2002-05-18
7:04 p.m.

Hands steady on the black bag, wating. Watch Dr. C doing compressions, she stops, sqeeze bag. Epinephrin. Squeeze bag. "Come on puppy. Don't give up." Hold compressions. Heart begins beating, rate goes up. Squeeze bag. Dog begins breathing. Dr. C goes to the bathroom. Heart rate plummits. I begin compressions, trying to explain to Ellyn how to work the oxygen. Dr. C comes in, I continue compressions. Hold compressions. V-fib...asystole. Nothing. Oxygen off, EKG off, life exists no longer.

That was my day at work. I wanted so bad to save this young puppy. I kept thinking, maybe if I could save him, it would somehow make up for the fact that I couldn't save Max. We had him for a minute, he was coming back, but he lost the will to live. I was helpless. I've never done compressions on a dog, but my instinct took over. Nothing else mattered, but what I was doing. Then, it was over. BAM! Life blinked out, like a candle in a storm. I turned around, and I kicked the wall out of anger. Dr. C came up behind me, and put a hand on my shoulder. It was a gesture of shared pain. I heard her mutter "dammit" as she walked out the door. I looked at the blister welling up on my thumb from our oxygen bag, and I just had to take a break. I know I can't save them all, but it sure doesn't stop me from trying darn hard. ::sigh::

Thank you all for your "I'm sorry's," they really do mean a lot to me. I think I am okay though. I mean, it hurts a lot, but, I will get up tomorrow, the sun will still shine, and life will go on. I will see Max, and all my other animals that have passed before me in another time and place.



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