Anger Options

[I miss mouses]

I have been awesome lately. I have a lifetime to grieve the loss of my kitty, so I put it on hold for a couple of weeks (2 weeks is really long in mourning-land). I was only able to think of her if it made me smile. I put the medical what if's to the side...and felt somewhat normal for the first time.

Today I woke up angry...I haven't really explored this side of grief, but today I'am. Maybe I had a bad dream, I don't know. Anyway...I was thinking about "the day." I was remembering what the vet at the ER was like. She was very calm and comforting, but not all that helpful. She explained to me that day that most people come to them and think it is like the ER vets on animal planet, thinking their pet will be saved. She said the sad fact is, when pets are at the ER it is usually their time to go (being that animals hide their pain for too long).

I guess I am angry today, because I was thinking of all the losses on these types of sites, and now feel like vets suck!! Can they save anyone? We bring in our pets...they are STILL HERE. We hand over our precious babies, begging them to fix whatever is wrong. We just want to go home with our pet. Why can't they do better? I keep picturing us all at the vets putting all of our hope and faith into these doctors. Why couldn't they just do it? I can't believe my vet told me Mouses would just sit in there for a week, cost me a ton of money, and then leave me anyway. Honest I guess...I was looking for hope...all I wanted was a chance at trying to save my cat. Instead they made me feel guilty when I talked about leaving her there to try and stabilize her for surgery. I know Mouses wouldn't have made it, but I wish she would of died with us trying. I feel like I just accepted it was to late, and didn't even try. I owed her that much!!

Anyone else angry at the vets? Do you think they do all they can? Some cases seem so simple, why can't they do better? The worst part is...I went back to Mouses regular vet days after, and he told me the ER vets mostly see death, so they have no hope left. They deal with statistics, and have zero hope left. I wish I left my cat with the hopeful doctor.

Just venting...hating the mourning process today. You can cry, scream, think and think, freak out, but nothing changes anything. We are missing what made us feel better. They were the ones who helped us get through stuff like this. It is such a horrible feeling. You cry, scream, and process until you go numb. It gets you nowhere...it is driving me mad!! I just keep walking around in a daze...she was just here. I feel like it is the day after...when all you keep feeling is THEY WERE JUST HERE. I was just petting her...just looking at her...she was right there on our pillow. I hate death today! One giant step backwards today. Just realized it's Friday...makes more sense now. Friday was the day my nightmare started. Weekends are painful. She re-dies EVERY sunday.

[Jess]

Hey Chris. I've been thinking about you and wondering how you're doing. At first, I was mad at my vet. They seemed to be very grim about the whole situation right from the beginning and would not give me any shred of hope. When we first found out Sydney was in kidney failure, they told us that chances were not good that she will recover. I was shocked. Completely shocked. Two days ago she had been vibrant and perfectly healthy. What they hell did they mean chances were not good?? When we went to visit her at the vet, I said to the tech, "There's a chance she'll recover, right?" She said to me, "Her numbers are really high." So I said, "Yeah, but there's a chance, right?" And again, all she would say to me was, "Her numbers are really high."

I was pissed. I felt like they obviously thought there was a chance, otherwise they would have told me the day I brought her in that there was no hope . . . right? Then I started wondering if they were just trying to get money out of me by letting me keep her there for a week. But I was so distracted by everything that that thought didn't linger for too long. Up until this point, I had trusted them. Sydney had been going there since she was 5 weeks old. And I knew in my heart that we had to at least try to save her. I couldn't live with myself if we didn't even try.

I know that's what you are struggling with - wondering if you should have done something more. But I will tell you, that week that she spent in the vet was agony for me. (The grief is agony too, but of a different kind.) I felt awful being home, sleeping in our comfortable bed, and going about my daily life knowing she was trapped all alone in that little vet cubicle. She was a very social cat, so I knew she hated being isolated like that. I went to visit her every day and she always looked mad. And when she saw me, she would start meowing, as if to say, "Take me home, mom. Please take me home." I had to tear myself away every day. And when I called after a week and found out that she wasn't improving, I am so glad I decided to take her home to spend her last night with us.

I'm not mad at my vet anymore, but I am mad at the universe. I'm mad that this happened. I feel like she was ripped from my life without my permission. I know life doesn't work like that, but I'm still mad. I know life has to end someday, but I'm so mad that it ended so soon. Why couldn't I just have her for 20 years like I hoped and prayed that I would?? I feel like I will never be able to get past the cruel injustice of that.

~Jessica

P.S. Friday was the day Sydney started to leave us too. I have a tendency to get home from work and immediately get on the computer where I would piss away hours of my life surfing the net. And that particular Friday, it was a beautiful day and I made myself sit outside and enjoy the nice weather and fresh air for at least 10 minutes. Before I knew it, a half hour had passed and I had no desire to get on the computer. The cats were outside, and my husband eventually joined me, and we were enjoying a nice evening. Sydney starting stalking birds as she always did, and we were amazed that this time, she actually caught one. She was so proud. The next day, she started to get sick. And it all went downhill from there.

[I miss mouses]

Hey Chris. I've been thinking about you and wondering how you're doing. At first, I was mad at my vet.

What they hell did they mean chances were not good?? When we went to visit her at the vet, I said to the tech, "There's a chance she'll recover, right?" She said to me, "Her numbers are really high." So I said, "Yeah, but there's a chance, right?" And again, all she would say to me was, "Her numbers are really high."

I was pissed. I felt like they obviously thought there was a chance, otherwise they would have told me the day I brought her in that there was no hope . . . right?
And I knew in my heart that we had to at least try to save her. I couldn't live with myself if we didn't.

I know that's what you are struggling with - wondering if you should have done something more. But I will tell you, that week that she spent in the vet was agony for me.

Hi Jess,
Thanks for thinking of me, and venting with me. I am doing better again. The anger has since subsided...

What happened with you with the vet tech is exactly what Mouses regular vet was talking about. "Her numbers are really high." They deal with statistics, so they lose hope. I know they can get jaded by what they see everyday, but I think they should be trained to give off that they are hopeful. In those situations; without hope, or someone giving us hope we have nothing. I think it is the least they could give us in our time of need. Or if there really is no chance (not just statistically), then just tell us, so we can deal with that. I guess there is no way to win. Mouses first vet was hopeful. The Emergency vet was so grim. I am mad at both of them. I was mad at the ER vet for not just going along with me, I needed her hope. I was hopeful, and I wanted her to be also. It has been said that those who heal have the best attitudes. Those who are surrounded by no hope often die. I believe in that, and I needed the vet to.

On the other hand...when Mouses vet was so hopeful, I instantly got skeptical. By Saturday Mouses really did look like she was on her way out. I kept thinking, is he just after the money, or is he really hopeful? I kept wondering, "is there really hope?" I joined him in his hope, and instantly went into "we can beat this mode." I much prefer his route. He said dogs follow a pattern, but cats always surprise him. He said he never gives up on cats (and he is a dog lover). I would rather Mouses died surrounded by hope and us trying the way your Sydney did. I like to believe Mouses original vet is right. I think Mouses and Sydney had a chance. Especially your Sydney. I am sorry she didn't make it. You did the right thing by giving her a chance. At least you will always know you fought for her...no matter what any vet or tech thinks. We did the best we could with what we knew on those days, not now, but on "those days." Organ failure is hard to recover from, but I still think they should give us hope.

Thanks for sharing what the week was like. I am sorry you had to go through that agony. It is a very confused mixture. Part of the reason we chose to put Mouses to sleep was because of that agony. My Friday night without her was torture. I couldn't eat or sleep. My family was so oblivious, and I was sitting there in agony. I barely slept, I just kept staring at her pillow. I kept running my hand over the empty spot on her pillow. I kept picturing her all alone without me. I was so afraid she would die alone...without me...without her home/comfort zone. I walked away from the ER not just because the ER vet had zero hope (she really thought Mouses wouldn't make it to the morning), and because she was crashing, but because I was more afraid she'd die alone. My original plan was to leave her at the emergency vets for a week to see if her numbers improved. I felt like we owed her that much, and it would give me the peace of knowing we tried, and the peace of knowing if it really was her time. When she wouldn't stabilize Friday and Saturday, I started to lose hope. I didn't know then what I know now. A cat with diabetes and low temp, needs at least 2 weeks to stabilize. I wish I knew that then, but no one said it to me that way. I thought the 2 days of not stabilizing meant something. I wish I could turn back time and at least let her get to the out of surgery part. It is all a no-win situation. You had the week of agony, but at least you know you didn't give up on her. I had the security of knowing she would die with me, but traded it for the agony of never knowing if I lost her her chance to survive/make it to surgery/possibly still be here on chemo right now. I will never know. I am so happy for you that you got to try, AND still bring her home for the last night. You have both. Your lucky!

P.S. I am very sorry for your ending, but I am glad something got you to go outside that day. You got to be with her, and you got a glimpse at what may have changed it all. I am thankful for seeing Mouses fall on Monday. Had she just fallen off the bed un-noticed I may not have ever made it to the vets. If only I used seeing her fall to my advantage and brought her in sooner. Although according to my unhopeful ER vet, it wouldn't have made any difference. She promised me with Mouses high numbers she wouldn't have been stable for surgery even if I had rushed her there on Monday night. I will always wonder though. I will always wonder if making it to surgery was the answer to my prayers.
Chris

[Jess]

You had the week of agony, but at least you know you didn't give up on her. I had the security of knowing she would die with me, but traded it for the agony of never knowing if I lost her her chance to survive/make it to surgery/possibly still be here on chemo right now. I will never know. I am so happy for you that you got to try, AND still bring her home for the last night. You have both. Your lucky!

Perspective is a funny thing. See, to you, I am lucky because I got to try and save her and because we got to take her home for her last night. But to me, you are the lucky one because you had five more years with Mouses than I had with Sydney. I would give anything for five more years with her. When she was alive, five years of life seemed like only a tiny fraction of time. But now it seems like an eternity.

In a way, we are both lucky though because we both have the comfort of knowing that our babies didn't die a violent death. That is the ONE thing I am grateful for in this - that she wasn't hit by a car or mauled by a dog or some other horrible thing. I always had a fear of the house catching fire while we weren't home and the cats being trapped inside. Thank God none of those things happened.

When Sydney was a year old, she got attacked by an animal. We don't know what it was, but she came home with 8 puncture wounds and had to spend almost a week in the vet getting the wounds drained daily. I have thought often about that incident and how badly it could have ended. To this day, we have no idea what happened. My husband was home all day (we only let the cats out during the day when one of us is home) and he never heard anything. She must have wandered off too far, but she was able to get herself away from whatever it was and find her way home to us. It wasn't her time.

When I think about how close we might have come to losing her way back then, I can only be grateful for the six additional years we had together, even though it's only a third of the life I hoped she would live.