Still resting quietly
Sep. 24th, 2009 09:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
etumukutenyakBT continues to amaze me. Last night, once again, I was sure the end was near; this morning she is still on her blankie in front of the dehumidifier, and even stepped over to the bowl that her sister was eating out of, just to see what was going on. She didn't eat anything, at least not while I was there.
I've been treating her with large doses of steroids, plus analgesic, so she remains comfortable and unstressed. The blankie helps her stay warm, and the dehumidifier blows warm air on her. She doesn't really want me to pet her, because it often turns into another injection. Last night, she almost whapped me after the injection, and then almost walked away from her blankie, but it was too comfortable to leave. I still give her a little scritch on the head before she pulls back from my hand.
I leave food nearby, and water. I can't do anything else while she's still aware enough to resist being handled. I've got the necessary drugs waiting nearby, if I do find her going downhill.
I keep reminding myself that she shows no signs of pain or distress, and is resting comfortably at home, with her sister, in their territory.
This must be what it's like for physicians, to watch their patients slowly decline, and not be able to do anything about it. Veterinarians are so spoiled by having the alternative available.
I've been treating her with large doses of steroids, plus analgesic, so she remains comfortable and unstressed. The blankie helps her stay warm, and the dehumidifier blows warm air on her. She doesn't really want me to pet her, because it often turns into another injection. Last night, she almost whapped me after the injection, and then almost walked away from her blankie, but it was too comfortable to leave. I still give her a little scritch on the head before she pulls back from my hand.
I leave food nearby, and water. I can't do anything else while she's still aware enough to resist being handled. I've got the necessary drugs waiting nearby, if I do find her going downhill.
I keep reminding myself that she shows no signs of pain or distress, and is resting comfortably at home, with her sister, in their territory.
This must be what it's like for physicians, to watch their patients slowly decline, and not be able to do anything about it. Veterinarians are so spoiled by having the alternative available.
