I Failed Her So Badly!, grief and guilt (really long post) Options

[ShelbysMom]

I had Shelby, my gentle, beautiful, shiny, fluffy, red-brown 15-year-old
chow-lab dog, euthanized Monday, and I am consumed by grief not only from
missing someone who was physically present in my life nearly every day for
the last 14 years, but also extreme guilt and anguish over the way I ended
her life. I don't even know exactly how old she was, only that I found her
in 1990 and the vet thought she was a year old then. But until a few weeks
ago she was quite healthy and happy (except for a touch of arthritis which
responded brilliantly to a little medication), romping with us in the
backyard, and loving her walks. Plus I had a thorough physical and bloodwork
done on her last summer whose results had led me to hope she had at least a
good year or two left.

However, her decline was both sudden and exponential. I took her to the vet
only a week and a half ago! During January she had fallen several times, was
having difficulty getting around the house, and started refusing to go for
walks, all of which I had been attributing to the arthritis getting worse.
She also was not eating much---not that she had ever been a big eater---but
I thought this newly decreased appetite might be due to the new Senior chow
I had recently introduced. Then Wednesday February 2, during a warm tub bath
I was giving her to help ease the "arthritis", she was breathing very
heavily, looked weak, and when she went in the backyard afterward to roll in
the grass she fell awkwardly, looked surprised, and did not get up. I helped
her to her feet and called the vet.

By that Saturday February 5, after xrays, ultrasounds, bloodwork, and a
consult with a specialist, I knew:
1.. She had a large mass in her chest near her heart.
2.. Fluid was filling up in the space around her lungs, making it
increasingly difficult to breathe. I had it tapped on Wednesday and it was
clear. Her breathing eased somewhat for a day or so. I had it tapped again
on Saturday and the volume had doubled and had become bloody and clotted.
Her breathing eased for about half a day then became labored again.
3.. Shelby was down to 41.4 lbs after weighing 48/49 her entire adult
life.

She started having increased difficulty breathing. I tempted her with
chicken and steak but by Sunday she couldn't eat at all (although she
hobbled over to look at the treats several times). Sunday and Monday morning
I tried to feed her by hand and the food just dropped out of her mouth. It
also became increasingly difficult for Shelby to get around. Sunday night
and Monday morning it seemed her only goal was to find a comfortable
position to focus her energy on breathing in short, labored, fast breaths.
(At one point I counted and got 70 respirations per minute.) She wanted to
be outside all the time, even at night, even in the rain. The last 2 nights
I got up every couple hours to check on her, afraid she would need help and
I wouldn't hear her.

Then, 8:30 am Monday the specialist called to say the final lab results were
back and the mass in her chest was definitely carcinoma. Operating was not
an option (not that I would have put her through that at age 15). I asked
what would happen now and was told you can either keep draining the fluid,
or she will die from lack of oxygen, or you need to think abut euthanizing.
That was it. I couldn't see subjecting her to more drainings, and I would
have killed her myself before I let her slowly suffocate. Given how quickly
she had deteriorated I felt like I needed to euthanize and I needed to do it
quickly. I tried to contact called the regular vet several times to get her
opinion and was told she would call when her appointments were done.

And, of course, to top all this off, my husband is out of the country this
week on a critical business trip.

My daughter and I spent the morning with Shelby. I tried to love her enough
for an eternity. Of course I failed. I dropped off my daughter at preschool
at 1 on Monday and arranged for a friend to pick her up and keep her after
school. I came home and sat on the cool grass in our sunny breezy backyard
with Shelby. I talked to her and hugged her and petted her and looked in her
eyes and watched her and sobbed, desperately trying to figure out what to
do. She was just standing there, focussed on breathing, her tongue hanging
out just a little and her eyes sunken and empty. "Is this it?" I asked her,
"is this it, baby? Are we done now? What do you want me to do? Please tell
me what to do!" No answer except the quick shallow raspy breathing and the
bony body and the sunken empty eyes. I called her regular vet's office (who
is 20 miles away in a town I used to live in) and demanded to talk to her
doctor now. When she came to the phone I told her I thought it was time but
I needed to feel I was making the right choice. The vet said she hadn't seen
the specialist's reports yet but that, based on what I was saying, she
thought that although *maybe* we could give her little more time with more
drainage, we had to ask ourselves if it was likely to be the kind of time
worth having, and given how quickly the fluid had refilled 2 times, it was
probably time for me to find us both some peace. That was it. I had my
answer.

So, did I then put my beloved gentle beautiful longtime companion in the car
and drive her 45 minutes to her kind vet of 10 years and quietly end her
life gently and lovingly by a compassionate woman who knew her? No. I did
not.

In a frenzied, hysterical, even somewhat *cold-hearted* panic I had her put
down that very hour, nay, half-hour, in a clinic 2 minutes away where they
didn't know us and where we were treated competently but quickly and
clinically. And I *swear* she knew what I was up to: twice I went to pick
her up to carry her to the car and she tottered a few steps to elude my
grasp. I thought, "well if you have the energy to walk you can walk," so I
leashed her and walked her slowly through the house and out to the sidewalk,
where she managed a few steps down the sidewalk like we were going for our
first walk in 2 weeks. This nearly killed me inside but didn't stop me from
picking her up and putting her in the car. Drove to a nearby clinic (which I
had found in the phone book, chosen because the ad was full of new-age crap
about the life spirit that binds people and animals and a lot of yammering
about how compassionate they were and how they were so into animal rights.
Also the receptionist sounded compassionate on the phone and said they were
a walk-in clinic. But when we got there they treated me like I was some
creep just there to get rid of an inconvenient old dog.)

I did have a few minutes of hugging and stroking and talking to her on the
table in the exam room but even this was punctuated by paperwork and a
credit card transaction. (When I saw that reciept in my purse a few days
later I almost threw up.) Again I tried to love her and stroke her enough to
make it all OK. Although weak and exhausted, when the vet and the technician
came in and got to work shaving her leg she got agitated. She had to be
restrained by a technician on the table (why did I let them put her on a
table?!? she hated exam tables!! I wished I had held her body in my arms!)
while the vet found the vein. I thought they would sedate her first so I
could have a final peaceful moment with her but no, they pumped all the
drugs into her right away and she went from being agitated to being dead
immediately, while I was holding and stroking her face and head and looking
at her eyes and telling her everything was going to be OK. The vet said that
when he looked at [something....I don't remember what] he could see she was
already dying. This, and the fact that I was with her, touching her, in the
end are the *only* things keeping me from complete despair, but I was
sobbing and shaking like a maniac the whole time and I hate myself for
making this her last vision on earth.

But mostly I hate and am tormented by the fact that I made a trip to a
strange vet her last experience. This is KILLING me. Why did I do it this
way? She could have made a 20-mile drive to the regular vet. But no, I was
on a MISSION to get it DONE. I was woman possessed: Honestly, I just wanted
her dead and buried NOW. I had this idea that I had to get her home and
buried before my preschooler saw the body or saw me digging a grave. Later I
realized my preschooler probably wouldn't have even noticed either one for
days. But at the time I felt trapped between my dog and my child and my own
hysteria. I felt I had run out of time.

Did I think she would be too uncomfortable, or expire, in the car on the
freeway for 45 minutes? That's not worse than being uncomfortable in a
strange vet's office. Did I think it was too much for me to stand driving
her 45 mintues to her death and the 45 minutes home with her body? I could
have found someone to drive with me. I never even tried. Did I think I
needed to do this alone, just her and me (and strangers)? I don't know.

Anyway, after trying twice to talk me into cremation, the technician helped
me carry her body to the trunk. He asked me several times if I was going to
be OK driving home.

I brought Shelby home by 2:30 pm and dug a 4-foot-deep hole alone with a
lunatic's strength. I had her buried by 8:30 that night.

So now I'm nearly incapacitated by grief at missing her but even more, by
the sickening unbearable anguish of thinking that I ended our long loving
relationship hastily and badly. Then sometimes I wonder if she was really
even that sick at all? Or even completely dead when I buried her? I am
making myself crazy. I spoke with the vet and the specialist afterwards to
get reassurance that I did the right thing, but I still have to look at my
notes from the vet's calls and force myself to visualize her bony body
straining for breath to keep from going crazy thinking I killed my dog for
no reason.

Everyone says "you did the right thing" but, honestly, what else
are they going to say now with her dead and buried? Not only am I missing my
gentle beautiful loving girl who has been with me more than anyone in my
life for the last 14 years, but I don't think I will ever forgive myself or
stop feeling horrified by the way I ended her. I feel sick, I can't sleep, I
can't eat, I can't stop crying hysterically. How can you love someone so
much and fail them so badly?

If anyone can inject any sense into this insane rant, I would be so grateful. Or tell me I just screwed up....maybe it will help me start coming to terms with that.

Sincerely,

Susan

[Nanpacific]

Dear Susan,

I am so sorry for your loss of Shelby. I know how much pain you are in. I think you did the best you could at the time. When it comes to our furbabies we all get very emotional. I think there is not one of us that hasn't been through the scenario of could I have prevented or changed something. Having to face taking Shelby there by yourself had to be terrible. You did the best thing you could for her. Please do not feel guilty. You did not desert her in her time of need.

My Sasha had a similar problem - her tumor had progressed also to where she could not breathe and I like you could not put her through it any longer. I did not realize when I took her to the vet that this would be it so I also felt badly that I did not get to spend a little more time with her. But she could hardly breathe and so I opted to put her out of her misery. I admire you for going by yourself. I had my husband with me and I was a basket case.

Shelby and all our babies are now free from pain and suffering and we have all those beautiful memories of them.

I am thinking of you during this time.

Nancy (Sasha's Mom)