My Precious Albus Options

[Hermy's Mommy]

I apologize for my lengthy post. I am all over the place and rambling.

I am devastated, again. I lost my sweet bunny Albus suddenly on Tuesday, March 24, 2015. He was the most precious little white and gray, mixed Netherland Dwarf and English Spot rabbit. I adopted him (along with his sister Hermione) on June 27, 2008 from a rescue organization when he was 6 weeks old. He was my best friend. I lost his sister, Hermione (Hermy), on November 18, 2011, and it destroyed me.

I shouldn’t have taken Albus to the vet last Friday, March 20, 2015. It was a mistake. I will regret it forever.

Albus was diagnosed with sludgy bladder syndrome on November 19, 2013 and received daily bladder expression and medications until his major bladder surgery on December 11, 2013 for bladder stones. He survived surgery and even thrived over the next 15 months. He tolerated his bi-weekly and monthly follow-up visits well, including x-rays, ultrasounds, and bladder expression. His visit on December 16, 2014 was uneventful, except for a new heart murmur that the vet said was so minor he could live years and years with it. The vet recommended follow-up in 3 months for bladder catheterization under anesthesia.

He was doing so well until the vet saw him on Friday, March 20. He was healthy and active, eating, pooping, peeing, playing, sleeping, running, jumping, taking his medications without complaint, doing everything he loved, eating his lettuce, carrots, banana and watermelon (his favorite!). He was urinating freely and comfortably. He was living life and spending his days as the perfect little bun.

I should have done everything differently. I should have picked up his medications, cancelled the appointment, and gone home with him, still alive and well. The vet examined his entire body and said he was doing well. Then he focused on the bladder, squeezing hard to try to express some urine. Immediately, he reacted with pain. He struggled to escape the vet’s hold on him. He was flailing around in his hands, air-pedaling his legs. The vet pressed harder on his bladder. He tried squeezing as Albus was standing on all fours on the exam table. Nothing came out. He squeezed harder. Albus continued to react with pain. One drop of urine came out.

Albus was left in tremendous pain. He immediately bent over and started to lick his penis, then straightened himself and extended posteriorly to strain to urinate, squeaking very loudly in pain. I asked the vet, “Did you hear that? That was him.” He said he didn’t hear anything. Albus bent over again and again to lick his penis. He strained to urinate over and over again, squeaking quietly while standing on a towel on the exam table. I asked the vet, “Why is he doing this? He has never done this before.” Finally, the vet picked him up and flipped him over. He looked at his penis and said, “He’s fine, but he’ll be sore for a day or two.” He asked his technician when the last ultrasound was done. It was in October. The vet said, “Oh, not that long ago.” Even though Albus was still licking and straining on the exam table, the vet didn’t order an x-ray or ultrasound.

The vet instructed me to schedule bladder catheterization under anesthesia for June and told me to put Albus back into his carrier and leave. Albus was miserable on the ride home, not moving around as usual and shedding tears from one of his eyes. The fur under his left eye was wet.

That night and all day Saturday, Albus didn’t eat or poop. He spent Saturday and Sunday drinking water and straining to urinate, squeaking in pain. I gave him some pain medication Saturday and Sunday. He ate a few small pieces of lettuce Sunday night.

Monday morning, I called the vet’s office at 7:59 a.m. and left a detailed message. He called back around 10:15 a.m. and said, “I heard I messed him up.” I told him Albus was in pain since Friday’s visit and had not eaten or pooped, only drinking water and urinating a little bit. He said, “Sounds like you got him through the weekend.” He recommended surgery for the following day, Tuesday, March 24, at 12:00 noon, telling me to drop Albus off by noon Tuesday. He said even if I dropped him off that day, Albus would just sit in a cage overnight until his surgery at noon. He did not tell me to bring you in for evaluation right away that same day. I should have taken him in anyway. Monday night, Albus ate 3 pieces of lettuce and started to urinate more, although with great pain.

I woke up Tuesday morning around 6:30 a.m. to find Albus hiding under the dining table. He was lying flat against the carpet. He was dying. When I scooped his limp body up into my arms, his head started to lean back slowly and he started to close his eyes. I immediately got into the car and drove him to the vet’s office by 7 a.m.

The technicians started Albus on oxygen and gave him injections of pain medication and muscle relaxant, placing him on a towel and warming pad. They said his rapid breathing and fast heart rate were good signs that he was not slowing down. Albus and I then waited for the vet to arrive at 8 a.m. A different vet came in and immediately discussed euthanasia. I told the vet I want him to try to save Albus. He took Albus to the back of the clinic. After about 15 minutes, the vet came to speak to me but wouldn’t let me see him. He said under anesthesia he drained 15 mL of urine with a needle and then catheterized the bladder but had to stop because he had to intubate him. He couldn’t get an IV in. He again told me to think about euthanasia. At that moment, his technician came running to get him. They ran into the back again. A few minutes later the vet came out and said, ““I’m sorry, the little guy didn’t make it. He went into cardiac arrest.” I wasn’t with my little Albus when he died! I asked to see Albus, but they told me to wait in another room. They brought his body to me wrapped in a towel and let me hold him for a while. Then they took his body, packaged him in a small white cardboard box, sealed with packaging tape, and handed the box to me.

One moment Albus is alive and well. The next moment the vet examines him and dooms him to 4 days of excruciating pain before he dooms him to death. I should not have taken Albus on Friday. I should not have let the vet squeeze his bladder. I should not have gone along with his deferring surgery to June. I should have asked again why Albus was suddenly in pain.

The vet left a voicemail message two days ago, acknowledging and “apologizing” for “instigating the events” that led to Albus’s death. He also said that maybe he should have been more aggressive with managing his condition earlier.

I am devastated, completely heartbroken. I feel so guilty about everything. I should have spent more time with him, given him his favorite treats more often. I cannot stop crying and thinking about him. I know he is gone, but I keep looking for him to be here. He was so full of life, so happy and carefree. How could he be gone now?

Thank you for allowing me to share Albus’s story. I love and miss my little bunny so much.

Hermy and Albus's Mommy

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[Hisae Y]

Hi, Hermy and Albus's Mommy

I did the same thing - Saying "hi, Tama Cat" like I usually said to greet her, and immediatly realizing that she is not longer here. Of course, I went into a sobbing fit right after that...

My sister lost her 19-year old cat on February 22, and my daughter lost her dog (I think he was almost 11 years old) about a year ago, so I have been calling them almost every day when I have my grief attacks. Just having some sympathetic ears have been very comforting and helpful.

My thoughts are with you, Hermy and Albus's Mommy.

Hisae Y.