Hi everyone,
I’m writing these few lines because I’m looking for a bit of comfort, to clear up the doubts that remain after the sudden loss of my dog, and to hear from those who have experienced "acute pancreatitis" with their own dogs.
My dog was nearly 17 years old and was in incredible shape for his age. Most people thought he wasn't even 10. He only had slight kidney issues and a bit of a chronic cough for the last 6 months. I would have done anything for him. We travelled across Europe together. I used to carry him in a backpack while I was on my bike.
One day, during the night between Monday and Tuesday, he started vomiting—a lot... He wouldn't take anything. After an hour, I went to the out-of-hours vet. I was worried about dehydration. The vet did a blood test, but no diagnosis was made; she thought it might be gastritis. She gave him an injection for the vomiting and told me he’d be fine for 24 hours, but if the vomiting started again, I should come back.
I went home and slept for 3 or 4 hours. In the early morning, my dog’s distress returned: vomiting and also diarrhoea... I took him to my regular vet as soon as they opened. They told me to leave him there so they could run tests and put him on a drip. I went back to the surgery around 5 pm. My dog had literally changed physically since the morning: he was wracked with pain, stiff, couldn't lie down at all, and was drooling a lot... My vet gave me the diagnosis: acute pancreatitis. She told me it was life-threatening due to his age (even though 4 out of 5 dogs usually recover from this). She started a 48-hour protocol with a drip and morphine. She told me my dog would have to be hospitalised. I quickly realised my dog would be spending the night all alone at the clinic, and it absolutely broke my heart.
I spent the most horrible night of my life; I had a deep intuition that we were about to part ways. I prayed for my dog to hold on, to wait for me so I could say goodbye and thank him for our wonderful journey together.
In the early morning, I called the surgery as soon as they opened, just to know if my dog was still alive. They told me he was, but they didn't want to give me any more information. They said they were going to do more tests and call me back. Around 10:30 am, the clinic called and told me to come in for 11:00 am.
I was shown into a consulting room and then my dog arrived: he was rigid, whimpering, could barely walk, drooling heavily, and his belly had doubled in size. My dog couldn't even wag his tail when he saw me. He just took three or four hurried steps to show he’d noticed I was there and his "joy" at seeing me again. At that moment, I saw in his eyes that he couldn't take any more. The vet, a very young locum because his colleague is away on Wednesdays, told me the treatment hadn't worked since the day before. He had just done an abdominal ultrasound and said his stomach was dilated to five times its original size, which explained the bloated belly!
I quickly realised he wanted to extend the hospitalisation without any new treatment strategy. At that point, following my heart, we discussed the situation, which to me was untenable. I asked about his chances of survival. He told me that at this stage, there was perhaps less than a 30% chance of survival, with potential lasting damage... I was the one who had to bring up the possibility of ending his suffering and euthanasia. The vet agreed with what I said and supported the choice. It was with a heavy heart that I said goodbye to my dog after a final breath of fresh air and some cuddles outside.
Four months after he passed, guilt and doubt still haunt me. Sometimes I even blame the vet (probably unfairly) for not suggesting that choice first, despite the clinical situation being so dramatic and obvious. I’m carrying the weight of this choice almost entirely on my own, and it’s horrible. I feel like I betrayed my dog. There are times when I think it would have been easier to accept if the vet had suggested it first. Perhaps the locum didn't want to interfere with his colleague’s 48-hour protocol? Maybe he wanted to try everything to avoid breaking the strong bond I had with my dog? We’ll never know. I miss my dog so much, and I couldn't bear the fact that he was suffering and might have passed away without me, alone in a cold cage at the vet's.
Has anyone else had a similar experience?
Thank you for reading and for your feedback.
