gothams3rdrobin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gothams3rdrobin) wrote2010-08-18 09:46 pm
gothams3rdrobin) wrote2010-08-18 09:46 pm
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It's been an absolutely horrible day.
Somehow managed to shut my brain off enough to get some sleep last night, but I really didn't want to get out of bed. 'Cause I knew that there was no chance of seeing Symba sitting outside my door waiting for me. He didn't do that every day, but when he didn't you could guarantee with about 95% predictability that he would still pop his head around the bathroom door a few moments later to demand attention and food.
The vet at the PDSA told me last night to give them a call around 10am for an update on him. This was going to be difficult as I start work at 10. Plus I really didn't want to get bad news at work and end up crying at my desk. Not that it made much difference; I barely avoided tearing up when my former opposite-neighbour Stephen asked after the cat as I was sitting down. I gave the smallest response I could, indicating with a gesture that I really didn't want to talk about it.
He tried again an hour or so later, when the rest of my team were on their scheduled coffee break, and I did quietly break down then as I explained the situation to him. Was extremely embarrassed, though, as there was a group of new employees shown around the floor at that point - hate to think what they must have thought, getting shown around the department for the first time only to see one of the staff crying at her desk! *sigh*
After we'd talked for a little, Steve went off and grabbed our manager out of a meeting to tell him what was going on with me. Richard then came over and told me if I needed to go home I could. He lost a family member to cancer just last week so, even though there is some difference, he did understand how I felt. I decided to stay for a bit, though, as I had arranged a rehearsal for the girls in my choir and I didn't want to let down the handful that were likely to turn up. Plus, singing provides endorphins that can get you through times like this, and I know that works for me.
Made it through the entire shift in the end, for which Richard was grateful. Stephen came with me when I went to the chill-out room to call the PDSA around eleven or so; the vet said that Symba had a good night, and had eaten some breakfast, so they were looking to do some tests this afternoon to get an idea of his overall condition. She sounded quite positive, so I allowed that and the rehearsal to boost my spirits till it was time to call them back again at 5. Finished work at my scheduled time for once - not that I'd got all my work done... - and went to Starbucks for a peppermint hot chocolate and a slice of lemon cheesecake, since I hadn't eaten more than an apple and banana all day.
Spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the shops before heading back home to call the PDSA again. They'd had a few emergencies during the day, so they hadn't completed the ward rounds when I called, so I had to phone them back after 6.15.
Once I'd collected Rowan from camp and done tea, I called them once more. The woman I spoke to explained to me that the tests had shown Symba's kidneys have completely ceased functioning, and he is in a very bad way. She even told me he's depressed, which absolutely broke my heart, to think my little rugrat is in a strange place without me, and completely miserable.
Anyway, the prognosis is that he's not going to recover and it's probably best that he go to sleep. They're keeping him overnight again tonight, and I'm to call them again tomorrow to discuss where we go from here.
I really, really wish he'd just gone to sleep Monday night and not woken up again. The idea of having to put him down is just killing me, even if it is the kindest thing to do.
Somehow managed to shut my brain off enough to get some sleep last night, but I really didn't want to get out of bed. 'Cause I knew that there was no chance of seeing Symba sitting outside my door waiting for me. He didn't do that every day, but when he didn't you could guarantee with about 95% predictability that he would still pop his head around the bathroom door a few moments later to demand attention and food.
The vet at the PDSA told me last night to give them a call around 10am for an update on him. This was going to be difficult as I start work at 10. Plus I really didn't want to get bad news at work and end up crying at my desk. Not that it made much difference; I barely avoided tearing up when my former opposite-neighbour Stephen asked after the cat as I was sitting down. I gave the smallest response I could, indicating with a gesture that I really didn't want to talk about it.
He tried again an hour or so later, when the rest of my team were on their scheduled coffee break, and I did quietly break down then as I explained the situation to him. Was extremely embarrassed, though, as there was a group of new employees shown around the floor at that point - hate to think what they must have thought, getting shown around the department for the first time only to see one of the staff crying at her desk! *sigh*
After we'd talked for a little, Steve went off and grabbed our manager out of a meeting to tell him what was going on with me. Richard then came over and told me if I needed to go home I could. He lost a family member to cancer just last week so, even though there is some difference, he did understand how I felt. I decided to stay for a bit, though, as I had arranged a rehearsal for the girls in my choir and I didn't want to let down the handful that were likely to turn up. Plus, singing provides endorphins that can get you through times like this, and I know that works for me.
Made it through the entire shift in the end, for which Richard was grateful. Stephen came with me when I went to the chill-out room to call the PDSA around eleven or so; the vet said that Symba had a good night, and had eaten some breakfast, so they were looking to do some tests this afternoon to get an idea of his overall condition. She sounded quite positive, so I allowed that and the rehearsal to boost my spirits till it was time to call them back again at 5. Finished work at my scheduled time for once - not that I'd got all my work done... - and went to Starbucks for a peppermint hot chocolate and a slice of lemon cheesecake, since I hadn't eaten more than an apple and banana all day.
Spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the shops before heading back home to call the PDSA again. They'd had a few emergencies during the day, so they hadn't completed the ward rounds when I called, so I had to phone them back after 6.15.
Once I'd collected Rowan from camp and done tea, I called them once more. The woman I spoke to explained to me that the tests had shown Symba's kidneys have completely ceased functioning, and he is in a very bad way. She even told me he's depressed, which absolutely broke my heart, to think my little rugrat is in a strange place without me, and completely miserable.
Anyway, the prognosis is that he's not going to recover and it's probably best that he go to sleep. They're keeping him overnight again tonight, and I'm to call them again tomorrow to discuss where we go from here.
I really, really wish he'd just gone to sleep Monday night and not woken up again. The idea of having to put him down is just killing me, even if it is the kindest thing to do.
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Both Theo and Tribble had kidney problems at the very end, especially Tribble. Theo's last day was bad enough, but Tribble's was so much worse because Phaed loved him the way you love Symba.
I know it's going to be rough. Heck, I've been contemplating this decision for Sneakers for the better part of a year now because I can tell she's getting to her final stage in life, and I still think I'm going to be a total basket case when it's finally time. It may not seem like much comfort now, but doing the kind thing, the merciful thing ... it really is an act of love. You'd do anything to make Symba's pain go away. It just sucks royally that the only "anything" option available to you is to tell him goodbye.
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