And as we do it, we hold the hands of distraught owners and help them make that last painful decision. We offer words of comfort and listen to sacred stories. And we meet each pet’s eyes in those last moments, and what we see again and again is not fear but relief. Relaxation. The end of suffering has come at last. I have seen it firsthand, time and time again. The wordless thank you, as a beloved pet slips into whatever awaits us in the next life. The light dims and then is extinguished. As animal physicians, we are not afraid to acknowledge that death comes for us all and that we possess the ability to ease its final agonies.
As veterinarians, we do what human doctors are not allowed to do. We all know that humans cannot win against death, not forever. Sometimes, when patients approach the end, doctors can offer a salve, buy time. But for many, there comes a time when the salve no longer soothes and doctors can do nothing but harm. And yet, in most states, there is nothing to offer in this moment. Doctors’ hands are tied. They can try to make their patients comfortable, but they cannot help them through that final door. They must go alone.
You have come to the right place, and we are glad you are here. This is a safe place to share stories of love and loss, devastating grief, exhausting care-giving, memorials, advanced directives, mourning, hope, and despair. We want to hear about about what you wish you had known or done differently, what you wish those around you had known or done differently, and what went right. We will never tell you to move on or find closure. "What cannot be said will be wept." Sappho
Thursday, August 16, 2018
A Veterinarian Wants The Same Relief He Provides for Pets
Catherine Ashe writes in Slate:
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