How do I grieve without guilt?
January 14, 2011 7:29 PM Subscribe
My wonderful, loving, young dog is dying. How do I stop feeling guilty about grieving? How do I deal with not giving chemo?
September of 2009, I adopted a greyhound. He's not even five years old, and was diagnosed with lymphoma. Due to cost concerns, we're using prednisone instead of doing chemo. He has 1-3 months left.
Needless to say, I'm a complete wreck, but luckily, I've got a job that allows me to work from home; I've had to do so to make it to the vet appointments. Every time I talk to my boss about it, I feel miserable. It's a really busy time on my project, and I'm not able to give 100%. I missed a meeting because the oncologist appointment ran late. I know that I've had legitimate reasons for doing so, and my bosses are totally understanding, but I feel so incredibly guilty for having to say "it's because my dog is sick". I know that other people deal with losing real human relations, so it seems like I don't even have the right to be so upset about a dog. I mean, I've got five healthy grandparents, so why cry for a dog?
And of course I need to deal with the self-recriminations. He's five years old, and otherwise as healthy as an ox. Other than the swollen glands, he's not showing any symptoms at all. Chemo could give him a year of happy life. But I just don't have the money; the quote was more than double what I'd expected it to be. There's no way I could get the money, and there's nobody that can help me out. The oncologist said, before he even started explaining the lymphoma, that the disease is not my fault, and that whatever I decide is going to be the right choice for me. I wish I could believe it. I cry, but then I feel guilty for crying because I'm the one who chose to say no to chemo. I can't even think about what's going to happen when it's time to let him go.
So how do I move past this guilt and allow myself to grieve fully and normally? I've read this question, but would like to know more about the emotional aspects. If I could afford therapy, I would be putting the money towards chemo treatments right now.
September of 2009, I adopted a greyhound. He's not even five years old, and was diagnosed with lymphoma. Due to cost concerns, we're using prednisone instead of doing chemo. He has 1-3 months left.
Needless to say, I'm a complete wreck, but luckily, I've got a job that allows me to work from home; I've had to do so to make it to the vet appointments. Every time I talk to my boss about it, I feel miserable. It's a really busy time on my project, and I'm not able to give 100%. I missed a meeting because the oncologist appointment ran late. I know that I've had legitimate reasons for doing so, and my bosses are totally understanding, but I feel so incredibly guilty for having to say "it's because my dog is sick". I know that other people deal with losing real human relations, so it seems like I don't even have the right to be so upset about a dog. I mean, I've got five healthy grandparents, so why cry for a dog?
And of course I need to deal with the self-recriminations. He's five years old, and otherwise as healthy as an ox. Other than the swollen glands, he's not showing any symptoms at all. Chemo could give him a year of happy life. But I just don't have the money; the quote was more than double what I'd expected it to be. There's no way I could get the money, and there's nobody that can help me out. The oncologist said, before he even started explaining the lymphoma, that the disease is not my fault, and that whatever I decide is going to be the right choice for me. I wish I could believe it. I cry, but then I feel guilty for crying because I'm the one who chose to say no to chemo. I can't even think about what's going to happen when it's time to let him go.
So how do I move past this guilt and allow myself to grieve fully and normally? I've read this question, but would like to know more about the emotional aspects. If I could afford therapy, I would be putting the money towards chemo treatments right now.
Best answer: Being the guardian of any domesticated animal is far, far more involved emotionally than many people give it credit for. These beings are not our pets; they are our friends, our family members, our loved ones and our confidantes. For those of us who develop such strong relationships with our beloved animals, it's not difficult for us to say, "I am so lucky to have had the chance to be the caretaker of this incredible cat/dog/rat/mouse/llama/whatever." And you know what? That animal is equally as lucky, because you out of all the other humans in the world took that animal on as your responsibility and have given it the opportunity to live with you and be in your care.
Your dog is an incredibly blessed little guy, because you love him and you've done everything reasonably possible within your realm of power to make sure that he's had a good life. I figure that there's very little we can do sometimes with these things, because sometimes it's just time, you know? Who would really be benefiting if you DID go through with chemo? Your pup, or you? Ultimately what matters is that you have done right by this dog in every possible way, and that's the greatest gift we can give to another being, be they human or not.
Take refuge in the fact that your bosses understand, and give yourself the same slack. You are performing a living wake for the next few months. You are allowed to grieve, you are allowed to be upset, and you are allowed to let go in the manner in which you feel is best for you. You still have time to say goodbye in all the happiest of ways. I've lost a lot of pets over the past few years, and with the last one it was so sudden and unexpected that all I could do was say, "Goodnight, my darling." That healed me more than I could have ever possibly imagined, because that's how I decided to view it all. My little buddies are all asleep somewhere else, and they are peaceful and free and, above all, resting easy.
Do what you need to do, and be patient with yourself, just in the same way your dog would probably be if it were him going, "What now?". It'll be okay.
posted by patronuscharms at 7:49 PM on January 14, 2011 [19 favorites]
Your dog is an incredibly blessed little guy, because you love him and you've done everything reasonably possible within your realm of power to make sure that he's had a good life. I figure that there's very little we can do sometimes with these things, because sometimes it's just time, you know? Who would really be benefiting if you DID go through with chemo? Your pup, or you? Ultimately what matters is that you have done right by this dog in every possible way, and that's the greatest gift we can give to another being, be they human or not.
Take refuge in the fact that your bosses understand, and give yourself the same slack. You are performing a living wake for the next few months. You are allowed to grieve, you are allowed to be upset, and you are allowed to let go in the manner in which you feel is best for you. You still have time to say goodbye in all the happiest of ways. I've lost a lot of pets over the past few years, and with the last one it was so sudden and unexpected that all I could do was say, "Goodnight, my darling." That healed me more than I could have ever possibly imagined, because that's how I decided to view it all. My little buddies are all asleep somewhere else, and they are peaceful and free and, above all, resting easy.
Do what you need to do, and be patient with yourself, just in the same way your dog would probably be if it were him going, "What now?". It'll be okay.
posted by patronuscharms at 7:49 PM on January 14, 2011 [19 favorites]
I'm so so sorry that you (and your pup) are going through this awful situation. I would ask your vet if they have any advice- I know that when a friend of mine was grieving over losing her service dog, her vet was able to point her to a support group for those who had recently lost animals. It was free and it really helped her to know that there were others who knew what she was going through. Maybe you can try looking at a doggie bucket list? It may help to know that you're making his last few months of life as super awesome as they could be.
posted by kro at 7:50 PM on January 14, 2011 [2 favorites]
posted by kro at 7:50 PM on January 14, 2011 [2 favorites]
I was one year into being the partner to my pup when I realized how vulnerable I am because of this partnership.
Let go of the guilt, and realize how lucky you are to have an employer that will allow you to take care of this...
Be loving to your pup, nobody, not even your worst critic in this (yourself) will ever be able to fault you.
peace....
posted by HuronBob at 7:58 PM on January 14, 2011
Let go of the guilt, and realize how lucky you are to have an employer that will allow you to take care of this...
Be loving to your pup, nobody, not even your worst critic in this (yourself) will ever be able to fault you.
peace....
posted by HuronBob at 7:58 PM on January 14, 2011
Best answer: I am so sorry you and your dog are going through this. I can't speak directly to your situation, but I can say that when I had to put my dog to sleep this year I just kept feeling like it was too soon - I wanted so much to give her one more nice day, one more happy experience, just a little more love and time ... and she was 14 years old. Everyone kept telling me that she had lived a good long time for a larger dog but it never felt that way to me, and I realize now that no matter what length of time we'd had together, it never could have felt like enough - she was so wonderful that I would always have wanted to give her more, be able to try one more thing, spend a little more money or time or effort for her ... but in the end, I gave her a lifetime, just as you're doing now, and that's truly all you can do.
Even if you were able to spend the money to give him an extra year (or 20 extra years!), that time would go by so quickly, and at the end of it you could still feel like you should have done more; and in the meantime he'd have had to endure chemo, certainly not a pleasant thing for him. You're doing the right thing, if you're doing what you need to do.
Please don't be hard on yourself for grieving just as much as you would for any other beloved member of the family (to be honest, losing my dog was even harder than losing human members of my family), grieve as you need and as your dog deserves ... and know that whatever you do for him as his loving owner is exactly what should be done - again, whatever happens, you are giving him a lifetime of love.
posted by DingoMutt at 8:03 PM on January 14, 2011 [2 favorites]
Even if you were able to spend the money to give him an extra year (or 20 extra years!), that time would go by so quickly, and at the end of it you could still feel like you should have done more; and in the meantime he'd have had to endure chemo, certainly not a pleasant thing for him. You're doing the right thing, if you're doing what you need to do.
Please don't be hard on yourself for grieving just as much as you would for any other beloved member of the family (to be honest, losing my dog was even harder than losing human members of my family), grieve as you need and as your dog deserves ... and know that whatever you do for him as his loving owner is exactly what should be done - again, whatever happens, you are giving him a lifetime of love.
posted by DingoMutt at 8:03 PM on January 14, 2011 [2 favorites]
Years ago, my cat, only five, developed cancer and I made him go through the recommended chemotherapy and radiation. I regret that now. All he wanted was to stay at home, sit on a lap, eat his crunchy foods, but he had to go to a strange and distant place a few times a week where people bothered him. He lived for 18 months after the diagnosis, a bit longer than he would have, perhaps, without the treatment. But his last months would have been happier without the vet and the chemotherapy and all the driving and waiting. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn't, though the choice would still be a hard one because I loved him so much. I think the best you can do by your dog is what you've decided to do.
posted by Francolin at 8:17 PM on January 14, 2011 [7 favorites]
posted by Francolin at 8:17 PM on January 14, 2011 [7 favorites]
petloss.com's listed phone hotlines. These are free services, and those associated with a college of veterinary medicine are staffed by veterinary (and/or veterinary technology) students supervised by an LCSW, psychologist, or LMHC.
Virginia Tech (VMR-CVM) should be listed, but you can call any of them. Really. And think of it like this--not only will you hear from someone who also cares deeply about animals and who will understand that you love your dog dearly, just by calling them, you are helping students learn how to help you and listen and be there for clients.
posted by Uniformitarianism Now! at 8:24 PM on January 14, 2011 [5 favorites]
Virginia Tech (VMR-CVM) should be listed, but you can call any of them. Really. And think of it like this--not only will you hear from someone who also cares deeply about animals and who will understand that you love your dog dearly, just by calling them, you are helping students learn how to help you and listen and be there for clients.
posted by Uniformitarianism Now! at 8:24 PM on January 14, 2011 [5 favorites]
Best answer: I have found that it helps to know that I'm not alone in this struggle. I am there with you: my beautiful, amazing, perfect 10 year old developed an odd thing on her leg this past November. The leg, the vet said, was absolutely nothing. The lump on her thyroid, however, is stage 4 thyroid cancer that has metastasized to her lungs. You have one month until you have to put her down. I was utterly, completely devastated. We took her to an oncologist in a city a couple hours away and were given three options: a new oral anti-cancer med for dogs (called Palladia), chemo or radiation. We chose the oral anti-cancer med and I am infinitely grateful for it. It has reduced her neck and lung tumors dramatically (knock on wood). She rolled in the snow and happily ate vanilla ice cream (her favorite) tonight. I know the terrible event is coming. I don't know when. But now is enough. I have her now and by god we are jamming as much doggy joy into the time she has left. No day is taken for granted. We play, walk, go places, and let her do whatever the hell she wants. We made a pact, she and I: zero tears, zero sadness. I will have plenty of time to cry after she is gone. Now is for playing! For ice cream! For playing with sticks! For going to her favorite spots and getting dirty!
When I was egregiously lost adrift on my sea of grief I happened to listen to this Fresh Air about caring for aging dogs. The author, Nicolas Dodman mentions that cancer is the number one killer of dogs, that almost half of all dogs over the age of 10 contract cancer. And he also talked about how dogs, when the time comes and they are ready to go, will let you know. That she will let me know when she's ready to go was a HUGE weight off my shoulders. I can't be absolutely 100% sure she will let me know? But those two thoughts were the lighthouse that guided me back to calmer waters. I knew I wasn't alone in dealing with this. That I hadn't done anything to cause the cancer (irrational thought, I know, but still), that she was not a rare case. Another comfort was talking to my vet about arrangements for euthanasia. It was critical for me to know that my vet would come to my house and put her down when the time comes. And that I could call her anytime, day or night, when the time came. I don't care how much it costs. She will not have her last moments be thinking about how much she hates going to the vet.
I have also found an absolutely infinite amount of comfort in Zen Buddhism and meditation. I'd always been sort of half interested in Buddhism but it was in this horrific event that I really found the Three Refuges to become a deep part of my life. To me, my sweet dog is the perfect Buddhist. She accepts every moment for what it is, nothing more. One of the perks when she is finally gone is that my Buddhism will sort of be her final gift to me, something that I can carry with me for the rest of my life.
posted by hecho de la basura at 8:26 PM on January 14, 2011 [12 favorites]
When I was egregiously lost adrift on my sea of grief I happened to listen to this Fresh Air about caring for aging dogs. The author, Nicolas Dodman mentions that cancer is the number one killer of dogs, that almost half of all dogs over the age of 10 contract cancer. And he also talked about how dogs, when the time comes and they are ready to go, will let you know. That she will let me know when she's ready to go was a HUGE weight off my shoulders. I can't be absolutely 100% sure she will let me know? But those two thoughts were the lighthouse that guided me back to calmer waters. I knew I wasn't alone in dealing with this. That I hadn't done anything to cause the cancer (irrational thought, I know, but still), that she was not a rare case. Another comfort was talking to my vet about arrangements for euthanasia. It was critical for me to know that my vet would come to my house and put her down when the time comes. And that I could call her anytime, day or night, when the time came. I don't care how much it costs. She will not have her last moments be thinking about how much she hates going to the vet.
I have also found an absolutely infinite amount of comfort in Zen Buddhism and meditation. I'd always been sort of half interested in Buddhism but it was in this horrific event that I really found the Three Refuges to become a deep part of my life. To me, my sweet dog is the perfect Buddhist. She accepts every moment for what it is, nothing more. One of the perks when she is finally gone is that my Buddhism will sort of be her final gift to me, something that I can carry with me for the rest of my life.
posted by hecho de la basura at 8:26 PM on January 14, 2011 [12 favorites]
I am so sorry that you are going through this. Please remember that you dog does not know he is dying. He will take his cues from you, and his happiness from having his ears scratched, or whatever his favorite thing to do is. Help him to be happy for as long as possible, and you will be doing more for him than chemo ever could.
posted by SLC Mom at 8:58 PM on January 14, 2011 [3 favorites]
posted by SLC Mom at 8:58 PM on January 14, 2011 [3 favorites]
Something we do when a pet's (dog in most cases) end is coming near is we go and adopt a new animal so they can spend some time with the fading pet before they are gone. We feel that that a little bit of that animals habits and bonding with us carry forward with the new animal and I have always felt that the best tribute I can give to any loved pet is to take one of their brothers or sisters into my loving home to have a good as life as I can give them. The new dog probably doesn't really pick up any habits from the old one in the short time they are together but it sure makes me feel better and it seems to make the old (or sick) dog feel better. Of course if your dog is not a breed or temperment to allow this it probably isn't a good idea but we have never regretted taking this course now in over 4 dogs throughout our family.
posted by bartonlong at 9:00 PM on January 14, 2011 [1 favorite]
posted by bartonlong at 9:00 PM on January 14, 2011 [1 favorite]
If it makes you feel any better, know that it's entirely sane to feel a strong emotional bond to a pet. My story isn't to make a direct parallel to your situation (and I feel a little bit vulnerable sharing it, due to how silly it sounds to some people), but my wife and I once had a hamster who hurt itself under our care. It was hurt in a way that was heartbreaking, and it wouldn't stop crying. It probably was not going to survive, but in order to have a semblance of a chance, it needed surgery, which cost hundreds of times more than we bought the hamster for. We would have been justified in not doing it, and arguably, it may have been in the best interest of the hamster to have her put to sleep. But the point is that we felt so emotionally moved by the plight of this animal that I called in absent to work, we called around to see what we could do for her, and I remember feeling close to tears through the whole process. We had the surgery done for her. She only made it another week or so. This story isn't about spending the money, or about whether we should have done that, but to say that animals tug at your heart strings and our innate tendencies for empathy, and I think that fact makes us a bit more human. I can't tell this story to other people without them chuckling about all that effort for a hamster (so I usually don't). But you know, I don't regret doing it, because being able to care for something that was seemingly insignifiant (to some people) felt like the right thing to do.
I think you are doing the right thing for your pet, and you should feel no shame in doing it. It's fine, I think, to not give him chemotherapy. Even when talking about human persons, these decisions aren't made based simply on what extends life, but what provides a good quality of life with the time that remains. If it's partly about cost, it's okay to admit that; but in the end, I think you can also admit that it's for a better quality of life, as well. The two don't have to be mutually exclusive.
posted by SpacemanStix at 9:15 PM on January 14, 2011 [1 favorite]
I think you are doing the right thing for your pet, and you should feel no shame in doing it. It's fine, I think, to not give him chemotherapy. Even when talking about human persons, these decisions aren't made based simply on what extends life, but what provides a good quality of life with the time that remains. If it's partly about cost, it's okay to admit that; but in the end, I think you can also admit that it's for a better quality of life, as well. The two don't have to be mutually exclusive.
posted by SpacemanStix at 9:15 PM on January 14, 2011 [1 favorite]
Best answer: I bet that one of the reasons you feel so bad about this is that you feel like it's about the money, right? You say that if you had the money you would absolutely have paid for chemo. And then you ask yourself, how can I quantify what this awesome dog is worth to me in pure monetary terms? How can I put a price on his life? But you are forced to, and that makes you feel horribly guilty.
So I suggest that you read what other people here are saying about chemo not being a great option for dogs - about the pain it can involve and the extra stress and misery the vet appointments and so on can lead to. About the people who regretted making that choice. Remind yourself that dogs don't really have a great sense of past-present-future, and your dog is not scared of death. He lives a lot more in the present than you do, and it is within your power to make his present a really happy one. You may even be doing this better by NOT putting him through chemo.
If you can convince yourself that this might be a decision that is better for the dog and that you might have made even if money had not been an obstacle, that might help you lose the guilty feeling.
posted by lollusc at 9:54 PM on January 14, 2011 [13 favorites]
So I suggest that you read what other people here are saying about chemo not being a great option for dogs - about the pain it can involve and the extra stress and misery the vet appointments and so on can lead to. About the people who regretted making that choice. Remind yourself that dogs don't really have a great sense of past-present-future, and your dog is not scared of death. He lives a lot more in the present than you do, and it is within your power to make his present a really happy one. You may even be doing this better by NOT putting him through chemo.
If you can convince yourself that this might be a decision that is better for the dog and that you might have made even if money had not been an obstacle, that might help you lose the guilty feeling.
posted by lollusc at 9:54 PM on January 14, 2011 [13 favorites]
My grandma is doing chemo and radiation now, and I wouldn't wish it on anybody.
Everyone has to go sometime...
Love your dog while you still can.
posted by saragoodman3 at 10:15 PM on January 14, 2011
Everyone has to go sometime...
Love your dog while you still can.
posted by saragoodman3 at 10:15 PM on January 14, 2011
Our pets are family members. Anyone at work who has or has had a pet understands your situation completely.
Many years ago I read Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and other books about death, dying and grief. I studied and worked on this enough to realize I did not have to retain an attitude of fear and opposition to what is perfectly natural. I could choose to believe, "If it is all right to be born, then it is all right to die."
Now, as an old person, I also find I would not choose merely prolonging my life, as opposed to those times when expensive medical treatment is able to actually save life. I have made my wishes known about this. Part of my reason is that I do not want to spend a considerable amount of money just to buy myself a limited, as well as uncomfortable and difficult, additional amount of time, but I expect my wishes to be respected even though one of my reasons is financial.
Your dog does not have to jump through such philosophical hoops because your dog is not saddled with a devotion to sustaining life at all costs as humans in our society are. Your dog just enjoys life and loves his person because that's what dogs do. When they are ready to die, they do know, just as they know their other needs, including companionship. They like you to be with them, and they can leave in peace. They leave you with all that love and trust they gave you and a marvelous example of how to accept what is. (That's how they lower our blood pressure.) That's their gift and that's what you hang onto. None of what matters is about buying extra time.
posted by Anitanola at 10:36 PM on January 14, 2011 [3 favorites]
Many years ago I read Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and other books about death, dying and grief. I studied and worked on this enough to realize I did not have to retain an attitude of fear and opposition to what is perfectly natural. I could choose to believe, "If it is all right to be born, then it is all right to die."
Now, as an old person, I also find I would not choose merely prolonging my life, as opposed to those times when expensive medical treatment is able to actually save life. I have made my wishes known about this. Part of my reason is that I do not want to spend a considerable amount of money just to buy myself a limited, as well as uncomfortable and difficult, additional amount of time, but I expect my wishes to be respected even though one of my reasons is financial.
Your dog does not have to jump through such philosophical hoops because your dog is not saddled with a devotion to sustaining life at all costs as humans in our society are. Your dog just enjoys life and loves his person because that's what dogs do. When they are ready to die, they do know, just as they know their other needs, including companionship. They like you to be with them, and they can leave in peace. They leave you with all that love and trust they gave you and a marvelous example of how to accept what is. (That's how they lower our blood pressure.) That's their gift and that's what you hang onto. None of what matters is about buying extra time.
posted by Anitanola at 10:36 PM on January 14, 2011 [3 favorites]
What everyone says above. All I can add is that perhaps you try to put yourself in dog mode for a little bit. Things may not be great, but they aren't all that bad either. You continue to enjoy the things you enjoy. You've still got a loving owner, and the occasional walk around. You chase things for fun, and you get a treat when you sit. Not too bad.
Sorry for your trouble. It would kill me to be in your position.
posted by Gilbert at 11:38 PM on January 14, 2011 [2 favorites]
Sorry for your trouble. It would kill me to be in your position.
posted by Gilbert at 11:38 PM on January 14, 2011 [2 favorites]
If it makes you feel any better, if I got ill and keeping me alive for a little bit longer would be a huge financial burden for my family, I fully intend to tell them it's not worth it. Enjoy what time with your friend you have, and realize that it's not worth the stress of financial ruin just to spend a few more months together.
posted by zachawry at 12:38 AM on January 15, 2011 [1 favorite]
posted by zachawry at 12:38 AM on January 15, 2011 [1 favorite]
My heart goes out to you -- this is beyond a doubt the hardest thing we face with our companions.
Dr. Couto is studying cancer in greyhounds and he and his research team at OSU are an incredible resource. I strongly encourage you to contact him (I will me-mail you the info) to see if information and assistance is available through their program.
For support, there is the Circle of Grey Yahoo group as well as Greytalk. Here's a thread there specifically about people's experiences with lymphoma in their greyhounds.
Remember your grey lives in the moment, and you can celebrate every good day with him. I will keep you both in my thoughts.
Everyone, go hug your dogs.
posted by vers at 4:02 AM on January 15, 2011 [1 favorite]
Dr. Couto is studying cancer in greyhounds and he and his research team at OSU are an incredible resource. I strongly encourage you to contact him (I will me-mail you the info) to see if information and assistance is available through their program.
For support, there is the Circle of Grey Yahoo group as well as Greytalk. Here's a thread there specifically about people's experiences with lymphoma in their greyhounds.
Remember your grey lives in the moment, and you can celebrate every good day with him. I will keep you both in my thoughts.
Everyone, go hug your dogs.
posted by vers at 4:02 AM on January 15, 2011 [1 favorite]
I'm really sorry you're going through this. As a crazy cat mom, I understand how painful it is to contemplate, much less face, your beloved friend's mortality.
One thing I've always tried to keep in mind with my pets, past and present, is that animals do not understand what is happening to them when they are getting chemotherapy. Chemo for people is bad enough, but at least people understand what they are doing and why. If chemo would have bought your dog a year, how much of that would be spent IN chemo, and with the dog feeling poorly, or at the vet's (which no pet likes)? How much would be spent in decline at the end, feeling unwell and being uncomfortable? I think it ends up being rather a lot of that year.
Don't feel badly about sparing your friend so many procedures, vet trips, and confusion. Enjoy, and help him enjoy, the time you have left. It's okay to choose this for your friend, and it's okay to cry and to grieve. There are pets I've lost that I still cry about when it crosses my mind, losses that were too meaningful and painful to forget or be blase about. Anyone who cannot respect your loss is not someone to whom you need to explain yourself.
Please take care of yourself during this difficult time, and I'll be thinking of you and your dog.
posted by Medieval Maven at 7:34 AM on January 15, 2011
One thing I've always tried to keep in mind with my pets, past and present, is that animals do not understand what is happening to them when they are getting chemotherapy. Chemo for people is bad enough, but at least people understand what they are doing and why. If chemo would have bought your dog a year, how much of that would be spent IN chemo, and with the dog feeling poorly, or at the vet's (which no pet likes)? How much would be spent in decline at the end, feeling unwell and being uncomfortable? I think it ends up being rather a lot of that year.
Don't feel badly about sparing your friend so many procedures, vet trips, and confusion. Enjoy, and help him enjoy, the time you have left. It's okay to choose this for your friend, and it's okay to cry and to grieve. There are pets I've lost that I still cry about when it crosses my mind, losses that were too meaningful and painful to forget or be blase about. Anyone who cannot respect your loss is not someone to whom you need to explain yourself.
Please take care of yourself during this difficult time, and I'll be thinking of you and your dog.
posted by Medieval Maven at 7:34 AM on January 15, 2011
I'm still grieving for my cat, whom I lost over 18 mos ago. Let's face it, he was the most dependable and faithful being I have ever known, and I was blessed to spend 18.5 years with him. He was awake and purring at me every time I rolled over at night, every time I went to the kitchen. Pets don't have human frailties -- they don't gossip behind your back, they don't cheat on you, etc, etc. They have their own short-comings but it's easy to excuse them, so our relationships with our pets are often so much easier than relationships with other people -- it makes perfect sense that we should grieve so hard for them, because it feels like an ideal and perfect love, gone forever.
Now, for the chemo . . . I'm an animal rights activist, and I don't believe in chemo for pets. For one, there are plenty of sick humans on this earth, and spending that kind of money on an animal seems wrong to me (even though NOT spending it does not mean it goes to people in need). Some person is dying because they don't have something we take for granted in our society -- if they should ever think "I am dying for lack of [cheap thing], but those people spend THOUSANDS on a dog . . ." -- I don't want to be the person they are thinking of. That is just my thought process, looking into my own heart -- a lot of people feel differently, and I don't judge them for that.
Secondly . . . chemo is hard. It's hard for my aunt, who knows and appreciates what experiences and time with her grandson it's buying her in the future. Lots of people decide it's not worth it the second or third time. An animal has no idea of why they are being made to endure this -- they only know it is awful right now, they don't know that it will ever be good again. They can't grasp that it's being done out of love.
My first foster dog was diagnosed with bone cancer right after I brought him home. Many times they can amputate and these dogs can have years of happiness ahead, but that was not the case for him. As he was from a kill shelter, the assumption was that I'd return him to be euthanized -- realistically, I could've been fostering a dog that would go on to a forever home, my resources going to a statistically positive outcome. But I asked that I be able to foster him until the end. I figured he'd not had much fun if he'd ended up at the pound, and I wanted him to have something good. So I took him home and it was all warm beds and peanut butter bones and everything good I could think of -- even a steak dinner at the end. I figured that no one could go back in time and give him a good life, but I could give him a perfect death, without fear, in loving arms. So that's what I tried to do.
posted by MeiraV at 7:54 AM on January 15, 2011 [2 favorites]
Now, for the chemo . . . I'm an animal rights activist, and I don't believe in chemo for pets. For one, there are plenty of sick humans on this earth, and spending that kind of money on an animal seems wrong to me (even though NOT spending it does not mean it goes to people in need). Some person is dying because they don't have something we take for granted in our society -- if they should ever think "I am dying for lack of [cheap thing], but those people spend THOUSANDS on a dog . . ." -- I don't want to be the person they are thinking of. That is just my thought process, looking into my own heart -- a lot of people feel differently, and I don't judge them for that.
Secondly . . . chemo is hard. It's hard for my aunt, who knows and appreciates what experiences and time with her grandson it's buying her in the future. Lots of people decide it's not worth it the second or third time. An animal has no idea of why they are being made to endure this -- they only know it is awful right now, they don't know that it will ever be good again. They can't grasp that it's being done out of love.
My first foster dog was diagnosed with bone cancer right after I brought him home. Many times they can amputate and these dogs can have years of happiness ahead, but that was not the case for him. As he was from a kill shelter, the assumption was that I'd return him to be euthanized -- realistically, I could've been fostering a dog that would go on to a forever home, my resources going to a statistically positive outcome. But I asked that I be able to foster him until the end. I figured he'd not had much fun if he'd ended up at the pound, and I wanted him to have something good. So I took him home and it was all warm beds and peanut butter bones and everything good I could think of -- even a steak dinner at the end. I figured that no one could go back in time and give him a good life, but I could give him a perfect death, without fear, in loving arms. So that's what I tried to do.
posted by MeiraV at 7:54 AM on January 15, 2011 [2 favorites]
Best answer: "I know that other people deal with losing real human relations, so it seems like I don't even have the right to be so upset about a dog. I mean, I've got five healthy grandparents, so why cry for a dog?"
I think part of what is so hard is that companion animals don't and can't understand what's happening to them. Humans, mostly, can. I mean, at 18 months my toddler is already curious about what the doctor's doing with the stethoscope and cooperative with them looking in his ears; my 8-year-old cat still FREAKS THE FUCK OUT because THAT STRANGE DUDE WHO SMELLS LIKE VET WANTS TO PUT A STETHOSCOPE ON ME MAKE IT STOP AND DO NOT TOUCH MY EARS OR I WILL BITE YOU.
I fell apart for two damn days -- two days! -- when one of my cats was diagnosed with diabetes, and we all had to take a day off work because we were such emotional basket cases when, two years later, he had to be put to sleep. I still get upset thinking about it. Whereas with my grandparents who died, there was a process, they knew what was coming, there was communal mourning, there was closure. That was harder to get with the cat. And my cat was dependent on me; my grandparents weren't. Losing my grandparents was "worse," but losing my cat was super-hard, in a different way, and there is so much less cultural ritual surrounding pet death than human death, which makes it harder to process.
As others have said, chemo for pets -- any complex treatment for pets -- isn't always a good choice. The life extension is limited and vet trips are very stressful for many pets, and they simply can't understand what's happening to them. And "quality of life," which mainly means comfort and happiness, is a big thing, since your dog isn't sitting there during treatment thinking, "Man, this kidney failure is painful, but I hope I live to see my granddaughter get married." No, your dog is thinking, "ow ow ow ow ow I hate this ow ow ow ow why is she doing this ow ow ow ow."
"I can't even think about what's going to happen when it's time to let him go."
It will suck major balls. You will probably have to take a day or two off work. You will lose an entire weekend to moping and crying and feeling awful. And then, eventually, it will hurt less-bad and, eventually, maybe really soon, maybe not for years, you will probably think, "I loved that dog so much, maybe I should get another one that I can give just as great a life." And then you'll do it again even though you know how many major balls it will suck at the end, because the joy of your life with the pet, and the pet's life with you, outweigh the pain of the loss. You'll find that out afterwards, when it hurts a little less.
posted by Eyebrows McGee at 8:13 AM on January 15, 2011 [2 favorites]
I think part of what is so hard is that companion animals don't and can't understand what's happening to them. Humans, mostly, can. I mean, at 18 months my toddler is already curious about what the doctor's doing with the stethoscope and cooperative with them looking in his ears; my 8-year-old cat still FREAKS THE FUCK OUT because THAT STRANGE DUDE WHO SMELLS LIKE VET WANTS TO PUT A STETHOSCOPE ON ME MAKE IT STOP AND DO NOT TOUCH MY EARS OR I WILL BITE YOU.
I fell apart for two damn days -- two days! -- when one of my cats was diagnosed with diabetes, and we all had to take a day off work because we were such emotional basket cases when, two years later, he had to be put to sleep. I still get upset thinking about it. Whereas with my grandparents who died, there was a process, they knew what was coming, there was communal mourning, there was closure. That was harder to get with the cat. And my cat was dependent on me; my grandparents weren't. Losing my grandparents was "worse," but losing my cat was super-hard, in a different way, and there is so much less cultural ritual surrounding pet death than human death, which makes it harder to process.
As others have said, chemo for pets -- any complex treatment for pets -- isn't always a good choice. The life extension is limited and vet trips are very stressful for many pets, and they simply can't understand what's happening to them. And "quality of life," which mainly means comfort and happiness, is a big thing, since your dog isn't sitting there during treatment thinking, "Man, this kidney failure is painful, but I hope I live to see my granddaughter get married." No, your dog is thinking, "ow ow ow ow ow I hate this ow ow ow ow why is she doing this ow ow ow ow."
"I can't even think about what's going to happen when it's time to let him go."
It will suck major balls. You will probably have to take a day or two off work. You will lose an entire weekend to moping and crying and feeling awful. And then, eventually, it will hurt less-bad and, eventually, maybe really soon, maybe not for years, you will probably think, "I loved that dog so much, maybe I should get another one that I can give just as great a life." And then you'll do it again even though you know how many major balls it will suck at the end, because the joy of your life with the pet, and the pet's life with you, outweigh the pain of the loss. You'll find that out afterwards, when it hurts a little less.
posted by Eyebrows McGee at 8:13 AM on January 15, 2011 [2 favorites]
While it's not true that most dogs respond poorly to chemo (most dogs have very few, if any, side effects), it IS true that lymphoma is pretty well almost always fatal, and chemo just buys you some time. The prednisone should help keep your dog comfortable, be sure that your oncologist talks to you about other pain management options, as well as diets and supplements that can help.
We have had several young dogs with lymphoma at the vet clinic I work at (it is a young dog's disease as a general rule), and the owners' decisions about chemo are always very personal. To some, buying that extra time is extraordinarily valuable, to have the dog around for another summer, or another birthday, or whatever. To others, the idea of prolonging the dog's life for such a comparatively short time is really just prolonging the dog's death and is far too painful and/or far to expensive to justify. Only you know what the right choice is. I could understand feeling guilty about not doing a curative treatment on a young dog, but this is not the situation with your dog, you do not need to add guilt to your burden of grief.
As to feeling guilty about grief. Grief is real, and who or what you grieve for is your own business. I do not feel that grief for a pet is any less valid than grief for a person, to many of us, our pets are just as much a part of our family as any human relation, and we grieve just as much for their deaths, sometimes more. It is nobody else's business how you grieve, or what you grieve for.
I am so sorry you are going through this, if I may offer you some suggestions from my experiences losing my cat to renal failure: take lots of pictures; keep a journal (writing it out can help you understand and cope better with how you are feeling, including the guilt, and looking back at it later can remind you of things you forgot); take it day by day and spoil your dog rotten; trust yourself to know when it is time to let your dog go. Hugs.
posted by biscotti at 10:17 AM on January 15, 2011
We have had several young dogs with lymphoma at the vet clinic I work at (it is a young dog's disease as a general rule), and the owners' decisions about chemo are always very personal. To some, buying that extra time is extraordinarily valuable, to have the dog around for another summer, or another birthday, or whatever. To others, the idea of prolonging the dog's life for such a comparatively short time is really just prolonging the dog's death and is far too painful and/or far to expensive to justify. Only you know what the right choice is. I could understand feeling guilty about not doing a curative treatment on a young dog, but this is not the situation with your dog, you do not need to add guilt to your burden of grief.
As to feeling guilty about grief. Grief is real, and who or what you grieve for is your own business. I do not feel that grief for a pet is any less valid than grief for a person, to many of us, our pets are just as much a part of our family as any human relation, and we grieve just as much for their deaths, sometimes more. It is nobody else's business how you grieve, or what you grieve for.
I am so sorry you are going through this, if I may offer you some suggestions from my experiences losing my cat to renal failure: take lots of pictures; keep a journal (writing it out can help you understand and cope better with how you are feeling, including the guilt, and looking back at it later can remind you of things you forgot); take it day by day and spoil your dog rotten; trust yourself to know when it is time to let your dog go. Hugs.
posted by biscotti at 10:17 AM on January 15, 2011
Best answer: As the asker in the question you linked to, I first want to tell you I know what you are going through. The financial issue was a big part of our decision not to treat. We were in the middle of looking for/purchasing our first home. We had already spent thousands on treatment before we knew it was cancer. If we had pursued chemo it would have eaten up our down payment.
I wish i could tell you that you won't feel guilty. But you will. You can't grieve without guilt because the guilt is part of the grieving. I still feel guilty, sometimes, over a year later. I still cry when i think about her, sometimes at work. I still miss her sweet face. I feel guilty that I don't love our new greyhound as much as I loved her (yet), even though we've only had him a few months so of course we haven't bonded with him as much. I still think sometimes that we euthanized her too soon. My heart is still broken. I mourn that she never got to enjoy the great house we purchased after her death.
In a way, it's like any breakup of a human relationship. It takes time to heal. It takes time to forgive yourself for making the decisions you had to make, even though you had to make them. Even though they were the best decisions to make.
I think what gets me through emotionally is what Sara C. said: your dog does not know he is dying. He does not mourn a future that won't exist. He does not have hopes and dreams that won't be fulfilled. All he knows is he loves you and you love him and give him a happy life, and that's all he will know up to and including the moment that you have to let him go.
I wish you the best and encourage you to contact me via memail if you would like. Internet hugs to you and your pup.
posted by misskaz at 3:36 PM on January 15, 2011 [1 favorite]
I wish i could tell you that you won't feel guilty. But you will. You can't grieve without guilt because the guilt is part of the grieving. I still feel guilty, sometimes, over a year later. I still cry when i think about her, sometimes at work. I still miss her sweet face. I feel guilty that I don't love our new greyhound as much as I loved her (yet), even though we've only had him a few months so of course we haven't bonded with him as much. I still think sometimes that we euthanized her too soon. My heart is still broken. I mourn that she never got to enjoy the great house we purchased after her death.
In a way, it's like any breakup of a human relationship. It takes time to heal. It takes time to forgive yourself for making the decisions you had to make, even though you had to make them. Even though they were the best decisions to make.
I think what gets me through emotionally is what Sara C. said: your dog does not know he is dying. He does not mourn a future that won't exist. He does not have hopes and dreams that won't be fulfilled. All he knows is he loves you and you love him and give him a happy life, and that's all he will know up to and including the moment that you have to let him go.
I wish you the best and encourage you to contact me via memail if you would like. Internet hugs to you and your pup.
posted by misskaz at 3:36 PM on January 15, 2011 [1 favorite]
Response by poster: Update:
Aaron let me know last night that it was time to go. The vet's office stayed open late so that we could make it there and not have to wait until morning. I stayed with him the whole time. It was the worst thing that I've ever seen.
When my aunt was diagnosed with cancer, rather than saying "Why me", she said "It is what it is." And so is this. He had cancer. Nobody could have predicted it, nobody could have prevented it, and nobody could have changed the final outcome. The grieving is also what it is. It sucks. It sucks worse than anything I've experienced in my life. It's going to continue sucking, but that's just what grief is, and I'm okay with it [the grief] now.
I want to thank all of you for your support. Your advice was invaluable, and it was tremendously helpful to know that I wasn't alone in this.
posted by specialagentwebb at 5:25 AM on January 29, 2011
Aaron let me know last night that it was time to go. The vet's office stayed open late so that we could make it there and not have to wait until morning. I stayed with him the whole time. It was the worst thing that I've ever seen.
When my aunt was diagnosed with cancer, rather than saying "Why me", she said "It is what it is." And so is this. He had cancer. Nobody could have predicted it, nobody could have prevented it, and nobody could have changed the final outcome. The grieving is also what it is. It sucks. It sucks worse than anything I've experienced in my life. It's going to continue sucking, but that's just what grief is, and I'm okay with it [the grief] now.
I want to thank all of you for your support. Your advice was invaluable, and it was tremendously helpful to know that I wasn't alone in this.
posted by specialagentwebb at 5:25 AM on January 29, 2011
Thank you so much for updating us. I'm sending big fat virtual hugs and [insert comforting baked goods here] to you. It's impossible to endure and yet it must be endured. Your heart is broken open, but love rushes in. And the filling of your heart with love will spark an inspiration to action, to a new life.
posted by hecho de la basura at 6:37 PM on January 30, 2011
posted by hecho de la basura at 6:37 PM on January 30, 2011
This thread is closed to new comments.
Don't feel guilty about grieving, either. He's a part of your family, and just because he's not human doesn't make him any less special to you. Love him while he's here and create fond memories to cherish.
posted by bolognius maximus at 7:48 PM on January 14, 2011 [7 favorites]