older than usual. She's slowed down considerably and yesterday we
noticed that she has a little trouble staying coordinated. You know,
like, she'll walk a bit funny as if her feet don't quite want to hold
up her weight anymore, or they're a bit sluggish like they don't want
to move. Yet she's been getting around despite this.
But, she is definitely not doing well today. I thought she was about
to die a short while ago because she was laying on her back but then
she flipped over on her side like she realized she wasn't laying
right. I petted her for a bit and her eyes cleared a little as if
she recognized the gesture, but then she went back to sleep. Her
breathing is laboured and it sounds like her lungs are filling with
fluid. She seems to be mostly out of it, though, so I've convinced
myself that she's not really suffering most of the time.
Consequently I'm trying not to disturb her so she can stay unaware.
I hope she goes soon. I know little animals get cold when they're
sick and she's got herself surrounded by bedding and it's cool in
here so I put my heating pad against the side of the cage figuring
maybe it would help her stay warm. She's not making little squeaky
nasal noises right now so maybe it's helping her breathing a little
bit, if for no other reason than that she's more comfortable and/or
less stressed by the temperature. (I remember when one of the mice
was old, he'd bury himself in the baby bunnies to stay warm.)
Death is such a strange thing. The process of dying [of old age] is
more like a transitional thing, really; typically I think of it as
"one moment, the critter was here. Now, it's not." But looking at
how Lancelot went, and how Peaches is going, it's not really that cut
and dry. It's more like the critter is scouting out a new home while
its body is shutting down, and it occasionally returns to see if it's
time to shut off the utilities at the old place yet. You know, tying
up loose ends as it were. The only thing is, it never leaves me an
address to go visit it in the flesh at. So I'm left here to talk
silently to its essence and wish it well in its new endeavour, tell
it I miss it, etc., as I bury the old body that is just that - a
body, nothing more anymore.
Logically, death equates to a complex system of cells that simply
cannot function anymore. Spiritually, those cells and the lifeforce
that keeps them going are quite separate even though combined for a
while, and even when they separate permanently, the lifeforce still
exists - somewhere. But from the perspective of attachment, my heart
sags and my eyes water and I have to blow my nose and I miss the
appearance of the lifeforce as it shows itself in its body.
So I sit here ruminating on all three levels - curious, unfeeling
observation and mental notes about the process; confusion over how
sometimes she looks like Peaches and other times she's just a body;
the pre-ordered tears that fall as I watch her breathing heavily...
I'm awaiting the inevitable, all the while knowing how many more
tears will fall once her time of death is etched in stone and can't
be changed. And then I sit here and wonder if I should feel guilty
about not trying to save her, greeted at the same time with the
futility of the concept. Do I want her to lay there incapable of
taking care of herself because she's so old that her legs fail her?
Is that worth staying alive for? She doesn't seem to mind sleeping
all the time. Why should I mind if she doesn't? Why should I feel
guilty for not wanting to push her past her old age? I guess it's
the fear of the unknown - I'll never know whether she'd suffer more,
or less, later. Maybe my instincts are wrong, and she's not that
old. Maybe she should live another year, and she's got some simple
illness that could be cleared up by antibiotics. But if I'm right,
and I disturb her to attempt salvation, then what? Then she suffers
more than she already is. She's brought back from her dreams to
reality so she's made aware again that something is happening to her
body. Possibly this something is painful in some way. Maybe
touching her is painful in and of itself. Maybe sleeping in the
comfort of her own bed, the last one she might ever make for herself,
is preferable to a fresh clean one that the wind will blow through.
Maybe the bumping around in a truck would piss her off. Being poked
and prodded by a doctor certainly would frighten her some. And then...
... the doctor might give me some sort of antibiotic, or give her a
shot, and give me false hope. I tried everything to save Gracie.
She took her medicine diligently, trusting that my trust in her
doctor was warranted. I gave her the dreaded mite baths for weeks.
And she seemed to get better. But she was still old. And putting
her through that for even one more month just so her and I could
spend a few extra weeks together... was it worth it? Now I just miss
her even more, and wonder if she wanted that or if she'd have
preferred to have died a bit sooner. Yet, I do have a sense that
maybe I did everything in my power this time. I don't feel guilty,
at any rate. But she's still up on that mountain, and not here with
me. The shock of losing her so quickly when she seemed so much
better... God, I can't put myself through that again.
The truth is, none of us truly knows. Especially when it's a little
animal who can't even speak for itself. I think the only reason I
tried so hard with Gracie was because she was truly my friend. She
was still aware, and she was suffering, and I could not sit idly by
and tell her to accept it because I certainly couldn't. Peaches, on
the other hand, doesn't seem to give a damn one way or the other.
No, it's best to let her succumb to sleep. There are worse ways to
go. Why take the chance on one of those when sleep is so available?
Anywho, I've not eaten breakfast yet, and despite a lack of desire to
eat right now, I know that if I don't my stomach will make me pay
later. Hunger is definitely preventable, and so is the
lightheadedness and the confusion from lack of sustenance. I've
gotta eat. Besides, I have to make sure I have enough fluid in my
body so I can cry some more.
~nv
No comments:
Post a Comment