then some for your special soul-mate. whoever made the universe made their life spans much shorter than ours - and if we love them, we're in for a big hurt when they go on before us into the Perfect World. It's the price of love .... and OH is it worth it!!!!
Take care of yourself tonight (if it's night where you are).
Gretta's mom
First, I am SO sorry about the passing of your friend of an amazing 21 years. That alone must be wrenching. My Gretta's passing (April 10) was mysterious as you describe. Gretta is the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived. I adopted her as a rescue dog at age nine and we had three and a half of the most wonderful years of life together. She was always borderline Cushing's - which was mostly a horrid doubt lodged in my mind by an emergency vet I had to take her to out first weekend together - she'd eaten a whole pound of grapes! She had old-dog ailments - hypothyroidism which caused thinning fur on her sides. And at one point about a year before her passing, she developed a limp in her right front shoulder. My wonderful vet - who trained a U Penn (where barbaro the horse was treated) and who is the world's gentlest man - from Ghana, examined her and said from the outside he was almost sure it was shoulder bone cancer. That almost ripped my heart apart, because of course we weren't going to open the joint and insert a metal replacement - on an 11 year old dog. He did a whole bunch of x-rays which turned out to be absolutely clean! Whew! But the limp, although it got better with pain meds and anti-inflammatories, came back again after about a year. Back to the vet, more x-rays, more "nothing", more pain meds and much shorter walks. (We'd been doing 3 miles a day.) Slowly, over the next year, our walks got down to 4 block 4 times a day. Plus she had started "leaking" since she'd obviously had many litters of puppies. The last block got slower and slower until one Saturday, on the 10 Am walk, we hardly made it home. She'd been slow but OK on the 5 AM walk. By three PM all she could do was to stand up. For a couple of days before that, she'd been circling a large bamboo chest that we use as a coffee table (not a good sign - almost always a neurological problem). And her last night at home it seemed like she couldn't lie down. Of course dumbo here would periodically slide her down on her side and she would sleep for a while. At 3 PM Saturday I asked one of my neighbors to help me get her in the car (66#) and drove to the University of Minnesota Vet School Emergency Clinic. They took her out of the car and into an examining room (they don't let you go in whith them there). Eventually they came out and said she was in pretty severe pain but they didn't know what it was from. Most likely some kind of neurological problem. Her stance was very peculiar and she had trouble lying down. Now comes the part that I will feel guilty about for the rest of my life: i was afraid to take her home, afraid I wouldn't be able to take care of her, so I asked them to keep her overnight. They gave her antiseizure medicine which is sometimes used to treat nerve pain, took a bunch more x-rays, etc. and finally the next morning at 10 AM they called me. By this time she hadn't urinated for over 24 hours - almost 36 - which told me that this was indeed the end. They talked about MRI, surgery, etc. but I said no, not on a dog this old, especially when we didn't actually know what the root of the problem was. I went into that adrenline emergency mode, drove to the vet school, asked to see my dog and said, yes, it's time - which it was. We went into a special 'comfort room' and I held her in my arms and lap, cried into her precious fur, told her over and over how much I loved her ... and then she was gone. They lifeted her into the the little red wagon they'd used to transport her and then I made my second mistake. I asked to see her face just one more time. That image will haunt me until the day I die. I had the records sent to my regular vet and some day later I went to visit him to talk about what had happened. He never di figure it out exactly. The best we could do was some kind of neurological collapse. How's that for a diagnosis! I come from a medical family, so it's really hurtful not to be able to have a 'real' diagnosis. But it wouldn't have done any good. I did everything, EVERYTHING I could healthsie for Gretta. I used to joke that I could always tell when the vet's son's medical school tuition was due cuz she'd have to have some ungodly expensive procedure done. I have those two big regrets that still hurt me very much, because at least one of them, leaving her in the hospital all alone with strangers, was because of my own cowardice. Looking at her face for one last time was done out of love, but it, too, still hurts a lot.
I've come a long way in my grief journey - Lightening Strike has helped a lot as had my new adopted doggie, Rufus, a 102 # black lab/newfie mix (the new animal decision is another big story for everyone here).
Rufus is psychic - he can always tell when I'm crying as I type. He comes over and sticks his big-boy nose between me and the keyboard and doesn't give up until I do.
WendyAnne, apologies for the long and winding post. It's the "could I have" and the "if only I had" and the "how could I be so heartless" thoughts that slice your heart. They're not true. I did my level best and then some for Gretta and you did your level best and then some for your special soul-mate. whoever made the universe made their life spans much shorter than ours - and if we love them, we're in for a big hurt when they go on before us into the Perfect World. It's the price of love .... and OH is it worth it!!!!
Take care of yourself tonight (if it's night where you are).
Gretta's mom
QUOTE (Gretta's Mom @ Jul 7 2011, 02:39 AM)
Dear Wendyanne
First, I am SO sorry about the passing of your friend of an amazing 21 years. That alone must be wrenching. My Gretta's passing (April 10) was mysterious as you describe. Gretta is the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived. I adopted her as a rescue dog at age nine and we had three and a half of the most wonderful years of life together. She was always borderline Cushing's - which was mostly a horrid doubt lodged in my mind by an emergency vet I had to take her to out first weekend together - she'd eaten a whole pound of grapes! She had old-dog ailments - hypothyroidism which caused thinning fur on her sides. And at one point about a year before her passing, she developed a limp in her right front shoulder. My wonderful vet - who trained a U Penn (where barbaro the horse was treated) and who is the world's gentlest man - from Ghana, examined her and said from the outside he was almost sure it was shoulder bone cancer. That almost ripped my heart apart, because of course we weren't going to open the joint and insert a metal replacement - on an 11 year old dog. He did a whole bunch of x-rays which turned out to be absolutely clean! Whew! But the limp, although it got better with pain meds and anti-inflammatories, came back again after about a year. Back to the vet, more x-rays, more "nothing", more pain meds and much shorter walks. (We'd been doing 3 miles a day.) Slowly, over the next year, our walks got down to 4 block 4 times a day. Plus she had started "leaking" since she'd obviously had many litters of puppies. The last block got slower and slower until one Saturday, on the 10 Am walk, we hardly made it home. She'd been slow but OK on the 5 AM walk. By three PM all she could do was to stand up. For a couple of days before that, she'd been circling a large bamboo chest that we use as a coffee table (not a good sign - almost always a neurological problem). And her last night at home it seemed like she couldn't lie down. Of course dumbo here would periodically slide her down on her side and she would sleep for a while. At 3 PM Saturday I asked one of my neighbors to help me get her in the car (66#) and drove to the University of Minnesota Vet School Emergency Clinic. They took her out of the car and into an examining room (they don't let you go in whith them there). Eventually they came out and said she was in pretty severe pain but they didn't know what it was from. Most likely some kind of neurological problem. Her stance was very peculiar and she had trouble lying down. Now comes the part that I will feel guilty about for the rest of my life: i was afraid to take her home, afraid I wouldn't be able to take care of her, so I asked them to keep her overnight. They gave her antiseizure medicine which is sometimes used to treat nerve pain, took a bunch more x-rays, etc. and finally the next morning at 10 AM they called me. By this time she hadn't urinated for over 24 hours - almost 36 - which told me that this was indeed the end. They talked about MRI, surgery, etc. but I said no, not on a dog this old, especially when we didn't actually know what the root of the problem was. I went into that adrenline emergency mode, drove to the vet school, asked to see my dog and said, yes, it's time - which it was. We went into a special 'comfort room' and I held her in my arms and lap, cried into her precious fur, told her over and over how much I loved her ... and then she was gone. They lifeted her into the the little red wagon they'd used to transport her and then I made my second mistake. I asked to see her face just one more time. That image will haunt me until the day I die. I had the records sent to my regular vet and some day later I went to visit him to talk about what had happened. He never di figure it out exactly. The best we could do was some kind of neurological collapse. How's that for a diagnosis! I come from a medical family, so it's really hurtful not to be able to have a 'real' diagnosis. But it wouldn't have done any good. I did everything, EVERYTHING I could healthsie for Gretta. I used to joke that I could always tell when the vet's son's medical school tuition was due cuz she'd have to have some ungodly expensive procedure done. I have those two big regrets that still hurt me very much, because at least one of them, leaving her in the hospital all alone with strangers, was because of my own cowardice. Looking at her face for one last time was done out of love, but it, too, still hurts a lot.
I've come a long way in my grief journey - Lightening Strike has helped a lot as had my new adopted doggie, Rufus, a 102 # black lab/newfie mix (the new animal decision is another big story for everyone here).
Rufus is psychic - he can always tell when I'm crying as I type. He comes over and sticks his big-boy nose between me and the keyboard and doesn't give up until I do.
WendyAnne, apologies for the long and winding post. It's the "could I have" and the "if only I had" and the "how could I be so heartless" thoughts that slice your heart. They're not true. I did my level best and then some for Gretta and you did your level best and then some for your special soul-mate. whoever made the universe made their life spans much shorter than ours - and if we love them, we're in for a big hurt when they go on before us into the Perfect World. It's the price of love .... and OH is it worth it!!!!
Take care of yourself tonight (if it's night where you are).
Gretta's mom
First, I am SO sorry about the passing of your friend of an amazing 21 years. That alone must be wrenching. My Gretta's passing (April 10) was mysterious as you describe. Gretta is the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived. I adopted her as a rescue dog at age nine and we had three and a half of the most wonderful years of life together. She was always borderline Cushing's - which was mostly a horrid doubt lodged in my mind by an emergency vet I had to take her to out first weekend together - she'd eaten a whole pound of grapes! She had old-dog ailments - hypothyroidism which caused thinning fur on her sides. And at one point about a year before her passing, she developed a limp in her right front shoulder. My wonderful vet - who trained a U Penn (where barbaro the horse was treated) and who is the world's gentlest man - from Ghana, examined her and said from the outside he was almost sure it was shoulder bone cancer. That almost ripped my heart apart, because of course we weren't going to open the joint and insert a metal replacement - on an 11 year old dog. He did a whole bunch of x-rays which turned out to be absolutely clean! Whew! But the limp, although it got better with pain meds and anti-inflammatories, came back again after about a year. Back to the vet, more x-rays, more "nothing", more pain meds and much shorter walks. (We'd been doing 3 miles a day.) Slowly, over the next year, our walks got down to 4 block 4 times a day. Plus she had started "leaking" since she'd obviously had many litters of puppies. The last block got slower and slower until one Saturday, on the 10 Am walk, we hardly made it home. She'd been slow but OK on the 5 AM walk. By three PM all she could do was to stand up. For a couple of days before that, she'd been circling a large bamboo chest that we use as a coffee table (not a good sign - almost always a neurological problem). And her last night at home it seemed like she couldn't lie down. Of course dumbo here would periodically slide her down on her side and she would sleep for a while. At 3 PM Saturday I asked one of my neighbors to help me get her in the car (66#) and drove to the University of Minnesota Vet School Emergency Clinic. They took her out of the car and into an examining room (they don't let you go in whith them there). Eventually they came out and said she was in pretty severe pain but they didn't know what it was from. Most likely some kind of neurological problem. Her stance was very peculiar and she had trouble lying down. Now comes the part that I will feel guilty about for the rest of my life: i was afraid to take her home, afraid I wouldn't be able to take care of her, so I asked them to keep her overnight. They gave her antiseizure medicine which is sometimes used to treat nerve pain, took a bunch more x-rays, etc. and finally the next morning at 10 AM they called me. By this time she hadn't urinated for over 24 hours - almost 36 - which told me that this was indeed the end. They talked about MRI, surgery, etc. but I said no, not on a dog this old, especially when we didn't actually know what the root of the problem was. I went into that adrenline emergency mode, drove to the vet school, asked to see my dog and said, yes, it's time - which it was. We went into a special 'comfort room' and I held her in my arms and lap, cried into her precious fur, told her over and over how much I loved her ... and then she was gone. They lifeted her into the the little red wagon they'd used to transport her and then I made my second mistake. I asked to see her face just one more time. That image will haunt me until the day I die. I had the records sent to my regular vet and some day later I went to visit him to talk about what had happened. He never di figure it out exactly. The best we could do was some kind of neurological collapse. How's that for a diagnosis! I come from a medical family, so it's really hurtful not to be able to have a 'real' diagnosis. But it wouldn't have done any good. I did everything, EVERYTHING I could healthsie for Gretta. I used to joke that I could always tell when the vet's son's medical school tuition was due cuz she'd have to have some ungodly expensive procedure done. I have those two big regrets that still hurt me very much, because at least one of them, leaving her in the hospital all alone with strangers, was because of my own cowardice. Looking at her face for one last time was done out of love, but it, too, still hurts a lot.
I've come a long way in my grief journey - Lightening Strike has helped a lot as had my new adopted doggie, Rufus, a 102 # black lab/newfie mix (the new animal decision is another big story for everyone here).
Rufus is psychic - he can always tell when I'm crying as I type. He comes over and sticks his big-boy nose between me and the keyboard and doesn't give up until I do.
WendyAnne, apologies for the long and winding post. It's the "could I have" and the "if only I had" and the "how could I be so heartless" thoughts that slice your heart. They're not true. I did my level best and then some for Gretta and you did your level best and then some for your special soul-mate. whoever made the universe made their life spans much shorter than ours - and if we love them, we're in for a big hurt when they go on before us into the Perfect World. It's the price of love .... and OH is it worth it!!!!
Take care of yourself tonight (if it's night where you are).
Gretta's mom
Thank you for your kind replies
I just wish that I had brought her home to see if she had perked up and got better on her own following the rehydration, and I can help wondering if she looked so badbecause of the medications for pain. My last memories of herare sick at home, then knowing she was alone and "messed about with" for days on her own in hospital, then killed. Hercatheter blocked between getting her from the hospital to the surgery and wouldnt flush so they euthanased her in her tummy - she didnt seem to feel it but it all seems so messy and horrible. I also wonder if I overreacted on the first day of her seeming unwell (but not really unwell) and that if i hadnt taken her in then none of this would have happened.
I mids her so much, she had the biggest personality. When she was younger she wpuld walk to the pub with us and walk around the lounge bar wailing at everyone, and she came shopping with me and sat 0utside till id finished. She thought she was "people". i am sure all my friends and family think i am insane
I just wish that I had brought her home to see if she had perked up and got better on her own following the rehydration, and I can help wondering if she looked so badbecause of the medications for pain. My last memories of herare sick at home, then knowing she was alone and "messed about with" for days on her own in hospital, then killed. Hercatheter blocked between getting her from the hospital to the surgery and wouldnt flush so they euthanased her in her tummy - she didnt seem to feel it but it all seems so messy and horrible. I also wonder if I overreacted on the first day of her seeming unwell (but not really unwell) and that if i hadnt taken her in then none of this would have happened.
I mids her so much, she had the biggest personality. When she was younger she wpuld walk to the pub with us and walk around the lounge bar wailing at everyone, and she came shopping with me and sat 0utside till id finished. She thought she was "people". i am sure all my friends and family think i am insane
Hello again Wendyanne,
I don't know if you had been doing a lot of reading on feline CRF, but I think some of the information out on the web gives the impression that the prognosis is much better than is often the reality. This is probably simply because you mainly get to read about the better cases, where people actually had the opportunity to work out a long term treatment program for their cats. It would be natural not to hear as much about the less fortunate cases, partly because people didn't spend as much time with their cats so they simply wouldn't have had time to have much to say, and partly because they likely want to put the bad experience behind them.
It seems that a lot of time, especially when there are complicating factors like other chronic conditions or other urinary tract problems, the condition can actually progress very quickly. In the case of Dzambala, he was only 7, and when I took him in to the vet a month before he died, his kidney values were only marginally high, and he presented with symptoms of lower urinary tract disorder, so it wasn't clear whether the kidney values represented a real problem with his kidneys or an upstream effect of the other issues. But his condition deteriorated pretty rapidly.
The first warning sign that I really paid attention to was weight loss, and I only noticed that a month earlier. If I'd been looking for the condition, I probably would have noted excessive thirst and urination a few months prior to that. All told, he probably lived with symptomatic CRF for less than 5 months. And those first symptoms were subtle, the kind of thing you wouldn't really notice unless you were looking for it, especially with another cat in the house to confuse matters.
He brightened up quite a bit after that IV treatment in his final week. I was going all in, giving him SQ fluids at home along with pain reliever, smooth muscle relaxant to help with straining, famotidine for stomach acid, mirtazapine for appetite, and was about to start syringe feeding KD with added potassium, but didn't get the chance. His case was looking really optimistic from when I dropped him off, brought him home, and through the first 30-36 hours or so thereafter. In some ways, the medications may have hastened his end, but if he'd been strong enough to have a chance at a good quality of life, that probably would not have been the case.
So I am telling you this to let you know: from the information you gave it sounds like you did the right thing. It is never easy to let go, so it is a gift of great selflessness to end their suffering at the right time. Maybe you would have had a few more days, maybe there was a remote chance of a miracle. Then again, you could have had very little time left anyway, and your intuition was likely correct that you may well have been rushing her to the vet in even worse condition.
We will always find ways to second guess (and third and fourth). But you did the best you could, and probably spared your baby girl immense suffering as a result. It will never feel right, it isn't fair, but healing will come little by little.
Peace,
Chris
I don't know if you had been doing a lot of reading on feline CRF, but I think some of the information out on the web gives the impression that the prognosis is much better than is often the reality. This is probably simply because you mainly get to read about the better cases, where people actually had the opportunity to work out a long term treatment program for their cats. It would be natural not to hear as much about the less fortunate cases, partly because people didn't spend as much time with their cats so they simply wouldn't have had time to have much to say, and partly because they likely want to put the bad experience behind them.
It seems that a lot of time, especially when there are complicating factors like other chronic conditions or other urinary tract problems, the condition can actually progress very quickly. In the case of Dzambala, he was only 7, and when I took him in to the vet a month before he died, his kidney values were only marginally high, and he presented with symptoms of lower urinary tract disorder, so it wasn't clear whether the kidney values represented a real problem with his kidneys or an upstream effect of the other issues. But his condition deteriorated pretty rapidly.
The first warning sign that I really paid attention to was weight loss, and I only noticed that a month earlier. If I'd been looking for the condition, I probably would have noted excessive thirst and urination a few months prior to that. All told, he probably lived with symptomatic CRF for less than 5 months. And those first symptoms were subtle, the kind of thing you wouldn't really notice unless you were looking for it, especially with another cat in the house to confuse matters.
He brightened up quite a bit after that IV treatment in his final week. I was going all in, giving him SQ fluids at home along with pain reliever, smooth muscle relaxant to help with straining, famotidine for stomach acid, mirtazapine for appetite, and was about to start syringe feeding KD with added potassium, but didn't get the chance. His case was looking really optimistic from when I dropped him off, brought him home, and through the first 30-36 hours or so thereafter. In some ways, the medications may have hastened his end, but if he'd been strong enough to have a chance at a good quality of life, that probably would not have been the case.
So I am telling you this to let you know: from the information you gave it sounds like you did the right thing. It is never easy to let go, so it is a gift of great selflessness to end their suffering at the right time. Maybe you would have had a few more days, maybe there was a remote chance of a miracle. Then again, you could have had very little time left anyway, and your intuition was likely correct that you may well have been rushing her to the vet in even worse condition.
We will always find ways to second guess (and third and fourth). But you did the best you could, and probably spared your baby girl immense suffering as a result. It will never feel right, it isn't fair, but healing will come little by little.
Peace,
Chris
QUOTE (ChrisL @ Jul 7 2011, 10:55 AM)
Hello again Wendyanne,
I don't know if you had been doing a lot of reading on feline CRF, but I think some of the information out on the web gives the impression that the prognosis is much better than is often the reality. This is probably simply because you mainly get to read about the better cases, where people actually had the opportunity to work out a long term treatment program for their cats. It would be natural not to hear as much about the less fortunate cases, partly because people didn't spend as much time with their cats so they simply wouldn't have had time to have much to say, and partly because they likely want to put the bad experience behind them.
It seems that a lot of time, especially when there are complicating factors like other chronic conditions or other urinary tract problems, the condition can actually progress very quickly. In the case of Dzambala, he was only 7, and when I took him in to the vet a month before he died, his kidney values were only marginally high, and he presented with symptoms of lower urinary tract disorder, so it wasn't clear whether the kidney values represented a real problem with his kidneys or an upstream effect of the other issues. But his condition deteriorated pretty rapidly.
The first warning sign that I really paid attention to was weight loss, and I only noticed that a month earlier. If I'd been looking for the condition, I probably would have noted excessive thirst and urination a few months prior to that. All told, he probably lived with symptomatic CRF for less than 5 months. And those first symptoms were subtle, the kind of thing you wouldn't really notice unless you were looking for it, especially with another cat in the house to confuse matters.
He brightened up quite a bit after that IV treatment in his final week. I was going all in, giving him SQ fluids at home along with pain reliever, smooth muscle relaxant to help with straining, famotidine for stomach acid, mirtazapine for appetite, and was about to start syringe feeding KD with added potassium, but didn't get the chance. His case was looking really optimistic from when I dropped him off, brought him home, and through the first 30-36 hours or so thereafter. In some ways, the medications may have hastened his end, but if he'd been strong enough to have a chance at a good quality of life, that probably would not have been the case.
So I am telling you this to let you know: from the information you gave it sounds like you did the right thing. It is never easy to let go, so it is a gift of great selflessness to end their suffering at the right time. Maybe you would have had a few more days, maybe there was a remote chance of a miracle. Then again, you could have had very little time left anyway, and your intuition was likely correct that you may well have been rushing her to the vet in even worse condition.
We will always find ways to second guess (and third and fourth). But you did the best you could, and probably spared your baby girl immense suffering as a result. It will never feel right, it isn't fair, but healing will come little by little.
Peace,
Chris
I don't know if you had been doing a lot of reading on feline CRF, but I think some of the information out on the web gives the impression that the prognosis is much better than is often the reality. This is probably simply because you mainly get to read about the better cases, where people actually had the opportunity to work out a long term treatment program for their cats. It would be natural not to hear as much about the less fortunate cases, partly because people didn't spend as much time with their cats so they simply wouldn't have had time to have much to say, and partly because they likely want to put the bad experience behind them.
It seems that a lot of time, especially when there are complicating factors like other chronic conditions or other urinary tract problems, the condition can actually progress very quickly. In the case of Dzambala, he was only 7, and when I took him in to the vet a month before he died, his kidney values were only marginally high, and he presented with symptoms of lower urinary tract disorder, so it wasn't clear whether the kidney values represented a real problem with his kidneys or an upstream effect of the other issues. But his condition deteriorated pretty rapidly.
The first warning sign that I really paid attention to was weight loss, and I only noticed that a month earlier. If I'd been looking for the condition, I probably would have noted excessive thirst and urination a few months prior to that. All told, he probably lived with symptomatic CRF for less than 5 months. And those first symptoms were subtle, the kind of thing you wouldn't really notice unless you were looking for it, especially with another cat in the house to confuse matters.
He brightened up quite a bit after that IV treatment in his final week. I was going all in, giving him SQ fluids at home along with pain reliever, smooth muscle relaxant to help with straining, famotidine for stomach acid, mirtazapine for appetite, and was about to start syringe feeding KD with added potassium, but didn't get the chance. His case was looking really optimistic from when I dropped him off, brought him home, and through the first 30-36 hours or so thereafter. In some ways, the medications may have hastened his end, but if he'd been strong enough to have a chance at a good quality of life, that probably would not have been the case.
So I am telling you this to let you know: from the information you gave it sounds like you did the right thing. It is never easy to let go, so it is a gift of great selflessness to end their suffering at the right time. Maybe you would have had a few more days, maybe there was a remote chance of a miracle. Then again, you could have had very little time left anyway, and your intuition was likely correct that you may well have been rushing her to the vet in even worse condition.
We will always find ways to second guess (and third and fourth). But you did the best you could, and probably spared your baby girl immense suffering as a result. It will never feel right, it isn't fair, but healing will come little by little.
Peace,
Chris
Thank you Chris
I had a lovely hand written card from my own vet (who sadly was not there when Phoebe went) saying that she had no doubt that i had done the right thing. that does make me feel a lot better. I know I should be grateful to have had her for so long when others like you, dont get so much time. I do miss her old lady purr, she couldnt do it properly, it was half purr and half wheeze, and she saved it only for bed times!
I had a lovely hand written card from my own vet (who sadly was not there when Phoebe went) saying that she had no doubt that i had done the right thing. that does make me feel a lot better. I know I should be grateful to have had her for so long when others like you, dont get so much time. I do miss her old lady purr, she couldnt do it properly, it was half purr and half wheeze, and she saved it only for bed times!
Hi, Wendyanne, please permit me to add my sincerest sympathies in the loss of your beloved Phoebe. Losing a beloved companion is never easy regardless of the circumstances or how long we are blessed with the privilege of their company. It doesn't matter if it's our first experience of loss or our thousandth - - this grief adjustment journey is always painful - - both emotionally and physically. Unfortunately guilt is one of the components of this grief journey and can be one of the hardest to reconcile. Hopefully in time you will come to know what each of us here already knows from reading your posts: You always did the very best for your precious Phoebe with the information you had at the moment. And you made the most difficult decision from the deepest depths of your love for your precious Phoebe at a time when it was the most crucial: You released your precious Phoebe from her failing physical body so that she can be restored to her former youthfulness in the company of the angels. Your beloved Phoebe is eternally grateful for this most unselfish act of love. In return for all your love and devotion over the many years with your earthly journey wtih Phoebe you are now blessed with the gift of the eternal love bond that is never restricted to the physical laws of time and space. Love is eternal, Wendyanne, and your precious Phoebe's sweet Living Spirit is forever with you in your heart and your memories - - she continues to share your earthly journey as she always has and always will. She is always and forever a heartbeat close to you.
I am so glad you got a card from your vet affirming the decision you made for your precious Phoebe. Please believe me when I say there is never - - never ever - - a "good" time to have to make "the decision" to release our beloved companions from their physical bodies. It always hurts, Phoebe. The good news is that in time this seering pain that is in your heart right now will ease and you will begin to be able to smile when you think of your precious Phoebe. But this just takes time, - - healing time - - one day at a time. Unfortunately there is no "fast forward" or "delete" button that can take this grief adjustment journey away. This grief journey is frequently referred to as a horror roller coaster ride, particularly during the deep grief. This is one of the many reasons why it is so important for you to know you are not alone in your grief journey. Each of us here do understand what you are going through, and we are here for you for as long and as often as you need us. You are among friends here, Wendyanne.
I hope what I have shared with you will bring you some hope and encouragement and comfort, Wendyanne. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.
Peace and blessings,
moon_beam
I am so glad you got a card from your vet affirming the decision you made for your precious Phoebe. Please believe me when I say there is never - - never ever - - a "good" time to have to make "the decision" to release our beloved companions from their physical bodies. It always hurts, Phoebe. The good news is that in time this seering pain that is in your heart right now will ease and you will begin to be able to smile when you think of your precious Phoebe. But this just takes time, - - healing time - - one day at a time. Unfortunately there is no "fast forward" or "delete" button that can take this grief adjustment journey away. This grief journey is frequently referred to as a horror roller coaster ride, particularly during the deep grief. This is one of the many reasons why it is so important for you to know you are not alone in your grief journey. Each of us here do understand what you are going through, and we are here for you for as long and as often as you need us. You are among friends here, Wendyanne.
I hope what I have shared with you will bring you some hope and encouragement and comfort, Wendyanne. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.
Peace and blessings,
moon_beam
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