jenn

I just stopped by this web site to see how things have been going. My last visit must have been at least two years ago... maybe more. I was grieving over my father's death, followed by the loss of my wonderful dog. Ms. Tousley's web site was the first place I posted a message, just one hour after having him put to sleep. I was desperate for help in understanding the incredible pain I was going through. I felt so alone, almost as if I was the only one in the world who could be so broken up about losing a pet. What an amazing help those first few responses were, from people who were going through the very same thing. It was truly magical, that someone I never even met, could help heal the worst pain I have ever experienced in my entire life. I am glad to see that so many of you have found this resource to help you heal as well. I don't think you could have picked a better place. I have read some of the messages and I can relate to many of the feelilngs expressed in them. This type of pain is far worse than any physical pain I can think of because there is nothing that can take it away, but time. I wish you all the very best. Ms. Tousley will always be here for you. Please take comfort in knowing that she truly cares. Jenn

My dad was the best. He was one of those people you always wanted to invite to your party. He was so generous and thoughtful and so very funny. He taught us good principles to live by and was always there when we needed him. He spent his life making sure we were happy. He died 4 years ago from cancer. Christmas has never been the same since. It means nothing to me without him here. I still receive mail from all the charities he gave so generously to at Christmas time. I bought a little tree and decorated it with a string of tiny lights and irridescent tinsel. I wanted it to shine when I placed on his grave. Then I saw a sparkly gold wreath that was perfect to set the tree in. The sun was still up when I was at the cemetary and it was beginning to lightly rain. As I was leaving, I turned around and looked at this dull and lifeless tree, no shine, no sparkle, but it was still too light outside. Last night, I tried to picture the tree and wreath in my mind, shining and twinkling from the reflection of the lights. I hoped with all my heart that it was almost as beautiful as his memory is to me. Merry Christmas Dad. I love you.

Dear Alice, Thank you so much for the thoughtful reply. I believe you are right about most all of it. He really was on his way out and I seriously doubt he would have enjoyed going through whatever time he had left, in the shape he was in. It's interesting you should mention the pain medication. When I first found out my dad had cancer in all his organs, the main thing that came to mind was how to make sure we didn't get a doctor who would hold back for whatever ridiculous reasons. I could never understand that. Anyway, everything was a complete disaster from that point on, but the one thing I have to say they did well, was giving him plenty of morphine. He was in the hopsital for about a week and even though he was not himself and acted like he'd lost his mind, it was better than seeing him in pain. I really don't believe he would have remembered any of it, if he'd made it through. I am so sorry you had to experience such difficulties with your dad in the hospital. It seems to happen a lot, doesn't it? I read somewhere that in 1998 I believe, 20,000 hospital deaths were due to hospital blunders and mix ups. I don't know why, but reading that kind of made me feel better about my dad, although I would never wish this type of experience on anyone. Not looking forward to mom's departure either. Is your mom still alive? Jenn

Hi, I lost my dad to cancer June, 1999. It still seems like yesterday. I had a terrible time getting over it and really don't know if I have or not. For a while, my life seemed to be getting back on track, but just recently, I find myself consumed with thoughts about him. Here's the problem. My brother and I had to make the decision to withdraw life support while he was in the hopsital. It seemed like an easy decision to me and to the rest of our family. My brother was not so sure. I ended up talking him into it, based on the assumption that the cancer had spread throughout his body. So we let him go. We agreed to have an autopsy performed, to confirm our beliefs and to find out what the doctors were not able to figure out. There were a lot of unanswered questions that seem common in hospitals these days. That's a whole different subject. Anyway, just our luck we end up with some wacko forensic pathologist who took four months to give us the report, but only after we insisted. Long story short, she did not address any of the questions we asked and provided a basically useless report that we could not understand. If we are reading it right, it does appear to show a lot less cancer than we thought he had and to what degree of damage, we just can't tell. She refused to discuss the report with us, because she was mad that we got pushy after four months of nothing, so we can't look to her for answers. We showed the report to a cancer doctor who could not come up with a reasonable explanation either. The cause of death was "acquiescing metastatic cancer due to radiation and chemotherapy." I am not sure if that means my dad gave in to the cancer, the cancer was giving in to the radiation, or the radiation and chemotherapy caused his death. It's almost as if she worded it that way, just to cause confusion. On top of all of this, his doctor listed the cause of death as pneumonia, which is true, since he caught it there in the hospital, but the pathologist could have done such a lousy job, that she overlooked this, which doesn't do us a whole lot of good, trusting the report at all! It has now been four years and I am feeling like I still don't know exactly how my father died or if our decision was right or wrong or what. I feel like I have been avoiding the real answer, by not sending the report to another autopsy service to review and explain to us. I know it can be done, but something is keeping me from taking this step. I just keep putting it off. I don't know whether I should just leave things as they are, or get the answer I may not want to hear. The rest of our family thinks my brother and I are dwelling on it too much and should just accept the fact that our dad died of cancer. Well, we know this, but they don't understand the pressure it puts on you, when you make the decision to end someone's life for them. I know our dad's life was precious to him and he would have chosen to continue on, if there were a chance to stay in this world a little longer. Even one day was like gold to him. He was taken so fast. One day he finds out he has cancer, the next day he has two months to live and the following week he is dead. He never even had the chance to accept it. It was awful seeing how scared he was and how much he wanted to live. And now I feel like I pulled the plug too soon, but I was sure as ever, that he was headed for so much pain. The cancer was (supposedly) everywhere, lungs, liver, bone marrow, spine, etc. So I would love to hear some honest opinions. Do I sound like I am too obsessed with this? Or am I avoiding the truth and need to face up to it? I don't get offended easily and really need the advice. I have not discussed this with anyone, except my brother who feels exactly the same as me, but without the added guilt of being the one who talked the other one into it. Thanks for listening. It feels kind of good, just typing the whole thing out. There are some other people who are asking for support and I am going to see if I can answer them. I never realized so many others had difficulty losing their parents like I did and it is comforting to know I'm not alone, but I would never wish this on anyone. Jenn

Hi Patty and Mini Doxie Mom, What great news to hear about your new babies! When I was a teenager, getting into all sorts of trouble, I got drunk one night with my friends and woke up the next day with a terrible hangover. My dad thought it was funny and offered me a beer, just to see me turn green! It was the first time I heard the expression "Hair of the dog that bit you". He was kidding of course, but I never forgot the expression. Although not applicable in any way to our grief, it always comes to mind when I hear about people who get new pets after losing one. When you think about it, the expression is quite fitting. With a positive attitude and courage, you can get over the hurdle and learn to love another pet, not in place of, but in addition to the one you lost. The happy times with any pet will always outweigh the sad. Patty, I never realized a horse was pregnant for a whole 9 months! What an amazing thing to look forward to. It's gotta be pretty darn close to having your own. How exciting, my goodness, I'm just trying to picture a horse in her ninth month of pregnancy. Don't forget about us with all the updates. When I walk my dogs, we see some horses in their stables and I think I've mentioned this to you before, but what does it mean when they stand there looking at you, then bob their head up and down? Does it bother them to have someone standing there, staring at them from a distance? One in particular, seems to have such charm. I can imagine how much a person could fall in love with one of these beautiful creatures. I guess I am a bit partial to large pets. Of course, those mini doxies are pretty darn cute too. Jenn

I haven't been the same since my dad died either. It's been 4 years, so I assume I'll never be the same again. I don't look at it as a change for the worse anymore though. I just have a different outlook on life, knowing that things aren't always going to be fine and can even get downright awful at times. I know I won't think "it'll never happen to me" again. One positive thing that came from my dad's death is how much I try to be like him in day to day life now. It's a shame, but I never would have thought to do this when he was alive. I just wish he knew what a lasting impression he made on so many people. He would have really been proud of that. It took me such a long time to "snap out of it" after he died, that a friend recommended this seminar or weekend course that was geared toward helping people organize their lives and reach their goals, blah, blah, blah. It wasn't for people who lost their loved ones, but more of a self help sort of thing. My life was such a mess that I was open to anything that might help. The class was kind of weird, but one particular exercise we did was the most amazing experience for me, that it made the whole thing worth the time and effort. They were trying to get everyone to let go of whatever problems they had growing up with their parents. You know, like parents who were critical or never said "I love you" or were abusive to their kids. Well, none of this really applied to me, but in the exercise they had us close our eyes and go back in our memory to when we were very young and we were supposed to picture first our dad standing in front of us and then they told us all to talk to our dads and say the things we never got to say to them all our lives. Well, I was immediately in tears, but the strange thing is that I let down all my inhibitions about being in a group of people because everyone's eyes were closed anyway, and I really felt like I was talking to my dad and he could somehow hear me or something. I was able to tell him all the things I never got to say before he died. This is one of the biggest complaints people have when someone dies. (Wish I could have said this or that, now it's too late, etc., etc.). So anyway, I just sat there and poured my heart out and blubbered through the whole thing and even though it was a gut wrenching experience, I felt really good afterward because it was like finally saying good-bye or letting go or whatever you want to call it. I couldn't seem to do it up until then. Sorry to be so long winded, but I thought you all would like to hear how a little insignificant thing could have such great results. I will never forget it. It was probably the most helpful thing I ever did for myself. Jenn

Dear Wendy, I read your message with such sadness for you and your husband. I have not experienced this type of loss and can only imagine the pain you must be feeling right now. I don't think there is any rhyme or reason for the way a person grieves and especially in your case, never having had the chance to know this beautiful child before he was taken away. All your feelings seem natural, although confusing to you, it's not surprising that you are struggling to find a way to deal all of it. It's a lot to deal with! Talking, crying, writing, and anything else you do are all forms of working through your grief and you should look at it as healthy and good for you, as much and long as you need to them. I know there are people out there who can relate to your experience and offer so much in the way of compassion and understanding and it's only a matter of time before you find each other and share the tremendous pain you are going through. If you do a search on the internet for grief support using keywords such as miscarriage or still born or loss of child or infant, you will find many other people that way as well. Here is a special story I found for a friend who was going through the same thing as you: http://www.erichad.com/lindsay/index.htm And another link you might find helpful: http://www.pain-heartache-hope.com/home.htm Good luck Wendy. Even though I can't directly relate to your pain, I just want you to know I care. Jenn

Hello, I guess I'm the first one to post a message in this category. I never thought in a million years, that I would feel such tremendous pain from losing a pet. It's been over a year now and I still remember the way I felt the day I put my dog down. He was diagnosed with dilated cardiomyopathy (enlarged heart) and we kept him on medication for 8 months, before he got to the point where I knew what had to be done for him. I remember telling people that I was prepared for the sadness and remembering the times I lost pets before him, I knew it would only take a few days to get over. Boy was I wrong. I think I may have just brushed aside the feelings while I cared for him and never dealt with any of it until after he was gone. I was with him when he took his last breath, but just couldn't look. I was afraid I would see something that would leave a lasting impression in my memory for the rest of my life. So I looked the other way and just held his head and when reality struck and he was gone, the emotion just poured out of me. It was actually scary, the way I found myself reacting. I think the vet was even a little shocked. On the ride home, I cried harder than I have ever cried in my life. Never even knew I could sound that way. I was afraid to walk into my empty house and face life without him. He was such a big part of my life and it never dawned on me what things would be like there alone. It was such a horrible feeling, I just knew I had so much pain to deal with in the days or weeks or months to follow. I couldn't do anything but cry. Well things got a little better, then they got worse, then better, then worse and eventually after making a lot of new friends on line who shared my pain, I started seeing more positive days, than negative ones. I finally got myself in the frame of mind where I could consider getting another dog, which to me, was the only way I could fill that big empty space in my heart. Now, a year later, I have my new dog and I had to get another one too! I guess the empty space he left was too big for just one dog, I don't know. But they are definitely helping in that respect. They have their own personalities, which I am already in love with and naturally, I dread the day I lose them as well, but for me, it's worth it just to have them. I still miss my first dog and I think he will always be that one special soul mate everyone talks about. There are so many things I wish I could do over again with him. It's such a shame that we can't appreciate things near as much as we do when they are gone. Jenn

You put a smile on my face too. Thanks. This calls for a silly icon. Jenn

My dad had metastatic cancer too. It was in his liver, lungs, prostate, bone marrow and spine. You describe so many of the same things I went through in his last days. It is so hard to live with those memories, imagining what it must have been like for him. I felt like he never deserved any of it. He was the most generous, loving, caring person I ever knew and it just seemed so unfair for him to learn that he was going to die from such a horrible disease. He never accepted the fact. He was in denial all the way up to the moment he died. He was so scared. I could tell just by knowing him so well and from the expressioins on his face. The morphine made communicating with him very difficult, but at least it appeared to help him with the pain. It was just awful to see what he went through though. I will never understand why this happens to such good people and why we are left with these memories to haunt us forever. This may help to think about. Try and remember the last time you hurt yourself physically. A broken bone or surgery or even a visit to the dentist (which for me, is pretty awful). Now that it's over, do you look back at the pain you were in with any regret? No. You're just glad it's over and you really don't care that it happened at all. If someone said they could wipe it from your memory, you probably wouldn't even ask them to do it, now that it's over. The same thing applies to your dad. I doubt he's feeling any remourse for what he went through and is more likely to be having a better time now, than any of us are if you believe in that sort of thing. The important thing to remember is that the pain and suffering is over for him and that's something to be very glad about now. Hope this helped in some way. I do understand how you feel. You describe it so perfectly. The details were very similar to mine. There is just nothing worse that I can imagine. Jenn

You sound like the type of person who may not benefit from medications to help you through this difficult time. Some people may not want to face reality yet (unlike you) and need to find a way to just get through the next day, which may seem impossible to them. But it sounds like you are trying to do what's best for yourself now, while looking to the future, which is not all that easy, knowing your dad is not part of it anymore. Everything you say, makes good sense to me and I can tell how terribly difficult it is for you to believe you will make it through okay at this point. When I was at the point where everything in my life seemed to fall apart (including myself) and I thought I had hit rock bottom, I hadn't yet. The roller coaster ride everyone refers to is exactly that. Up and down, good days, bad days, no apparent reason for sudden bouts of crying or depression. Just dealing with whatever I had to deal with and moving along I suppose is the best way to describe it. But at some point, the good days begin to outnumber the bad days and the progress begins to go in the right direction. It's so slow that you don't actually notice it happening. But the important thing is that it does happen. It gets better, believe me. It may not seem like it to you, but from my viewpoint, I see someone who is making a positive effort to recover from their loss after reading your words. One of the most helpful things of all is to reach out to others and just talk it out, over and over, as many times as you want. And it does feel good, even though no one has all the answers or even understands exactly how you feel. At least you know you aren't alone. I never realized before, just how many others shared my feelings about certain things that I thought I was the only person in the world to experience. But they do. And they also have things to say that I never thought about before. Things that really help. Whatever suggestions you may get from people, or advice or ideas that sound like they may help, I say go for it. When they don't sound right for you (like the drugs) then pass them up. You have a level head and a good attitude and will make it through this just fine. I can tell. I wish I had more specific ideas, but the things I tried were so vast and off the wall, I can't really recommend them for someone else, with much confidence. None of them worked for me, just small parts that I found helpful to learn about. Example: Self Improvement Seminars, Dianetics, etc., etc., etc.). I tried practically everything and wasn't ever sorry I did. At least they got my mind concentrating on something positive. Hang in there, okay? Jenn

Dear Lil Viper, I know how you feel. Losing my dad was devastating. It will be four years on June 26th that I lost him and the sadness never goes away. One thing I can say is that life does get easier, once you are not in as much shock and disbelief asw you are now. Everyone is different and there is no way of telling how long it will be before you feel different. I think the harest part about grief in extreme cases like this, is not being able to make it go away like we do with physical pain. Or at least we have ways of treating it. There is no way to treat or cure the pain from losing someone you love, but you can work on learning to accept the loss and living a happy life. I tried so many different programs and therapy and kept an open mind to people's suggestions, no matter how little good I thought it would do. None of this miraculously changed me into a well balanced person. I'm still not that and I doubt I ever will be, but that's not important to me anyway. I benefited in one way or another from everything I went through, seminars, classes, group meetings, private sessions, reading, researching, talking with people and learning a lot of things about myself and life. Combined, all of this gave me a fairly positive attitude, but the time played a big part in it as well. Here I am, four years later and I can still cry at the thought of my dad. I still think of him every day. The pain is not as intense, but it's still there and always will be. Try to concentrate more on what you can do for yoursef, than what you think may come of you. Take control of your future a little at a time and don't feel that sleeping too much or taking medication or anything else is somehow going to put you out of touch. You are dealing with a very difficult thing right now and need to know it's okay to act different while you get through it. Just remember that there is a future for you and you will see brighter days as long as you strive to get there with an open mind. No time limit. Just time. I wish you the best of luck and happiness. That's what your dad would want too. Jenn