Three Months & Five Days Later.....

PART I

 

When I lost  Bootsie, I really went downhill, even to the point of going back on Paxil. (I didn't continue with that though, because I couldn't find the patience for its' side effects).  

Every day and night I've cried for Boots. I've avoided driving my car as much as possible. It was just too painful. Bootsie was always with me in the car, and she so loved accompanying me on even the shortest drives.  

About 2 weeks after I lost Bootsie, her ashes were delivered back to the vets. I asked Jason to take me to get her, and he said ""OK, let me just watch the end of my movie and we'll go." I told HIM, "Forget it, then. My Bootsie's spent ENOUGH time in a clinic that she hated to be in! I'm getting her NOW."  With that, I was off.   When I drove home with her, I could hardly see the road through my tears. Here I was, taking this final drive with my baby. Instead of Bootsie standing in my lap with her little face out the window- eyes squinting into the wind, then bopping back into the car and doing a little dance in the passenger seat, she lay still and silent in a pine box. The weight of the box  containing her was so very small in comparison to Bootsie's 14.5 pound body. The realization of all of this was almost more than I could bare.  

 

It took me until the day of my birthday to break the tape on the cardboard box and remove the pinebox that was inside. The urn itself is not sealed.  The lid has 2 hinges at the back, allowing it to be lifted up at the front. Initially, I was upset about this.  Now I am not. You see, I was never given a choice as to what my Bootsie would be placed in. This is such a personal thing, and I don't like the dark brown pine box she lays in now. It's a rectangular shape......too strong a resemblance to a coffin. I want a square shaped, light colored wood holder, that I can have personalized just for her.  In this, I am glad that the box is hinged. I am scared to death to look inside. I never have yet. When I do get a new holder. I will have to transfer Bootsie to it, and it's at that time that I will have to cope with the transformation.  

After that drive home with Bootsie, my car was garaged. I told Jason "I don't want to drive anymore."  And I meant it. I garaged my car, and only took it out when absolutely necessary.  Even then, I would avoid it as much as I could.  

Bootsie left me on December 10th, and since that time, I have not been able to look out into the backyard. I've had the drapes closed since that day. I did force myself to peek out of the curtains once.....that was last week. The first time my eyes has seen that yard in over 2 months. I could only manage to do it for about 5 seconds. You see, that was BOOTSIE'S backyard. I always told her that, She loved it so much back there.  

Every night, I've cried. I've blamed God, I've blamed myself, I've blamed others. I've felt stinging regrets for times I should've paid my little Boots more attention and didn't, should've read more about her illnesses but hadn't, etc.   I have since come to see that of all the blame I tossed around, God didn't deserve any at all. (I've since apologized to Him)! If anything, God was VERY busy helping me and Bootsie, and working behind the scenes in ways I could not imagine.  

For example, we scheduled Bootsie for exploratory surgery to make sure that she didn't have a liver tumor, and alsoto remove her gallbladder which we knew was not functioning. When Dr. Woods (our internal med. vet) looked inside Bootsie, his suspicions were confirmed that her gallbladder was in bad shape.... but it was nothing compared to the condition of her liver. My poor Bootsie was in end-stage cirrhosis.  

I was dumbfounded. How could this be???? I thought we were on TOP of this! I thought Bootsie was doing so well!   To this very day, I still have the recording Bootsie's vet left on my recorder about her last blood test results. She said, (and I can quote from memory), "Her liver levels are still high, but they're down about half from where they were the last time we checked two months ago.... so I'm really very pleased with that! She looks just great and I think she's doing just excellent!"   Now, in my mind, I believed that I was doing everything right. I believed that we were on top of this, and that we were monitoring the extent of Bootsie's liver disease very well, and had it under control. I trusted that our vet, Dr. Zakos, would implement liver-specific meds when and if the need should arise. Bootsie was never given any special drugs for her liver, only Milk Thistle, Vitamin E, S.O.D. supplement, and Life Exxtension supplements, plus a prescription diet for liver compromised dogs: Science Diet L/D.   So what happened?  

From what I understand, the symptoms of end-stage cirrhosis are as follows:

* Loss of appetite

* Wasting away of body

* Ascites (the swollen fluid-filled tummy look)

* Vomiting

* Diarreah (with blood in it)

* Rust colored urine

* Jaundice of the skin and whites of eyes  

Bootsie had NONE of this. Her tummy was swollen, but this was while she was in the hospital and I attributed it to the IV fluids. She did not vomit. Had only one bout of diarreah, and that was 2 weeks prior. She ate ravenously for me the night before her surgery, a full bowl of food. Her urine was not rust colored, it was normal. She maintained her ideal body weight of 14.5 pounds for over a year and was in perfect weight. She had not the slightest trace of jaundice. Not even a little. Her skin was pink and beautiful, the whites of her eyes were white, not a trace of  yellow.  

And yet the vet told me, as he stood in his scrubs, and I sank into a chair, that my Bootsie's liver was completely fibrotic. It was nothing but scar tissue. I cannot explain this. I don't think Dr. Woods realized how this made no sense at all to me. Still does not.  The only thing I can think is that God gave us a lesser illness in order for me to discover the worse fate that was waiting to grab and hurt my Bootsie, thereby allowing me to ensure that my Bootsie would not have to know that suffering.   He made it so that Bootsie never had to suffer the symptoms of cirrhosis. (I could've looked at Bootsie's liver myself. The vet asked me if I wanted to, and I declined. I had to believe him, because I could not have that image in my head. Bad enough the image of my baby under that green surgical blanket in that brightly lit OR.   I had to make a decision for my li'l girl. It took me many long, agonizing minutes, but ultimately, I looked up at Dr. Woods and through my sobbing, I said:   "I know that if there was anything at all that you could do to save my little girl, you'd do it. That's why I asked you to come here and be the one to perform this surgery. I NEVER want my Bootsie to suffer. I don't care about ME. But no suffering for her. If you think the best thing I can do for my Bootsie is to let her go, then that's what I have to do. I don't want to, but I will, if it's best for HER."   Dr. Woods silently took my hand and held it as he led me back into the OR.   I bent over the OR table, stroking Bootsie's fur and telling her that everything was going to be ok. I told her that I loved her. I said all those things that one needs desperately to say before the moment is forever extinguished. During this time, Dr. Woods was working underneath the surgical blanket. He administered the drug that insured my Bootsie's eternal peace.

At the moment my little girls soul was released from her earthly body, I KNEW. I pulled back slightly, searching her small face for any sign of life.....but she was no longer there.   I collapsed. Dr. Woods had to catch me, and was kind enough to hold me up.