by
Lisa L.
Member since:
August 8, 2006 Gentle honesty in the face of death
January 30, 2007 12:05 AM EST
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comments: 8
Sometimes I forget that I'm older than the majority of the students I go to school with. I just assume they're all older, and as such, have had to deal with all manner of trials and tribulations of growing older. I forget that for the most part...they're kids. Many of them fresh out of high school. They don't have the life experiences that I've had. They haven't quite come to the realization that what we do in this program..what we will do out in practice..is make life and death decisions for owners who can't, or won't, make it themselves. Now...realistically, we can't tell someone what to do with their pets. We can't tell them that the smartest thing to do is to euthanize their pet. All we can do is tell them what we'd do if we were in their place, and how we'd want our pets treated if it was us. Tonight one of the new students learned that lesson the hard way. I'm not sure what the girl's name is...she's first quarter, and I've not really had time to get to know the names of most of those new students. I do, however, know that her dog is named Winston and that he's an 11 year old pug. I also know that Winston picked a fight with the neighbor's dog, who is of undetermined breed, but from all accounts, outweighs Winston by at least 75 pounds. I think it goes without saying that this was never a fight that Winston stood any chance of winning. Most importantly, I know that Winston's owner can't afford to take him to the emergency veterinary clinic, so she brought him to school in hopes that we could do something. Little dogs are prone to shock faster than some larger breeds so the first thing we did was get a couple large bore IV's into both of his front legs. We hung a bag of ringers, and loaded Winston up with drugs. Drugs to keep his heart rate up. Drugs to keep his respiratory rate up. Drugs to dull the pain. Drugs to sedate him, so he'd be less upset about all the strange hands poking and prodding him. His wounds were extensive. Lots of missing skin and exposed muscle. His right ear was completely torn off and his right eye was popped out of the socket, which tells me that the bigger dog had Winston's head in his mouth. The outside injuries could be dealt with providing the x-rays showed no major damage. While we waited for the films to be developed, Winston crashed. It wasn't unexpected, but we had hoped that we could keep him on the good side until we'd seen the films. Fortune laughs when you make wishes like that. So we intubated Winston and got him hooked up to the anesthesia machine which pulls double duty as a ventilator in emergency situations. We pumped more drugs into him. Drugs to protect his heart, drugs to protect his brain. Drugs to ward off seizures. The radiographs are bad. Easily a dozen broken bones, including ribs, which we suspect have lacerated his spleen. Judging from the large dark spaces in the pleural cavity, we suspect Winston is also fighting a pneumothorax. Someone has to talk to Winston's mom and tell her what's going on. Someone with a soft touch who can tell her the important stuff that she needs to know to make an informed decision. They look at me. Me? The queen of crass? The student voted 'Most likely to offend everyone'? Why are they looking at me? But I go. I tell her that Winston is in rough shape. I explain about the air in the chest. I tell her about the broken bones, some of which will require a transfer to the U for orthopedic surgery. I tell her about how he's got a machine breathing for him and how if we, and I stress the word IF, how if we can get him stabilized, it's still no guarantee that he'll survive. She cries. I tell her that she needs to make some decisions. She sobs. I tell her that I can completely understand how hard this is. How I had to make these same decisions for my own pet just a few weeks ago. She tries to reason with me..."But he's been my best friend for 11 years. Isn't there something you can do?" I tell her that we've tried everything we can here, in this place. She cries. She looks at me, the pleading in her voice almost tangible, "What should I do?" I tell her that I can't make that decision for her, but that if it were my pet, I'd want to do what's best for him. Do I want my elderly dog to suffer through numerous surgeries and long, painful recoveries? Am I willing to make him suffer through that just so that I don't have to make such a hard decision? She tells me to have DB euthanize Winston. I ask her if she wants to be there. She says she does, so I lead her into the surgery suite where we have Winston laid out on the table. Some of the other girls have cleaned up his wounds and have cleaned the blood out of his fur. DB comes in with the solution and asks if I want to give it. I nod. As I press the plunger, I explain to Winston's owner that he's not going to wake up. That by giving this while he's unconscious, he'll just slip away. She strokes him, head on his head, her mouth grazing the edge of his ear as she whispers to him. In a few seconds, my stethoscope tells me that Winston is gone. I reach over and turn off the ventilator. I deflate the cuff on the ET tube and remove it from Winston's throat. I remove the IVs and replace the vet wrap over the area where the catheter was. I wrap Winston in a towel and help the student put him back into the carrier she brought him in. She hugs me. She cries. She thanks me for everything. She leaves. And I cry. I cry because I can understand exactly what she's feeling. I cry because I can understand exactly how much it hurts. Mostly though, I cry because I know how much it meant to her to have me be a gentle, honest force in the face of death. And I'm proud I was able to be that for her. 
To Groups:
IMMATURE AND SILLY STUFF TO MAKE GROWN PEOPLE CHUCKLE CLUB, Words and Language, This & That, Moments, What's on your Mind, Your Group, Wisdom In Ink, SOMETHING NEW EVERYDAY, First Time Writers., Confused about which/what article to post where? Post it here!, Pains and Gains, Crazy About Pets, Type and post What You want AND dont get Deleted!, Animal Crackers, Pit Bull Lovers, Post What You Want Base, Post what doesn't FIT anywhere else!, Pet World, Slices of Life, No Fighting, Whining or Putting Things Down, Nonconformists, The Posting Station
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Comments: 8
THE RAINBOW BRIDGE
There is a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth.
It is called the Rainbow Bridge because of its many colors. Just this side of the Rainbow Bridge is a land of meadows, hills and valleys, all of it covered with lush green grass.
When a beloved pet dies, the pet goes to this lovely land. There is always food and water and warm Spring weather. There, the old and frail animals are young again. Those who are maimed are mad whole one more. They play all day with each other, content and comfortable.
There is only one thing missing. They are not with the special person who loved them on Earth. So, each day they run and play until the day comes when one suddenly stops playing and looks up! Then the nose twitches, the ears are up! They eyes are staring! You have been seen, and then one suddenly runs from the group!
You take him or her in your arms and embrace. Your face is kissed again and again and again and you look once more into the eyes of your trusting pet.
Then together, you cross the Rainbow Bridge, never again to be separated.
Thanks for the nice words. Sometimes I seriously wonder if I made the right decision going back to school at my age...but then I have days like yesterday that make it very clear that I did. Thanks again.
One part that continues to sadden me are irresponsible owners who cannot afford proper vet care and when something happens to their pet, they brought it to the emergency clinic to be put down. Accidents can and will happen!
Pets require medical care just like people do; if you are not prepared for the expense you may want to get a fish or something.