Tristán And The Good Fight, How Tristán showed me what strength was Options

[alicia_ixchel]

You were always a special boy, Tristan, but your most amazing traits were evident during your hard fought war. 14 months ago you decided you would not be a victim of circumstance, the first attack came and you lost a third of your weight and became severely dehydrated -we fought the doctor and came home with you and your IV, remember? I didn't trust anyone would take care of you as I would-... That's when we started "spooning" it was the only way I could keep you from pulling your IV. I don't think I really decided to keep doing it once the IV was out, it just felt right me holding you each and every night from then on. Slowly but surely, you regained your weight. Then your sight began to fail, very very slowly. I was amazed you were not deterred by it, you learned to walk around, bumped your head a lot but kept going. Then I saw signs of motor communication issues, you were not able to "push reverse", so we made sure you were always allowed a path straightforward. Other issues with your liver and kidney were diagnosed -I am beginning to doubt the doctors were ever right- but you -again- amazed everyone not only surpassing the 2 days to live after the IV but the month they thought you would last after the kidney /liver diagnosis. You were so brave all the while; I don't think I ever saw you sad. I remember sometimes you got scared or confused and called me -that sweet cry you used only for me- until I came and hold you, you were so calm in my arms. Tell you the truth, I don't remember you being so active before; it seems like you decided to take each step you could, you were not gonna take thing lying down. You never ever stopped, not the loss of your sight nor your deteriorating motor skills were ever enough against your spirit, not ever. I remember how you loved your pen, there you could go for miles without stopping for anyone or anything but yourself. I remember watching you through the camera go round and round, and the last few months when I brought it up to my office, oh how I loved to have you near, you seemed happy and content. We had our ups and downs in this war, your motor skills really deteriorated late March, but a change in doctors led us to new meds which seemed to have a Lazarus kind of effect -although the doctor only gave you a month or two more-. I don’t think you ever believed the doctors when they gave you a timetable; maybe you were just to stubborn, maybe you didn’t want to leave me. I believed in you in your strength, so I started researching every natural homeopathic or alternative treatment, everything was made available to you. You truly seemed to get better. You seemed unstoppable, indestructible... You.

Last Wednesday I was freaking out again, you were eating a bit less and having labored breathing in certain positions... But you were walking, that meant you were strong and fighting right?! The doctors -the three of them- said that it was expected and manageable, one thought it was due to a congestion in your forehead the other two a consequence of your cancer pushing on some other nerves. All of them gave you something; only the one with the acupuncture training seemed to relieve your symptoms. I really thought you'd pull through as always, my little fighter. By Friday the other doctors gave you more meds, that afternoon Danny came home from his trip just in time as you were getting worse and we had to take you to the hospital. I didn't wanna leave you there, we had never spent a night apart since this began. I really didn't want to leave you there, but the doctor said this time I couldn't take care of you at home. I came to see you the next morning, I brought you your pillow, you looked tired and a bit out; they said you had fluid in your thorax and had to start taking it out slowly. Definitely couldn't take you home now. I wanted to, I swear. I was so sad that Danny said I should call my mom, which I did; somehow she knew you better and knew you were tired and ready to go. She got on a plane immediately, she loves us that much. She knew but I didn't -maybe I refused to accept you could be done with this "stage", I've been trying to believe this is just a stage after which there's another one to come, I need too-. I came back that afternoon to see you again and stayed another hour by your side, I wanted to be by your side so that you could sleep and get better, you snoozed for a bit. I asked you to let me know if you wanted to let go, I think you tried to stay a bit more in the fight to be with me, thank you for that. I went home with my heart in pieces, almost couldn't drive. Mom finally arrived after almost six hours of airports and planes; she said I should really see what was on your heart, that if you were done fighting I should not make you stay in pain, not for my sake, you had done plenty in these months of bravely fighting the unknown. I had to do this last act of love and exchange your pain for mine, if need be. You should know, Tris, I kept calling since I left you there on Friday to see how you were doing, doctors hated that but I didn't mind. Sunday came and I was already awake, couldn't sleep really. I called again, you were worse; I said I'd come and get you... It was time. I had talked about this possibility to your last doctor; this wouldn't be done in there, not where so much pain was going on, so much noise. No, if I had to let you go you could not be scared, I needed to make sure you felt safe to transition. You needed to be home. I arranged a deal, he'd come home to help when the time came; he couldn't at the last minute, so I made a new deal: I'd do it-"Just give me the shot, I'll sign anything", I said-. I couldn't trade your peace for anything I might feel later, Mom said I had to return all your strength. She's so wise. Danny took care of everything leaving me the opportunity to hold you and assure you that I would keep my promise and make everything better; he was crying all the while, he was so strong for us. You were very sad, as soon as I lifted you your expression changed you haven't been able to see anything but shadows for 3+ months but you knew it was me picking you up in my arms. On the ride home your breath calmed down, you knew we were taking you home. After all the trips of the last months cars are no longer a scary thing for you, my love -heck, you even slept on both airplane rides and our road trips-. I was holding you so close, that ride seemed endless and short at the same time. When we got home I put you on our bed, we all got around you and gave you lot of love, each of us remembered some bit of our time with you. Even your brother Apolo gave you a few licks and stayed by your side the whole time. Your breathing was back to normal and your eyes were almost shut. We were celebrating your amazing and courageous life, how you were able to cope, adapt and thrive after every new obstacle. While we talked, I gave you drops of brown sugar in boiled water that Danny made for you -he remembered after a procedure you can always taste the medicine and did not want you to have that bitter taste in your mouth-. We talked and whispered to your ear all the things we wanted to tell you; with each word you seemed better. You were no longer confused, you were aware and you knew you were home with those who loved you the most. We said our goodbyes with joy to have met you, and I tried to hold back the pain so that you wouldn't feel as if you had to stay, not in pain. I snuggled up to you, put my arm around you and told you we would go for one last nap, I felt how you relaxed, you knew this, you knew naptime. I asked for the syringe and placed it on the IV, I started to tell you how much I loved you and how brave you had been; then, I told you about a place where you would somehow exist and of those who would be waiting there to meet you. I told you about my great-grandmother Chuy, the one to "blame" for my love for cats, how she was the one that taught me how to love these furry tender souls; she would be waiting for you, she would have you on her lap while knitting another "cat pillow" for me. I told you about her son -my grandfather Manuel-, told you to look for the guy with the white 5 o'clock shadow beard and a ponytail, he would feed you. I warned you my grandfather Poncho would moan you had been over spoiled, but not to worry as he always does that; he would make sure you are safe for you are mine and he loves what I love -his mom, my great-grandmother Josefa would make sure of that-. I had one last favor to ask of you, to save a place for me to join you later. It was time, I said a thousand times "I love you" as I pushed ever so slowly the liquid through your IV. I hugged you and felt your breathing slow down, Danny took the syringe from me and made sure he was the last to push it in -he didn't want that on me-. I held back the tears, mom said it could stop you from going in peace, so I held it in... I wanted you happy, better. I stayed there holding you, kissing you. Then you were free.

Nothing was planned, but everything that followed was so right. We tended to your body as if you were still there, we removed the IV and the probe carefully then mom and I slowly cleaned you up. Danny felt it would be a way of honoring your love to put some perfumed oil all over your lovely fur, we chose blackcurrant and vanilla for you. When we finished preparing you for the next step, Mom and Danny left the room so I could be alone with you. I snuggled up against you, hugged you and played a few songs while I smelled your little head for the last time. I wanted to remember how your body felt against mine, at the time I felt you needed protecting but now I know it was me who was in need not you. I finally gathered the strength and carried you down the stairs, it felt surreal; you were in my arms, waiting to be taken somewhere but you were not really there. We took you to the crematorium, it was Sunday, we were told the last goodbye would have to be on Monday. I panicked for a second thinking about leaving you there, in the cold; I had to remind myself that you were no longer there. Monday came and I saw you again, mom says it was a blessing as it gave us time to say goodbye again a little bit calmer this time, a little less hurt. I said one last goodbye and then it was done. I took you back home that day, and I asked mom to take you back with her... back to my real home. You're so important, Tris, that she came to see you when you were so sick to help me choose what was best for you and then took you home. Home, to our garden, the place where the other souls of our life companions that went before you would guide you to your place among those I love so that you could wait for me. That's how important you are.

Danny dreamt of you Sunday night, he thought he was petting Apolo but it felt different, when he looked back it was you he was touching -your hair looked brighter, it shinned through-, you let him feel you for a while and in a very cat like way stood up and went to play with your siblings. He says that was you coming back to let us know you're all right. Since you've transcended, your sister Eva has been playing with rays of light -mom pointed it out to me first on Sunday-. Eva just did it again as I am writing, I don't remember her ever doing that and I wonder if it's you that's playing with her -free of your enemy, back in your prime-. I am now preparing for you to come to me, Danny says I have to be calm first, maybe sleep a whole night without waking up in the middle scared that you're no longer by my side and that I didn't do enough. He says you'll come to me. I am waiting...



https://youtu.be/gfq121ykQQc

Attached image(s)

 

[alicia_ixchel]

Dear Monique,

Thank you for your message, I made the video get a handle on my grief to collect all the pics of his lovely face, you saw more on it than I did. His life was privileged, yes, but not for having money to spare but for deciding they -Tris and his siblings- were what we would spend our money and time on. And yes, he was loved, profoundly. As you do, my mom also thinks he stayed and fought for as long as he did just because he loved being with me. I'm beginning to believe it, as I think about it my heart fills with joy. I hope he felt every bit of love that we had for him, all of us. He was adored!

I am beginning to understand we were -in perspective- very lucky to have this gentle ending -as you put it-. It could have gone so much worse for him if we had let the vet prolong his life/agony -there was the option for more procedures, but my Mom convinced me it would not be what he wanted-. Your words regarding my doubts on the decisions made on the way have helped us; yes, I said us. I've shown Danny the forum and he's been reading what you've all written, he says the perspective of other fur parents helps him -too- understand better and has calmed his doubts too about the path we chose. What you say about the balance in which we kept him in order to maintain his quality of life has lifted a heavy burden from our hearts: "had you done more, he would have suffered. had you done less, he would have experienced more discomfort", you are so right... We felt as if we had failed him, but maybe we did just what he needed us to do. He WAS happy right to the very end after all. I am grateful for my mom convincing me not to have anything more done, having more invasive procedures would have been disrespectful, harmful and ultimately useless. Your point of view has allowed a bit of the shame of failing to dissipate. "Tristan is hugging you over and over for all of your beautiful efforts to keep him part of your loving embrace until his last breath without compromising anything!", tears welled up in my eyes as I read your words... I hope he felt what we did for him, I hope we did good by him, I want to believe he knew we did everything to show him our love all the way to the end.

I read both of the writings you referred to on your message, I had previously found one of your links in some other tread to the Christine Kane article and loved it; but the one of the old man, the scars of love... that one's so powerful! It made me realize what's been happening in me, all the searing pain in my heart has just been the scar forming; and the pain has been so great for the love I have for him is equally so. I will wear this scar proudly, I will run my fingers through it every day and it will still ache but the pain will eventually leave a sweet taste in my mouth because I will remember I loved him so and how much I was loved in return.

I am so sorry about the lovely Mackenzie, Madelynne, the bunnies and all the others... I just finished reading your topic. I can relate to a lot of what you wrote on it. The self-blame, guilt, shame, anger, the assaults that come without warning "from very dark places" everything. Your experience has been different and alike at the same time. The first days I couldn't breathe at night either, panic attacks woke me up and kept me from falling asleep again. I was treated to the worst movie reel, one filled with images of him trapped on that metal cube -I remember you wrote something about this also from your experience with Mackenzie-. I have had chills remembering him like that, only the pillow I brought him provided him with comfort on such a cold and unforgiving environment. Leaving him there still haunts me. As you said, "She trusted me with her life and I failed her.", I feel that too. Anger has assaulted me too, mostly self directed at first but lately towards the vets -by the end there were 4 involved- and their insistence to keep probing and drugging him. What I can't forgive them is how I asked on each time, each call if it was worth it to keep on trying, to keep him there -away from me-... they always said yes. Two nights may not seem like much to others , but I know you understand that for me it was forever. I realize now it is a business after all, they naturally-although inhumanely- want to prolong their lives even with no quality at all anymore. More time equals money, a lot of them have lost the love for animals that led them to that career. I called the other day to know more of what happened, to make sure Tristan's siblings were not in any kind of danger; they each gave different reasons from the other. I don't think they know, or care. We were lucky, though, our boy was spared of suffering and as you said had a peaceful end. We have indeed been blessed with that.

As I am writing this I find myself calming down a bit, my heart is finally catching up to my brain. They are finally communicating, your words have helped. I found this forum while looking desperately for answers, I found you guys and a tiny bit of light pierced through the dark clouds hanging over my soul. As moon_beam wrote "we come here broken and reeling from the deepest pain" and then we find each other. And luckily some are as thoughtful and wise as moon_beam and you Monique, I don't take your advise lightly; from what I've read this bits of wisdom come from you guys having endured this pain over and over again, these are the teachings left by your scars. I thank you for sharing what you've learned from all that suffering. I won't forget. I am so grateful I found you guys.

[Monique]

good morning,

so many thoughts and head nods coming to mind with what you wrote. since i have a very large and complicated animal household, death is a looming event, esp. now that my peeps are aging. most of my cats are about the same age. anticipatory grief is a constant presence. how to manage it all...

when i lost my dear, sweet mackenzie, i searched high and low for help. this was not the first time that i looked for help regarding losing a furred or feathered companion. i tried counseling at one point. several counselors later and many deer in the headlight looks, i gave that up. so, after mackenzie, i just happened onto this site. that is when i found the christine kane blog about losing her beloved cat. her words are so simple, yet so far reaching and true. they are easy to read and comprehend when my mind is in a huge fog. big words and complicated windings are virtually impossible to grasp.

i also decided after mackenzie: no more invasive procedures. i now manage chronic and acute conditions differently. even if you had done slews of additional medications and procedures with him, like i did mackenzie, you would have to find a way to forgive yourself. regardless of the path you chose or by some "force," you loved your tristan deeply and would never intentionally do anything to hurt him. from where i sit, i ache for mackenzie and wish i had chosen the gentle path. that is hindsight and second guessing adding insult and injury to an already extremely painful trial. i share your frustration with the medical profession. dr. jolley is the only vet who i trust, and yet she is not versed in alternative medicine. with my use of manuka honey, she confessed she does not consider such things. the good news is that she is willing to check into it. i offered that not everyone has the means by which to pay 1000s for meds and procedures that, in the end, do not add value to the life of the animal. these pet owners still want to do something to help their beloved companions as they struggle with health issues. things like the honey are very worthy of note and i wish western practitioners would include alternative approaches on their agendas. i read and research all the time, and question everything. in the end, i may not have always captured everything correctly, or hindsight offers something i overlooked. that is where my "human-ness" is simply limited and i try to forgive myself. work in progress. but, for sure, i am dismayed at the veterinary profession. drugs and services continue to escalate in price and they have to pay somehow for equipment, clinics, and staff.

so i have learned and changed since mackenzie. i had to, as i have so, so many who still need to pass and i cannot fall apart. i want to come out the other end with grace and peace, and to look forward to seeing them all again. not land at the finish line in a mentally deranged heap in a padded cell. i have seen that happen to many rescuers who have lost their footing. not only does the individual suffer, but so do the animals.

i now manage chronic and acute situations differently. and with each case, i evaluate closely whether western medications are called for, and if there is a way to manage for the ultimate benefit to the animal. chronic conditions include anything for which there is no cure or where procedure may offer only minimal life extension. acute situations are injuries or health maintenance events like dentals, infections. i have many examples of each already, where i have or am approaching with minimalistic management or treatments, and in the end, like losing sammy jo, i find greater peace that the animal was allowed to live as natural a life as possible.

take for ex. my bunny, jamy. he had a ganglion cyst on his wrist that was inoperable due to location. eventually, it grew to break the skin open. so now i had not only the cyst to manage, but the risk of infection. after trying clay packs and coconut oil (with daily cleansing and wrapping), both of which greatly helped to keep the area clean and free of infection, i started using manuka honey both topically and orally. in 12 days, this huge cyst reduced to 1/3 its size. sadly, he passed away as he was a very senior bunny (about 10 yrs old) and had other health issues like advanced arthritis. he beat the cyst, though, using the honey.

i have a dog, cale (ka-lee), who started having trouble urinating last winter. in april of this year, after trying several things like antibiotics, i took her in for tests, and dr, jolley found a mass in the retroperitoneal area (i think i spelled that right, the area at the base of the tail, the space between the spine and the intestines). this was considered secondary to a mass somewhere else, maybe the bladder. the only was to find this out was to perform more tests: mri, exploratory surgery, more xrays, maybe chemo or radiation, and travel to specialty clinics. this meant cale was going to spend an untold amount of time in the care of strangers, in hospitals where she would smell fear, illness, death, aggression, stress, sadness, hopeless, helpless, and the cries of all the other animals who wondered why they were there and where their parents were. and, at least $10K later, i would maybe have some answers and a severely depleted dog, who if she in fact has the dreaded C, would now surely pass sooner. opening up an animal, just like with people, with the dreaded C, just makes the cancer rage. i don't know why, but there are plenty of cases in my home alone, where invasive procedures have not only traumatized the animal unnecessarily, but shortened their lives. my sammy jo- i only had her for 13 months. a senior peep in a kill shelter. dr. jolley removed 3 growths that were considered malignant, margins clear. she was thriving at first, gaining weight. that was short-lived. she struggled with eating for most of the time i had her. i stopped her heart medications and that seemed to help. she developed a horrible smell coming from her mouth, something very deep down was very, very bad, let's just put it that way. bloodwork showed nothing- it rarely does! she stopped eating in the first week of june. i tried everything to keep her comfortable. in the morning of 15 june, she started passing blood and could not walk anymore. advanced renal failure. i helped her to eternal care. i wish i had just given her honey and not ever put her through surgery. i did not know about the honey at the time! no amount of digging on the internet showed manuka honey. i stumbled on this by accident in researching wound care for jamy, and then specifically read about manuka honey and read some cases, where it actually stops cancer cells from growing. so, the point here is, that opening her up was a mistake... again, the grief on this is horrible. second guessing, guilt. the fact that i didn't know about the honey is just not good enough for this stage of grief. it's all part of wanting her back and wanted a second chance to do it better. negotiating endlessly to somehow change the outcome.

so, on cale, i stopped listening at the point where dr. jolley made her diagnosis and spelled out the treatment options, took cale home, and started her on manuka honey twice a day. that was 8 may. she had an event starting 10 july and ending 3 aug, where she stopped eating and developed an infection between her back legs, that quickly evolved into pitting edema. dr. jolley said this was all related to the dreaded C diagnosis. i ignored this. i believe she had a deep infection, like cellulitis, that started with bacteria left in her body from a madelynne attack last feb. i syringe fed her twice a day, applied manuka honey, epsom and sea salt packs, and oral manuka honey. i did end up giving her a round of baytril antibiotics as i didn't want to prolong the infection given what else she may be dealing with. she is stable, eating well, great body score. still strains a bit to urinate. when this all started, she started digging huge holes in the yard. and to this day, she still does this. i have had her since 2007 and not once in all the years has she dug any holes. i think maybe she finds this therapeutic somehow and maybe she's eating dirt along the way, who knows? i'm just happy to have her doing so well, and whisper in her ear every day, Don't give up.

i have a little guinea pig, blossom, whose nipples became quite swollen a few months ago. this is indicative of ovarian cysts. she is not spayed. this is ill advised for female piggies, as it takes a huge toll on their little bodies and many do not survive. they mostly pass from conditions other than reproductive cancers. i started giving her a little manuka honey once a day. the swelling has gone down and she has gained weight. i have not taken her to the vet. there is no point. i will not put her through surgery and antibiotics for anything else are ill advised, as they kill the delicate microbial environment in the gut, which leads to statis, which can lead to death. the manuka honey has antibacterial properties, so if she's dealing with an infection, albeit highly unlikely given that she has no symptoms along these lines, the honey will take of this. and in the meantime, she is a happy little piggy running around with her friends.

in closing (for now), i wanted to tell you that one therapist told me something i have always remembered. the lives of our companions are a long string of millions of moments. when a peep passes, that is only one moment out of all of them. i strive to put passing into that perspective so as to define lives as unbalanced, where so much emphasis is placed on the end. as moon_beam so often writes, only the physical form ends. the living spirit is still always there. we, as humans, have to find a way to be ok with the physical part no longer there, and allow love to come in to a new door. all this is easier said than done. i have achieved this for some i have lost. others, i'm not there yet, and with madelynne, this will take some time as i'm so very out of sorts with how her life was with me and how it ended (by my hand, the playing God...).

i am glad you find comfort in being here. allow yourself to cry and question and feel the pain. if i don't allow what i call insulting grief phases, i end up in an eternal do loop.

xo