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There was a lot of blood
Oct. 31st, 2009 01:35 pmWhen I asked the Powers-That-Be to move onto someone else for their medical emergencies, I really meant someone a little farther away from me. Trust the Powers to bollocks things up again.
Last night I had an HBC (hit by car) chocolate lab, Murphy. Murphy was a mess to look at -- broken leg and open wound head trauma. The story is his owner wanted to put him to sleep on the spot (leg would probably have to be amputated if he survived), but the helpful day shift talked him into giving Murphy 24 hours to see which direction he went. I was assured he would probably just lie there all night, not much could be done for him apart from morphine injections.
For the most part that was all he did. He would occasionally lift his head if I made any noise, and after his first shot actually seemed to perk up and change position some. The day tech had called me for some other reason and commented how they were all amazed at how well he seemed to be doing. Except every time he shifted he would create pools of blood from his head wounds. The air throughout the hospital had a metallic taste to it, there was so much blood. "Boy, am I glad I won't have to clean up all that blood," I selfishly thought.
Then poor Murphy died. I was sitting on my dog mattress reading, when he suddenly stood halfway up, lurched wildly to the right, lurched wildly back to the left, and then collapsed (I suppose this is what is meant by the phrase "he just up and died"). I went over to check on him. It had happened so suddenly, with absolutely no prior signs of distress, that I couldn't believe he was dead. (Even if there were, he was a DNR (do not resuscitate). The owner really preferred to let nature take its course.) I checked his chest repeatedly for a heartbeat -- with big dogs it's a little tricky because their chest cavity is so large there's a lot of echoing emptiness even in healthy dogs, if you're not listening at just the right spot. I went down to the boarding dogs and experimented on Snuggles the Malamute, the only other big dog in the place, to reassure myself I truly heard nothing in Murphy.
The bright side is his timing couldn't have been better. I was literally just about to change his fluid bag (the second bag would have had to be scrapped after opening it if he didn't finish it).
I called the doc, who asked if I could try to bag him, and if I could bring him out back to the freezer that would be even better. I've only dealt with a couple of dead animals, but none as bloody as Murphy. When I moved his head there was an audible squelching sound I really would have been much happier without. I had been shaking Murphy and slapping him to make super extra sure he was dead, but if a dog doesn't respond while being shoved headfirst in a bag that's usually a good indicator as well. His breathing had been pretty labored before, his whole body shuddering with every breath. He was completely motionless now. Still, the whole laborious trip out to the freezer I kept imagining I saw movement inside the bag. That hospital sure can play head games with you at night.
So much blood. I had to take apart the window on the Plexiglas cage door because there was blood inside it (and, unlike real glass, doesn't come off nearly as easily).
I guess there isn't much point to this entry except to say, there was a lot of blood.
~*~
No cool lomo effects here, just our neighbor's crappy camera phone pic of our balcony buried in there somewhere.
2 feet of snow in October
Coming soon: Halloween 2009
Last night I had an HBC (hit by car) chocolate lab, Murphy. Murphy was a mess to look at -- broken leg and open wound head trauma. The story is his owner wanted to put him to sleep on the spot (leg would probably have to be amputated if he survived), but the helpful day shift talked him into giving Murphy 24 hours to see which direction he went. I was assured he would probably just lie there all night, not much could be done for him apart from morphine injections.
For the most part that was all he did. He would occasionally lift his head if I made any noise, and after his first shot actually seemed to perk up and change position some. The day tech had called me for some other reason and commented how they were all amazed at how well he seemed to be doing. Except every time he shifted he would create pools of blood from his head wounds. The air throughout the hospital had a metallic taste to it, there was so much blood. "Boy, am I glad I won't have to clean up all that blood," I selfishly thought.
Then poor Murphy died. I was sitting on my dog mattress reading, when he suddenly stood halfway up, lurched wildly to the right, lurched wildly back to the left, and then collapsed (I suppose this is what is meant by the phrase "he just up and died"). I went over to check on him. It had happened so suddenly, with absolutely no prior signs of distress, that I couldn't believe he was dead. (Even if there were, he was a DNR (do not resuscitate). The owner really preferred to let nature take its course.) I checked his chest repeatedly for a heartbeat -- with big dogs it's a little tricky because their chest cavity is so large there's a lot of echoing emptiness even in healthy dogs, if you're not listening at just the right spot. I went down to the boarding dogs and experimented on Snuggles the Malamute, the only other big dog in the place, to reassure myself I truly heard nothing in Murphy.
The bright side is his timing couldn't have been better. I was literally just about to change his fluid bag (the second bag would have had to be scrapped after opening it if he didn't finish it).
I called the doc, who asked if I could try to bag him, and if I could bring him out back to the freezer that would be even better. I've only dealt with a couple of dead animals, but none as bloody as Murphy. When I moved his head there was an audible squelching sound I really would have been much happier without. I had been shaking Murphy and slapping him to make super extra sure he was dead, but if a dog doesn't respond while being shoved headfirst in a bag that's usually a good indicator as well. His breathing had been pretty labored before, his whole body shuddering with every breath. He was completely motionless now. Still, the whole laborious trip out to the freezer I kept imagining I saw movement inside the bag. That hospital sure can play head games with you at night.
So much blood. I had to take apart the window on the Plexiglas cage door because there was blood inside it (and, unlike real glass, doesn't come off nearly as easily).
I guess there isn't much point to this entry except to say, there was a lot of blood.
~*~
No cool lomo effects here, just our neighbor's crappy camera phone pic of our balcony buried in there somewhere.
2 feet of snow in October
Coming soon: Halloween 2009
