athenix
04-18-2003, 10:48 PM
I hate to bring a downer in here like this, and I hope this isn't "off topic" as it's pretty over and done with, but I've been struggling with this for the past few weeks and wanted to see if anyone else had been through this. Warning: it's long. Apologies if it's innapropriate.
Less than two months ago, my parents commented randomly in conversation that Maggie was kind of "off her feed"; they attributed this to finickiness and said that they would monitor her. My immediate reaction was "vet! vet!", but they decided against it, and as I haven't been living at home for 2+ years, I had no say in the matter.
A month ago, my mother was late picking me up for lunch and explained that she had taken Maggie to the vet, as she had refused food and seemed lethargic. I later found out that she had been having breathing problems accompanying the finicky eating habits (had I known about this previously, I would have found a way to get myself down there and get her to the vet). This was Saturday. The vet kept her for observation as she had a fever of 105*, and x-rays showed a general cloudiness and very tiny mass in the lungs. Liver counts weren't too good, and he had a bad feeling, but wanted to get an infection that was present cleared up before going any farther.
He sent her home Monday with instructions to check temperature twice daily, "spoil her rotten" with food, and just love her to death. Follow up x-rays were scheduled for the next Monday if her condition didn't worsen. Reports from home indicated that she loved the specially prepared meals and seemed to be perking up.
Thursday night (again, I later found out), when my mother went in for her 4am pill, Maggie seemed to not want her to leave and was breathing more and more unsteadily. She thought she may have been dying... later on she went in and slept on my father's bed for a while. Here's the first question. Could she have been dying, but upon realizing that I wasn't there, held on until I could see her? I know, that's silly, but while it would bring more sadness, it may also bring comfort... not sure, she could have just been having a bad night.
In light of this, my parents had me come down Friday evening/night to visit with her (I did not know that she was potentially dying at this point, or at any point afterwards). My parents commented that she was a changed dog. She did things that she hadn't been feeling up to lately (ran after me barking when I went upstairs as she loved to do, barked her head off at the mailman, got up in her special chair, insisted that I take her for a walk) and just generally seemed in better spirits. The next night (Sunday) I called and was told that she seemed much better.
Sunday night seemed to be "the" night. When my mother woke up the next morning she found that Mags had thrown up the 4am pill and hadn't even moved her head. Her eyes had just "lost her joy". The vet visit was that day. Follow up x-rays showed that the suspected diagnosis of cancer was so and it had literally taken over her body - the mass in the lungs had tripled, the cloudy area had completely obscured her heart, it had gotten into her marrow and lymph nodes. Lightly put, there was absolutely nothing we could do, and he said that he wouldn't be surprised if she went that night, and if she went naturally, it would be a crisis: she would bleed out and literally suffocate. I know we did the right thing. He sent my mother home to call me and she went back to have it done; she said that during the fifteen minutes that she spent just walking around the grounds beforehand, you could really tell that there was none of that Golden joy left in her, and she was ready.
Now, here are my questions:
1. I've been going through this incredible amount of guilt that I didn't push my parents at the very beginning to have her seen by the vet (who, by the way, is a truly wonderful soul and really cared for her; we were lucky). Everyone that I've talked to has said that all it would have done is let us know that there was a major problem and that the cancer was moving so quickly it only would have made the last month we had with her worrisome and sad. But still... I'm just wracked with guilt that I didn't do something, and maybe I could have.
2. It really seems as though she deteriorated overnight. Has anyone else experienced that? It seems incredible, but in a way I'm thankful for that, as she didn't suffer until the very end, and for most of that time, she was sedated.
3. This is more grief-related, but instead of the image of her dying peacefully, surrounded by two people that she loved (my mother and her vet), I see her instead bleeding out as would have happened... blood everywhere, and I just can't shake this image. I know that's not how it happened, but... will that ever go away? They say it fades with time; will that?
4. Maybe this is another one of those "it might help" questions, but... is it possible that my visiting helped make her last days great ones? The vet says that that's just an indication of how much she loved me and what I meant to her. I had given her back a stuffed toy that she really loved (Puppy... who had accidentally been in my possession since I moved out, as she stuck in it my suitcase) and reportedly she never left it alone. Puppy is now safe in my bed, where, although she's been washed, she still carries reminders of Maggie.
Note: I don't mean to make my parents out as neglectful owners - they did everything they could for her and I firmly believe that if they had honestly felt there to be a serious problem from the beginning, they would have gone straight to the vet. They loved that dog (possibly more than me!) and I imagine are feeling her loss just as deeply as I am. This, I'm sure, is one of those five stages of grieving bits where I'm beating myself up over "what might have been, but almost definitely wouldn't have". And I don't blame them one bit for keeping little bits of information from me. The entire time I knew she wasn't eating very well, I was worried, and the only word to describe my condition that last week was distraught - calling every night and trying to think up excuses to call ("hey, Dad, I got that insurance form, so should I mail it or wait? oh, and by the way, how's the pup?"). In fact, I'm glad that they did, because I really enjoyed and cherished that last bit of time I got to spend with her; it had a sad tone to it, but wasn't near as bad as it would have been had I thought she was dying (which, again, no one knew at the time).
I apologize for the length and down-tone of this post, and hope it's not too irrelevant. I guess I've just reached the end of my patience with keeping wide awake at night and am thinking that maybe (well, knowing) I'm not alone, and while I doubt there will ever be a cure, perhaps knowing that and having a few educated guesses as to my questions will help me sleep and bring those happy memories back into the lead.
And no, I'm not normally this sappy-sad-immature :)
Less than two months ago, my parents commented randomly in conversation that Maggie was kind of "off her feed"; they attributed this to finickiness and said that they would monitor her. My immediate reaction was "vet! vet!", but they decided against it, and as I haven't been living at home for 2+ years, I had no say in the matter.
A month ago, my mother was late picking me up for lunch and explained that she had taken Maggie to the vet, as she had refused food and seemed lethargic. I later found out that she had been having breathing problems accompanying the finicky eating habits (had I known about this previously, I would have found a way to get myself down there and get her to the vet). This was Saturday. The vet kept her for observation as she had a fever of 105*, and x-rays showed a general cloudiness and very tiny mass in the lungs. Liver counts weren't too good, and he had a bad feeling, but wanted to get an infection that was present cleared up before going any farther.
He sent her home Monday with instructions to check temperature twice daily, "spoil her rotten" with food, and just love her to death. Follow up x-rays were scheduled for the next Monday if her condition didn't worsen. Reports from home indicated that she loved the specially prepared meals and seemed to be perking up.
Thursday night (again, I later found out), when my mother went in for her 4am pill, Maggie seemed to not want her to leave and was breathing more and more unsteadily. She thought she may have been dying... later on she went in and slept on my father's bed for a while. Here's the first question. Could she have been dying, but upon realizing that I wasn't there, held on until I could see her? I know, that's silly, but while it would bring more sadness, it may also bring comfort... not sure, she could have just been having a bad night.
In light of this, my parents had me come down Friday evening/night to visit with her (I did not know that she was potentially dying at this point, or at any point afterwards). My parents commented that she was a changed dog. She did things that she hadn't been feeling up to lately (ran after me barking when I went upstairs as she loved to do, barked her head off at the mailman, got up in her special chair, insisted that I take her for a walk) and just generally seemed in better spirits. The next night (Sunday) I called and was told that she seemed much better.
Sunday night seemed to be "the" night. When my mother woke up the next morning she found that Mags had thrown up the 4am pill and hadn't even moved her head. Her eyes had just "lost her joy". The vet visit was that day. Follow up x-rays showed that the suspected diagnosis of cancer was so and it had literally taken over her body - the mass in the lungs had tripled, the cloudy area had completely obscured her heart, it had gotten into her marrow and lymph nodes. Lightly put, there was absolutely nothing we could do, and he said that he wouldn't be surprised if she went that night, and if she went naturally, it would be a crisis: she would bleed out and literally suffocate. I know we did the right thing. He sent my mother home to call me and she went back to have it done; she said that during the fifteen minutes that she spent just walking around the grounds beforehand, you could really tell that there was none of that Golden joy left in her, and she was ready.
Now, here are my questions:
1. I've been going through this incredible amount of guilt that I didn't push my parents at the very beginning to have her seen by the vet (who, by the way, is a truly wonderful soul and really cared for her; we were lucky). Everyone that I've talked to has said that all it would have done is let us know that there was a major problem and that the cancer was moving so quickly it only would have made the last month we had with her worrisome and sad. But still... I'm just wracked with guilt that I didn't do something, and maybe I could have.
2. It really seems as though she deteriorated overnight. Has anyone else experienced that? It seems incredible, but in a way I'm thankful for that, as she didn't suffer until the very end, and for most of that time, she was sedated.
3. This is more grief-related, but instead of the image of her dying peacefully, surrounded by two people that she loved (my mother and her vet), I see her instead bleeding out as would have happened... blood everywhere, and I just can't shake this image. I know that's not how it happened, but... will that ever go away? They say it fades with time; will that?
4. Maybe this is another one of those "it might help" questions, but... is it possible that my visiting helped make her last days great ones? The vet says that that's just an indication of how much she loved me and what I meant to her. I had given her back a stuffed toy that she really loved (Puppy... who had accidentally been in my possession since I moved out, as she stuck in it my suitcase) and reportedly she never left it alone. Puppy is now safe in my bed, where, although she's been washed, she still carries reminders of Maggie.
Note: I don't mean to make my parents out as neglectful owners - they did everything they could for her and I firmly believe that if they had honestly felt there to be a serious problem from the beginning, they would have gone straight to the vet. They loved that dog (possibly more than me!) and I imagine are feeling her loss just as deeply as I am. This, I'm sure, is one of those five stages of grieving bits where I'm beating myself up over "what might have been, but almost definitely wouldn't have". And I don't blame them one bit for keeping little bits of information from me. The entire time I knew she wasn't eating very well, I was worried, and the only word to describe my condition that last week was distraught - calling every night and trying to think up excuses to call ("hey, Dad, I got that insurance form, so should I mail it or wait? oh, and by the way, how's the pup?"). In fact, I'm glad that they did, because I really enjoyed and cherished that last bit of time I got to spend with her; it had a sad tone to it, but wasn't near as bad as it would have been had I thought she was dying (which, again, no one knew at the time).
I apologize for the length and down-tone of this post, and hope it's not too irrelevant. I guess I've just reached the end of my patience with keeping wide awake at night and am thinking that maybe (well, knowing) I'm not alone, and while I doubt there will ever be a cure, perhaps knowing that and having a few educated guesses as to my questions will help me sleep and bring those happy memories back into the lead.
And no, I'm not normally this sappy-sad-immature :)