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Jane1022

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  1. This is such a sad story...I am absolutely certain from reading this that you have been the most careful, caring and vigilant dog mom there could be. There is conscientiousness in every sentence of your story, and to have this happen, when you worked so diligently and successfully to prevent it all of these years...this was in no way your fault, and your darling Ellie obviously felt a glowing and special love from you every single day of her life with you (from a puppy, it looks like from the photos). Going to work, when your husband was there to take her...I mean, we all do have to go to work; you had no reason to think this was more than exploratory surgery to be on the safe side...I wish I could say more to help. Again--in the photos you show, in every word you write, I can tell how much you loved Ellie and the extraordinary lengths you did go to to keep her from eating the wrong thing. And.they.all.do.it.--believe me, most of us know. But most of the time we are lucky, or most of the time they aren't quite as persistent as your Ellie was. I am so very sorry this happened, and I am thinking of you.
  2. Dear Anthony_Miami, I was also OCD about Crispin's care. Crispin was not as healthy as Gisella--Goldens are a truly wonderful breed with all-around good temperaments that are at once loving, kind of goofy (they do funny things and it does seem as though they are sharing in the joke), highly intelligent, utterly people-oriented (not guard dogs, that's for sure) and very much attuned to the moods and actions of their owners or pet parents, as I think of us--showing a natural empathy of sorts, and wanting to be with them and please them. But they have been overbred, at least here in the US and probably Canada, due to their popularity and about 60 percent die of cancer, though usually not at the young age that Crispin did. The whole "show dog/stud dog" phenomenon has resulted in too few sires for thousands of puppies who wind up interrelated... Crispin and I traveled to Cornell more than once as he had inflammatory bowel disease, finally diagnosed and successfully treated there. In that process, I made a solid good acquaintance with a young veterinarian who at that time was doing his graduate studies, post-DVM, to become certified in internal medicine and in nutrition (both are highly related to IBD). He's now a tenure track professor at Cornell and has been a great resource for help all during Crispin's life, giving me referrals to Cornell grads he knows and trusts who have moved out our way (these are all, alas, specialists; Crispin had more than one). I was touched when he had a tree planted in Crispin's honor after he died. The emergency clinic here is attached to the specialty clinic, but the specialists tend to be much longer in tenure and much better than the ER vets, who seem a bit transient and not of the quality of the specialists. I have read on veterinary sites that it's hard to hire ER vets right now, for reasons mysteriously related to the pandemic. I think we got slightly better care there because the techs all knew Crispin and, of course, when they threatened to make us wait 6 hours in the car before looking at Crispin (this was for some problem during his cancer, not at the end), I was able to pitch a fit because he was an existing patient at the practice, and be seen earlier. Still, what about all of those other dogs? I do see your point about your vet. He should, however, have humbly admitted his mistake and offered you a tearful apology. That is what my vet would do under such gut-wrenching circumstances; after all, Gisella was his patient for 11 years. But he did the next best thing and immediately fired the bad off-hours vet. My point then about Gisella's health is to consider what I went through (you don't need to know every detail), and the contacts I had made, and frankly the respect I got from some of these very good veterinarian specialists because I was what John from Cornell called "a committed owner" of a dog with some issues. I have been to every emergency clinic in the Capital District (ok, there are only two). I know the specialty practice so well that they sent me a card signed by numerous staff who knew Crispin. This is because Crispin didn't share Gisella's robust health, frankly. This is why I think you are being too hard on yourself. How could you know what I was horridly forced to learn? And by the way, I know a little about vestibular disease. Our prior dog, Jasper--and I loved them both equally, with quite an intensity--anyway, Jasper thankfully lived to be almost 13, so I did in his case get to see the four seasons in a dog's life, from puppyhood to the very slightly graying muzzle...anyway, Crispin suddenly could not walk straight. He already had a neurologist because he had, in his old age, developed a degenerative neuromuscular disease that I was fighting like crazy by taking him for swim therapy 3X a week in a lovely pool, 60 miles away, with a physical therapist (big help)--and acupuncture (not as clear whether that helped, but you do whatever might). The neurologist was delighted that Jasper was actually gaining muscle; then he suddenly developed a side tilt--he could not walk straight. It was initially diagnosed and treated as vestibular disease, and I read about it considerably. However it did not get better in a week, so we had an MRI. He had a brain tumor, inoperable; located in the part of the brain that controls balance. His neurologist was so sad he came out of the MRI room and called me in, told me and offered a hug. Jasper did not live much longer, although that neurologist tried everything, from steroids to a meat-flavored, compounded antioxidant topping for his food...but Jasper was a month shy of 13, and I've become grateful for that now. I am not saying that your dog had a brain tumor--just that I understand that with those symptoms, one of three diseases are likely: vestibular disease (the much preferred diagnosis), stroke, and...what my dog had. How I wish you could have gone to the right doctor under your circumstances...I promise that they do exist, but I agree that in most instances, going to an ER clinic is not a good experience. It used to be better, but something has changed. I prayed, literally, that when Crispin's time inevitably came, he could pass softly in my arms with the assistance of his regular vet, as Jasper did. Unfortunately it did not happen that way, for the same reason as for you--Crispin's "bleed" happened over the Fourth of July weekend. But Crispin was a very sick dog, whereas there should have been options and hope for Gisella. I'd post a photo of my dog(s) but it might make me cry, which I don't need any more of...too much to do today. I also brought Crispin home in the cabin of a plane--as with you I'm not sending my baby puppy on cargo--but the trip from Toronto to Albany is nothing like the transatlantic flight you describe! However, customs between the USA and Canada were easy in 2013, and the entire Toronto airport seemed to dote on that puppy, insisting on photographing him, carrying him for me, taking our photo on the tarmac. It was lovely. Another dog? My husband didn't want to get Crispin, but agreed to do it for me. And although he left veterinary care to me (because I was the OCD one), he loved that pup, took him for five walks a day no matter the weather (and we live in Upstate NY), took him to his beloved dog park...went through the roller coaster of worry about various health problems that were unfortunately a part of Crispin's life, though I managed to swat away most problems by getting him the very best care no matter the cost, and following instructions assiduously. Even kept him alive through a year of one of the cancers with the worst trajectories out there--so much so that his oncologist told me he had already outlived most dogs in any existing clinical trials for new treatments; she was frankly amazed at the length of his survival (they initially told us something like 30-90 days). We spent a small fortune on his care, and I regret nothing nor did my husband ever complain. Every dog is different, just like siblings. But I think what helped me during my period of mourning Jasper, was knowing there would likely be a puppy. Yet when there was...I was not over Jasper. We got Crispin 14 months after Jasper died. It is to my everlasting misery that I remember how I compared those dogs, and even wanted little Crispin, who needed me so much (and I was responsive, I absolutely promise) to be more like Jasper (who was easy, healthier, more boisterous and playful). It melted away into a complete love of the dog who was mine, but it took some time until I realized just how much I loved that dog, my Crispin, and how much he loved me in his Crispin way. And I still feel guilt and sorrow at the thought, and will take my time to think this through, and give my sorrow for the dear dog I lost, plenty of time to play out without planning for any new dog. I have loved my two dogs intensely, and losing them has been, in each case, hard on my marriage in that it takes me many, many months before the tears do not easily flow. And we can't get another Golden at our age--the dog is quite big and strong. As it was, I've had too many surgeries and could not walk Crispin, who was a gentle soul but a large and strong one; it fell entirely onto my husband. As would any other dog larger than about 10-15 pounds. We took care of a chihuahua for two weeks recently, and she was SO NOT Crispin...it's just too early. I If I decide I can't live without a dog, it will be a discussion for another day, a year or more from now, when I have gotten much better than I am now. I also think someday you may soften your position; at least I hope so, because you are so very able to care kindly and lovingly for a dog, and they have been a long time a part of your life. Anyway time to continue with my day; I wish you well in these very, very early nightmarish days. Time will pass, and your capable self will find a way to move from where you are now, to somewhere better, perhaps with special meaning for Gisella. I'm off. Thinking of you, Gisella, and wishing you well. Best to you, Anthony_Miami--
  3. This is my first post. Although our cases are not identical, I can relate to much of what you are saying about the degree of your emotional investment in Gisella and deep grief for her loss. And also I want to stop to say what a beautiful dog she was; not only beautiful, but adorable in a way that would twist your heart just to look at her. I lost my beautiful and still too young (8, diagnosed at 7 with hemangiosarcoma) English Golden Retriever, Crispin, over the Fourth of July weekend. I'm still very much in the deep throes of grief, which is why I found this site. I stay busy--I'm retired from a great career (maybe not as great as yours! -- but still I'm proud of it), but have recently become the president of our HOA, and I can function--but nothing helps the pain. Nothing. If I push it away, it festers; periods of wild weeping ensue. My husband is tired of it. He grieves in his own way, but losing Crispin has not had the same impact on him (I think it's perhaps because he has a human child, a grown son, whereas my dogs have truly been my children). Thus, I am here. If Gisella was a healthy dog during her lifetime, who infrequently needed much more than her annual exam, for good reason, you wouldn't have extensive knowledge about the veterinary community there; who was good, who was not. So give yourself a break. You dog was suffering badly and you were in panic and shock. You had trusted your vet. You desperately wanted to protect her and end her suffering in the only way you saw possible. Your vet's comment about its being a "business decision" is a truly horrible "kicker" to the event--try to imagine, if you can, an MD saying that he allowed an incompetent colleague to take his call as a "business decision" after the subsequent death of his patient. No veterinarian should ever say, or even think, such a thing. Maybe "there were no alternatives and I'd been working thirty days straight," but never "it was a business decision." The other way our situations are perhaps similar is that, as I said, I have no children. My two dogs awakened me to "mom" feelings for the first time. I was a dogmom to my dogs. I loved--still love them immensely; they have added so much unconditional love and devotion to my life that I will always be grateful. And their very dependency on me provoked such feelings of tenderness that I would otherwise not have experienced. I was sixty when we got Crispin, and now I'm 69. That's a big difference. He was supposed to live well into my seventies...how I miss those years I will not have with him. My husband is 70 and though very fit, does not want another dog, and I can't even think of any dog but Crispin, anyway. Still, part of my grief is in the knowing that losing my darling Crispin, who died relatively young, ended my career as a dogmom. To be without this source of joy--and yet, a dog can no more be replaced than a person can be, and the grief of loss is really overpowering. Today is ten years to the day that our first dog, Jasper, died. I wish you the very best in your recovery, Anthony_Miami, and I know it's a long, difficult road.
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