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 much for sharing with us how you're doing. I can relate to your feelings when you share with us: "I was SO sure I had made the right decision to have the surgery. I was convinced I was saving her life, and instead, I ended it!!!" Monique, you made the best decision you could with the information you had at the time from the veterinary care provider. You were in the position ALL of us find ourselves at one time or another as the saying goes "darned if you and darned if you don't." Your decision to give your beloved MacKenzie every opportunity possible was the RIGHT one for the both of you. If you hadn't approved the surgery, then you would now be wondering "what if I had" - - and you would be dealing with a different type of guilt. I hope in time you will be able to find a peace in your heart that your beloved MacKenzie KNOWS you ALWAYS had her best interests at heart with the decisions you made on her behalf.

As I mentioned, I do understand how you're feeling as I have made decisions on behalf of each of my companions - - some of which turned out to be not as promising as I had hoped. When my beloved beautiful feline baby girl Abbygayle was diagnosed with end stage Fibrosarcoma I opted for a series of surgeries to remove the tumors. The first two surgeries went well, and she recovered easily from them. The third surgery, however, was the "final blow" to her spirit. Normally a very docile personality she made it known under no circumstances that she was not pleased with having had another surgery, and I could tell that she was very tired from the ordeal. I promised her no more surgeries, and from that point forward it was a matter of keeping her as happy and comfortable as possible for as long as possible. It was a matter of days after the third surgery before the tumors reappeared - - with a vengeance - - and it was just a matter of weeks when I knew beyond all shadow of a doubt that it was time to release my beautiful baby girl's sweet Living Spirit from her frail, failing physical body. If I had "known" how the third surgery would affect my baby girl I would not have subjected her to it. But I know I did the best I could for her, and I do not have the nagging "what if" to deal with.

Making decisions for our companions who cannot speak to us in a common language is always a challenge. Unfortunately our companions do not come with an "owner's manual" of instructions of what / what no to do for them. Every decision is individually made based on the information we have at any given time. I hope as you travel your grief adjustment journey you will find comfort in your heart from Christine Kane's wise words: ". . . guilt is always available to fill the silent spaces. And it serves no purpose. You find your pet, you love your pet, and you do the best you can. That’s all you can do. That’s what you did."

I hope today is treating you and all your precious companions kindly, Monique, that you will have a peaceful evening blessed with your beloved MacKenzie's and all of your beloved companions' sweet Living Spirits to comfort you, and please let us know how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam