Things here have been up and down - such is the life of all of us, of course, but the ride has been a whole lot wilder recently.
The last week or so have been insane - major medication changes, toxic reactions, wicked increase in seizures, a grandparent who doesn't think that Bee's seizures are anything to worry about because she doesn't convulse, consultation with a surgeon for more procedures... very much up and down.
So, on our way back home from the surgeon's appointment 200 km away, we come upon a young man standing in the middle of the road whose dog has just been hit by a dump truck. I am a paramedic by trade, so we do what we can, but there is no way he can transport the dog in his car. We load him and his dog up into our truck and turn around to head back into the city to get them to an emergency veterinary clinic... the dog was conscious and breathing when we arrived. I just rung the clinic and the dog died last night from massive head injuries.
I am not sure why, perhaps it is just that this is the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, but knowing that we were unable to help just has me gutted. It was obvious that this dog was his master's "everything" - his anguish was palpable. I am feeling right now the same way I did if we lost a patient back when I was working for the ambulance service.
I am having a tough time finding my happy place right now
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Could use a honk or two
12 replies
BeeMom · 16/02/2013 17:14
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PolterGoose ·
16/02/2013 18:31
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zzzzz ·
16/02/2013 19:10
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