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Some of you may be familiar with Oyster's story so I will try to make this brief...
He was 17 years old and had lived with us for the past 16 years. He had adopted me after having appeared mysteriously in our backyard. I look back at that experience and really believe that he was an angel sent to help me through life's most difficult transitions and to give me unconditional love. Six months after his arrival, we adopted a cat from a local shelter. They were best of friends and brothers till Biscuit died of a tumor in 2020. I know grief. I mourned him. But it feels nothing like the pain I am in now. Why is it so different?
Oyster was our first cat after our marriage. He was my baby and I spent all my free time with him and later, all my time with him. I knew every quirk, every sound, every call he made and what he was saying. He knew my language. When my first child was born, he welcomed her with curiosity and love. I experienced the death of my favorite person in the world--my grandmother, and Oyster and Biscuit sat patiently with me as I cried and processed the grief. I went through a life-altering move and they came along.
Then, when he was diagnosed with CKD, I did all the things I could after reading and researching for hours on Tanya's CKD web site as well as vet journals. In March, he suffered an acute kidney injury and I went to three vets who told me to euthanize him. Finally, I found an expensive hospital an hour away and took him there where they stabilized him and I brought him home. Just a few days later, he suffered a relapse and was readmitted. He suffered a relapse because the vet there refused to prescribe him antibiotics for a longer treatment and withdrew subcutaneous fluid support from him claiming he didn't need it anymore. After he was readmitted, they administered 400 ml subcutaneous fluid within 24 hours into him thinking to discharge him. This resulted in pleural effusion and I made the choice to put him to sleep on Easter Sunday. In all other aspects, his creatinine levels were improving, his blood levels (HCT) was slowly improving but he could no longer breathe properly. We had already spent 10K on his treatment in 2 weeks. I knew even money wouldn't fix the breathing, if I had any. I knew I could no longer subject him to any more treatment. I knew that the end would have come but I hadn't imagined such a horrible ending in a hospital he and I both came to hate and that is why I don't think I can find closure.
My grief is compounded by the fact that my spouse refuses to discuss the loss of Oyster and grieves silently and alone for him. I want to talk about him and share our happier memories of him but he doesn't. The children have processed the loss much more quickly and have moved on....as they should. I have been left behind though.
It has been two weeks since his death, and I have a responsibility to the ones who are living but I can't seem to function, get over the guilt, and escape the pain. My thoughts are drowning me. I understand this is the natural grieving process.
Meanwhile, I sent the hospital a letter detailing the failures in his treatment in factual, polite language. I got a response via a phone call from the head of the hospital calling me a crazy person for daring to send a letter of complaint. He ranted for a full 5 minutes and didn't allow me to speak at all. Then, he hung up on me.
Yes, life is unfair. I have dealt with losing a pet before. But it has never seemed so painful as now especially as the loss was made due to human error.
He was 17 years old and had lived with us for the past 16 years. He had adopted me after having appeared mysteriously in our backyard. I look back at that experience and really believe that he was an angel sent to help me through life's most difficult transitions and to give me unconditional love. Six months after his arrival, we adopted a cat from a local shelter. They were best of friends and brothers till Biscuit died of a tumor in 2020. I know grief. I mourned him. But it feels nothing like the pain I am in now. Why is it so different?
Oyster was our first cat after our marriage. He was my baby and I spent all my free time with him and later, all my time with him. I knew every quirk, every sound, every call he made and what he was saying. He knew my language. When my first child was born, he welcomed her with curiosity and love. I experienced the death of my favorite person in the world--my grandmother, and Oyster and Biscuit sat patiently with me as I cried and processed the grief. I went through a life-altering move and they came along.
Then, when he was diagnosed with CKD, I did all the things I could after reading and researching for hours on Tanya's CKD web site as well as vet journals. In March, he suffered an acute kidney injury and I went to three vets who told me to euthanize him. Finally, I found an expensive hospital an hour away and took him there where they stabilized him and I brought him home. Just a few days later, he suffered a relapse and was readmitted. He suffered a relapse because the vet there refused to prescribe him antibiotics for a longer treatment and withdrew subcutaneous fluid support from him claiming he didn't need it anymore. After he was readmitted, they administered 400 ml subcutaneous fluid within 24 hours into him thinking to discharge him. This resulted in pleural effusion and I made the choice to put him to sleep on Easter Sunday. In all other aspects, his creatinine levels were improving, his blood levels (HCT) was slowly improving but he could no longer breathe properly. We had already spent 10K on his treatment in 2 weeks. I knew even money wouldn't fix the breathing, if I had any. I knew I could no longer subject him to any more treatment. I knew that the end would have come but I hadn't imagined such a horrible ending in a hospital he and I both came to hate and that is why I don't think I can find closure.
My grief is compounded by the fact that my spouse refuses to discuss the loss of Oyster and grieves silently and alone for him. I want to talk about him and share our happier memories of him but he doesn't. The children have processed the loss much more quickly and have moved on....as they should. I have been left behind though.
It has been two weeks since his death, and I have a responsibility to the ones who are living but I can't seem to function, get over the guilt, and escape the pain. My thoughts are drowning me. I understand this is the natural grieving process.
Meanwhile, I sent the hospital a letter detailing the failures in his treatment in factual, polite language. I got a response via a phone call from the head of the hospital calling me a crazy person for daring to send a letter of complaint. He ranted for a full 5 minutes and didn't allow me to speak at all. Then, he hung up on me.
Yes, life is unfair. I have dealt with losing a pet before. But it has never seemed so painful as now especially as the loss was made due to human error.
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