I've been grieving a lot for Kitty this week (it was 4 weeks on Tuesday since her passing), part of which was/is guilt over my suspicion that by lowering/stopping the pred, I may have inadvertently brought about her death. And also guilt over how she suffered during her last days, and how helpless I felt to help her. In thinking about her last days, I remembered that there were homeopathic remedies to help ease the transition (though up until the last day, I'd hoped the pred that I'd put her back on would kick in and start her back on the road to recovery), and went to Dr. Pitcairn's book, "Dr. Pitcairn's Complete Guide to Natural Health for Dogs & Cats." Before I got to the part that mentioned the remedies, I found the following and wanted to share it. While I suspect most of us can relate to it, I think those of us who have cared for special needs pets can relate to it even more. The Italics are his:
The Issue of Guilt
I have been on the listening end for many, many people who have lost animals. Sometimes, with someone I know well, I have asked them more about their feelings. "What are you feeling the most about losing them?" or "How do you feel about how things went?" referring to their choice to use alternative forms of medicine instead of the usual conventional approach.
I am really surprised at the answers I get. The most common response I hear is that "I should have done more." Now of course this is always possible, that one could have done more, but I will hear this statement even from the most devoted people you can imagine. It can be someone that cared for a dog that could not walk or control their bowels, and for months they have been carrying them in and out, cleaning up after them all that time. These are people that have spared nothing in their nursing care. So I wondered, "How could they feel they had not done enough?"
I think this reveals something in the human-animal relationship that has not been understood -- at least I didn't understand it. For some people, caring for an animal is of immense importance; it represents something very basic about who they are. When that caring is not seen to succeed, the sense of personal responsibility is so great that it dominates everything else.
I don't know the answer to this pain, but my thoughts about the situation run like this: It is a noble human feeling to be responsible for another; it is appropriate and we need more of it in the world. Nonetheless, we must realize our limitations as humans. It is simply the way things are that, in spite of our best efforts, all beings will die, many from diseases that are unfortunate. So one thing to realize is that if you have tried your best, then that is all you can do. Yes, theoretically there may have been something missed or a path not taken, but it is always that way. Hindsight is wonderful -- just not available when we need it. So it may help to first reflect on that: You did your best at that time.
Let me ask you: What if you had not been there? What would have happened if you were not in the picture? I think questions like this can help to put things in perspective. That you were there has meaning. Sure, you can always think of things you could have done differently, but the fact is you were the one who was there. What you were able to do for your friend could not have been done by anyone else. It was a gift.
Since I read this, I keep coming back to "You did your best at that time" and "What you were able to do for your friend could not have been done by anyone else." It's going to take time, and a lot of repeating that to myself, to get through the grief and guilt of losing Kitty (and my past special needs pets), but it does help, and I hope by sharing this that it helps others.
