Lost It
So I lost it tonight. Very frustrating.
Benjamin is on his last legs now. We are trying one final antibiotic, and if that doesn't clear his secondary infection and get him eating again, I think the end will be very soon. I fucking hate grinding the medicine up and squirting it down his throat - I know it tastes like shit, it makes the poor old boy drool copiously. I have to do it twice a day now, morning and evening, and he doesn't like it. And this latest antibiotic is going to give him diarrhea (which will be well worth it if it works as well as it did last time). So now we really have to hit the subcutaneous fluids to the tune of a couple of hundred ml/day to keep him hydrated. I hate that too, hate having to stab him with a needle twice a day. And I suck at it, which is even worse - the only thing worse than having to stab your friend with a needle is having to stab your friend with a needle and having it not work.
But still, after all this crappy stuff I do to him a couple of times a day he still climbs up on the couch to get petted. He still shows interest when Sophie comes home.
His current sleeping spot is near the stereo in the living room. I'm sleeping on the couch in the living room. I am worried that he might go during the night, and I don't want him to be alone.
So tonight I finally broke down and cried. It's been an 8 month battle - a battle we knew from the beginning we were going to lose. But we tried so hard. And time after time that effort paid off - finding him something new to tempt him when he stopped eating, finding new meds to treat him with when the old ones stopped working, putting pet steps near the bed so he could continue to climb up, giving him appetite exciters. So much we have tried, and so often it has made a difference, that I keep thinking that there must be one more thing to try. There has to be something else to do, some other way to get his medicine in, something to get him eating again.
But the time is close, so close. Maybe tomorrow. He's still engaged, but less so than he was. Not eating and not engaging are the two signs that it is time. We have one of them, but not quite the other. Not quite.
I don't want Benjamin to die at the vets. I would really like Benjamin to die at home. When he had that seizure the other day I was relieved in a way - I thought, at least he's dying here, not in some strange place that smells of medicine and frightened animals.
But of course I don't want him to suffer either. I have heard too many horror stories about animals suffering painful, lingering deaths at home to want that for our Benjamin.
I feel so tired tonight. Like I really want to give up. But that isn't fair to Benjamin. I owe him better than that.
Benjamin is on his last legs now. We are trying one final antibiotic, and if that doesn't clear his secondary infection and get him eating again, I think the end will be very soon. I fucking hate grinding the medicine up and squirting it down his throat - I know it tastes like shit, it makes the poor old boy drool copiously. I have to do it twice a day now, morning and evening, and he doesn't like it. And this latest antibiotic is going to give him diarrhea (which will be well worth it if it works as well as it did last time). So now we really have to hit the subcutaneous fluids to the tune of a couple of hundred ml/day to keep him hydrated. I hate that too, hate having to stab him with a needle twice a day. And I suck at it, which is even worse - the only thing worse than having to stab your friend with a needle is having to stab your friend with a needle and having it not work.
But still, after all this crappy stuff I do to him a couple of times a day he still climbs up on the couch to get petted. He still shows interest when Sophie comes home.
His current sleeping spot is near the stereo in the living room. I'm sleeping on the couch in the living room. I am worried that he might go during the night, and I don't want him to be alone.
So tonight I finally broke down and cried. It's been an 8 month battle - a battle we knew from the beginning we were going to lose. But we tried so hard. And time after time that effort paid off - finding him something new to tempt him when he stopped eating, finding new meds to treat him with when the old ones stopped working, putting pet steps near the bed so he could continue to climb up, giving him appetite exciters. So much we have tried, and so often it has made a difference, that I keep thinking that there must be one more thing to try. There has to be something else to do, some other way to get his medicine in, something to get him eating again.
But the time is close, so close. Maybe tomorrow. He's still engaged, but less so than he was. Not eating and not engaging are the two signs that it is time. We have one of them, but not quite the other. Not quite.
I don't want Benjamin to die at the vets. I would really like Benjamin to die at home. When he had that seizure the other day I was relieved in a way - I thought, at least he's dying here, not in some strange place that smells of medicine and frightened animals.
But of course I don't want him to suffer either. I have heard too many horror stories about animals suffering painful, lingering deaths at home to want that for our Benjamin.
I feel so tired tonight. Like I really want to give up. But that isn't fair to Benjamin. I owe him better than that.