The Silent Scream Frozen For All Time, MacKenzie, My Angel Options

[Monique]

MacKenzie and her siblings, born feral around Sept 2002, hailed from a local animal services center. Their fate was slim and I decided to take the little family home to tame them and find them homes. MacKenzie was the first of her siblings who tamed and from that first step towards me, she and I were BFFs. Additionally, she started exhibiting many behaviors and mannerisms specific to my cat, Dominoe, who went to heaven in 2000. She even looked like Dominoe. For the last almost 12 years, I had the pleasure and honor to have both my girls by my side.

I lost my beloved MacKenzie, Friday evening, 11 July 2014, right after getting her home from gallbladder removal surgery that Thursday, 10 July. Her health had been failing for about a year and a half. Despite a period of reprieve in 2013, weight loss resumed late last year – early this year, and supportive therapies were having little success. She became very thin again, struggling with in appetence, and generally not participating in life. For the last few months, she moped around the house and mostly slept deep under the bed. To encourage her to eat, I would give her valium and canned food, including AD, to entice her to eat. She would rarely eat without the Valium. The first ultra sound in April 2013, showed a slight shadow in her gallbladder. This past June, the shadow was definitive, thus indicative of a stone or stones. As she was asymptomatic except for this test result, my vet and I decided to resume supportive therapies in March. It was becoming more and more difficult to medicate her. She was not happy; there was a haunting sadness in her eyes. I had not seen her sleep in her favorite spots for months. She remained in a depressed and wasted state.

Supported by my vet, I made the difficult decision for MacKenzie to have this surgery, hoping to restore her health while her vital signs and chemistry results were still good. She championed through the surgery and was recovering well. The gallbladder was removed; the surgeon found a stone the size of a pea (the gallbladder in a cat is only the size of a pecan). When I went to pick her up Friday afternoon, she felt very cold. Her temperature had dropped 5 degrees in about 4 hours, which was the last time her temperature was checked. She was transitioning from IV fluid support to tube feeding and fluids through her feeding tube. Not only was she very cold to the touch when I first saw her, she was weak and unable to walk. I sat with her wrapped in blankets and heating pads for an hour. Her temperature was up by a degree, all vital signs were good. She was still weak and not able to walk without stumbling, but the vet thought she was OK to go home given all the other positive vital signs.

Once home, I settled her in my upstairs bathroom, where I was going to rehabilitate her in the company of a little kitten, Ariel, who is also recovering from trauma. Within an hour MacKenzie was gone. The last time I checked on her, I shifted her position to get her comfortable as I noticed her breathing was a bit raspy. She stretched and took one more breath and was gone. The agony I felt was indescribable.

I have been involved in animal rescue for many years and have a large, mostly aging, multi-species animal household. Unfortunately, loss is a very real and frequent part of my life. Loss is never easy. Some loss is better to process than others; MacKenzie makes 10 for just this year. Losing MacKenzie is as heart wrenching as losing my Molly this past Jan. In many ways, she is my worst loss ever. My heart is broken and my brain is screaming to understand. An autopsy revealed an ailing heart. It is possible she had hypertrophic cardiomyopathy (HCM) and perhaps her heart couldn’t process a blood clot or some residual stress from the surgery/anesthesia. Despite the fact that she championed through the surgery, something happened to cause the sudden death. Biopsy were submitted and provided no answers as to cause of death. They showed secondary organ issues from the malfunctioning gallbladder. Her pancreas was not well, her small intestine was inflamed and infected, her lymph nodes working over time, she was anemic from chronic disease... It has been an insane exercise to try and find answers and meaning while my own heart is barely beating. My will to live is only alive as many at home still depend on me.

I have read and re-read all of the things I have gathered about dealing with loss over the years. I have researched further and found this site and read extensively on it. My heart only aches more, and I now also feel the pain from everyone else.

Since losing MacKenzie, I have been in a silent, agonizing scream, seemingly frozen for all time. It has been only two weeks. I feel in some respects she has been gone forever for all the energy I have expended in cycling endlessly through blame, guilt, shame, anger. Mostly, just the gut-wrenching agony I felt when she slipped away as I tried to ease her position. Her final breath. My silent scream in slow motion. Assaults from very dark places. The futile attempts to revive her... OMG...

I see that painting, The Scream, like a movie reel stuck on one frame. I can't breathe.

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[moon_beam]

Hi, Monique, thank you so very much for sharing with us how you're doing. Please let me try to reassure you that what you are going through is very normal deep grief - - very painful both emotionally and physically, yes, - - still very normal.

I am so very glad you are having support and comfort from some of the people in your life. Although clinical professionals recognize that the grief journey for the physical loss of a beloved companion is the same as for a human family member or friend, sadly our society in general, and sometimes the people who are closest to us emotionally and geographically, do not. This is one of the many reasons why this wonderful forum was developed to be a safe place where we can come to share what is in our hearts and on our minds with those who truly do understand what we are going through. Please know we are here for you for as long and as often as you need us.

Monique, from first hand experience I truly do understand how you have agonized over the events of what happend with your beloved MacKenzie treatment-wise. I went through a similar experience with my beloved number one kitty son Eli several years ago when he was diagnosed with end stage Lymphoma in 2006. That experience taught me many things that saw me through the diagnosis of end stage Fibrosarcoma of my beloved beautiful kitty Abbygayle in 2009. The approach to her treatment was significantly different which included having a more compassionate veterinary care provider overseeing her care. As with human medicine, the same practical advice applies to veterinary medicine: Just because a procedure CAN be done does not mean that it is appropriate for it to be done. There comes a point in time when "quality" of life is the primary focus rather than "quantity" of earthly existence. Coming to this understanding when our hearts are longing for our companions to be restored to good health is not an easy journey. You, Monique, did everything in your power to give your beloved MacKenzie a happy, healthy earthly journey with the information and resources you had at any given time. I'm so very glad your friend Kristine has been able to help you find some peace in your heart.

Scientifc studies prove that every living being has an "energy" and every member of the "unit" benefits from the "energy" provided by each individual member. When a member of the unit is no longer present - - for whatever reason - - the remaining members go through a period of "re-establishing" the "unit" and the accompanying "energy". During this time it can also feel like the structure of the house is also grieving the physical loss of the "unit" member. I'm glad your friend Kristine offers classes that will help you, and others, find a way to refresh your "energy".

I hope today is treating you kindly, Monique, and that you will have a peaceful evening blessed with your beloved MacKenzie's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and please let us know how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam