time is moving along. i recently found myself lucky enough to get a job working with animals at a veterinary hospital, and while i am so grateful, that's a story for another day.
most days are good; today was brutal.
we had a lovely old cat who came in yesterday afternoon very sick. i spent what little downtime i had with her because she seemed to respond well to touch. we kept her overnight with fluids and medicine medicine and this morning started so well--she started eating again and moving around a bit. then we got a call from her family saying they'd decided overnight to put her down. it was crushing, but they didn't want her to be in pain anymore.
eleven am rolled in, and while i was outside giving a quick bordetella vaccine to a pug, i noticed a man holding a cat carrier outside in the rain, talking to her in such a soft voice for such a muscular, broad guy. i promised i would be right back out for him. i came back out and asked him what was going on; he'd just recently gotten her from a friend who died unexpectedly--he said it was a sign because he had always wanted a cat. her name was chicory. i took her carrier and promised him we would take good care of her and that he could go--we'd call him as soon as we knew anything.
i took her into room two, opened the carrier, and tried to coax her out. she just let out a sad cry and was breathing raggedly and smelled like something ominous i couldn't place, so i picked her up and set her on the baby scale and she just kind of ...collapsed. i only kind of remember that i yelled for help and shauna ran in and went white and grabbed the doctor for me.
the doctor walked up as i was trying to take deep breaths while comforting this sweet girl. she frantically started patting down the cat, looked me in the eyes, and said "this cat is actively dying. right now. she's pale because she's bleeding out somewhere." within maybe thirty seconds she'd located a big, hard mass lodged in her lower abdomen. likely a tumor she had been growing well before her original owner died. we immediately gave her some medicine to keep her going and comfortable enough while we waited for her owner to walk back.
many protocols and procedures were broken today. we let him come straight in to the hospital table with the heating pad where we were treating her. we all tried to keep our composure; i broke first when bringing him some water, having known his story. the doctor told him his options, but there weren't really any.
i'm a person of hyperbole, i know, but when i say heartbreaking is not a strong enough word, i mean it with all of the heart i have left. when her owner said he'd just gotten her and couldn't even keep her alive, i had to excuse myself. i went out back and stole four minutes to cry alone (well, i guess the sky was sobbing a bit too), then went back in to help. we're supposed to be professional, but i couldn't help but pat his back a bit and remind him that this was long before him and he had done everything he could do and said a prayer in my head that he would be okay and that someday he would feel up to trying again.
everything was so somber after that. we had just ordered food as a group beforehand; i don't think any of us really ate when it came. we all stayed a bit teary-eyed and tried to mentally prepare to put down our hospital cat right after. we got her prepared and put in the catheter, and her family came. she'd been lethargic for days, but tried to walk right up to them with the catheter in, meowing. after a few minutes of deliberating, they decided to give us a few more days to try and make her better before giving up. so thankful for small mercies.
and again and again, life goes on. i'll never forget this man and his chicory, who simply drew a difficult hand in life. sometimes things just aren't fair. but there are so many good things too and it's important not to let the darkness overtake the light, no matter how strong the eclipse.
