You know, I’ve often thought that if something happened to mom, or to Jose that left them breathing / or on life support but everything else was shut down, that I’d be o.k. with pulling the plug – sending them on to a better place. Well, I’ve come to the recent discovery that there is no way that I’ll be able to do that – I’m pretty sure—Or I might be able to say do it, but then am going to have to run away and not be there at the moment. The reason for the revelation? Well, Atticus, who really was the best dog ever created – except for the inordinately massive amount of hair that always seemed to be falling off but steadfastly refused to be clipped, was hit by a firetruck (not sure but there were several passing by that morning and anything smaller would have been totaled by running into her) – and this past week has been a daily hope that she would improve. That Saturday morning, when I rushed her to the Vets on the way to my Praxis test, the Vet told me that he couldn’t even give me her odds – I took that to mean probably 60-40 – when he told me the best he could offer was 80 – 20 – I assumed he meant 70-30. And when, on Thursday afternoon, they let me take her home because really they’d done everything they could – I took that to mean she was well on her way to recovery and I should expect a couple of weeks or rehab for her to regain her strength – and that most likely she would never be a spry dog again. That’s not what happened. The first couple of days, I felt pretty sure that was what was happening, and then Monday, she just sort of gave up and shut down – Probably she was given me silent signals all along and I just wasn’t seeing them – to happy planning how I was going to create a large doggy wheelchair to help her get around. Monday, she gave up on subtlety and just quit eating, then she quit looking around, and then she quit breathing normally – and I had to adjust my she’s getting better to an oh my god, she’s dying – and quick. My husband, who had since Thursday been telling me that she wasn’t looking good and that he didn’t think she was going to make it – responded to my concern that I was sure she was dying – an assertion made with tears in eyes, quivering chin, and unsteady stuttering speech – answered my concerns with “well, she’s not dead yet, you never know.” For which I could have happily hurt him – So I called Patti, my neighbor who has the Vet’s number on speed dial – and she, agreeing with my summation that Atticus wasn’t doing well, hit the other end of the spectrum and wanted me to jump in the car with Atticus and take her to the vet to be put to sleep – what I wanted was a vet to come out and say – oh no, really, she’s fine, she’s just a bit over drugged – here give her this magic bean and she’ll be fine in the morning. I couldn’t do that either. Letting Atticus die was one thing – but actively going to the vet to ask them to put her to sleep was way too much for me. So I made a deal with Atticus: I asked her to please either be much better in the morning or to be dead – A deal that Atticus in her drug induced state (I’d decided to give her double doses of her muscle reliever while we waited) apparently didn’t hear or understand. Instead, she decided to move around the room (flipping really from side to side) and let her breathing get shallower and shallower so that when I would get up in the middle of the night to check on her, I couldn’t tell – then I’d think it was over – only to realize that it wasn’t over after all.
This morning, I found the strength to call and leave a message on the answering machine of the Vet’s office – I didn’t have the strength to talk to someone in person. And I had the strength to ask patti to call them again and ask them to come out and put Atticus to sleep. But I didn’t have the strength to be there – there is no way that I could have been in the room, petting her head, while the doctor gave her final shot. And even now, hours after the event, and a full 24 hours after the realization that she was going to have to be put down – I’m still holding back the tears, feeling as if I’m the worse dog owner parent ever and fighting down the thought that I have paid over $500 in bills this week for a grave – and we are not mentioning that amount to Jose – I told him Patti paid all of it – she helped – but not all. Anyway… so sitting here, searching for Ashlee’s cell phone on ebay – with my crappy slow internet, I thought to myself, man, if it’s this hard for a dog, can you imagine how bad it would be for a person. I had always thought that if someone were on life support system and no hope of recovering that I would be able to just say turn them off – but man – after doing this thing with atticus and thinking to myself – really if she’s breathing then hope is not yet lost – is it? Really? That I would do the same thing in a hospital with a person – so – let me say it speaks to the need for a living will – I can say take my life if I’m in this situation because I don’t want to go on like this – but you really can’t ask someone else to make that decision for you – the guilt is unending – the responsibility to great – and the eternal doubt that maybe some miracle could have occurred and a cure found, a recovery made – and I’m just saying right now – I’m not doing it – not going to do it – and no one can make me – and that’s all I have to say about that.
