I take part in an on-line dog forum. I don't personally know any of the participants, but they have been quite extraordinary in sharing their experience, thoughts and feelings. They've been particularly invaluable to me through Lucy's crises.
The last couple of days I've been struggling with ethics. How do I know when it's right for Lucy to go? Do I wait until she no longer can stand or eat? Do I put her to sleep while she's still functional? She's been panting a lot the last several days—rapid, prolonged panting, and I feel this is a sign of pain, not the prednisone. My husband and I talked about acupuncture over drugs as Lucy is so sensitive to pain killers; they turn her into a zombie. He felt any mitigating care wasn't fair either as it was just prolonging a life that was ready to let go. Yet he couldn't put her to sleep while she was still walking, eating and joining us for baby bike rides. And that too, was my dilemma.
When I posted my concerns and confusion in the dog forum, one wonderful participant sent me a private message offering her story. They chose to put their dog down before pain became his constant companion. Her note clarified my dilemma. It wasn't about me (and my ethical conundrum). It was about Lucy, her comfort and life quality. As a dog owner, you assume their care and well being. No matter how much we love them, the bottom line is their best interest regardless of our pain at losing them. So I talked to my husband about this and told him he needed to prepare himself emotionally for this eventuality...that this weekend may be the time we put her to sleep, if Lucy could wait that long.
Lucy is hard-wired for running. Each weekend we have taken her on baby bike rides of 1-2 miles. Each time she has been willing, eager and able. Walks have not been as enticing for her, so the last several days, she hasn't always been interested in her morning or afternoon outings. When she has gone, the walks have been quite short. The prednisone has kept her hungry, so her appetite is good. Last evening, sometime after she ate, she went into the back yard. For some reason, I felt I needed to watch her. She paced the yard. She looked like she wanted to poop, but couldn't; looked like she was trying to vomit, but couldn't. I rushed out to check on her and found her tummy quite swollen and rock solid and feared bloat. I called the hospital to bring her in. Luckily they were still open, and remained open until we got there. Kate wasn't on duty, but another vet, whom we like, was there along with some of the staff and techs I know well.
Lucy threw up several times in the van and I know she was uncomfortable doing this despite how awful she obviously felt. The techs and vet were wonderful. The vet said it wasn't bloat, but that something was definitely going on in Lucy's abdomen and she offered an xray. Instead, we opted for sleep. Lucy had been given 2-4 weeks to live and had just crested the half-way mark. She wasn't comfortable anymore and had started withdrawing from us. Yes, she might be in the same room, but she wasn't participating, wasn't watching us, wasn't keen on patting anymore.
The vet techs put a big, blanket-covered pad on the floor and a catheter in her back leg so that the drug would go in cleanly.We got down on the floor with her and were able to be with her until the end and then some. It was very fast, but our hearts are broken. She was such a fine, fine hound.
No comments:
Post a Comment