About Beemer's Passing - From My E-Mail Archive
From: Joann Cencula [firstname.lastname@example.org]
Sent: Wednesday, March 27, 2002 1:00 PM
Subject: Today’s Miracle in My Life
Last week, when I told Bob that Beem had cancer, Bob said he “wanted a miracle” for Beem. And we... as we nearly always do in situations like this... talked together about what that would be. So conditioned we are to think of LIFE as “the” miracle, we often fail to consider that Death may be one also... we just don’t know enough to tell. (Moral issues are so “grey” to me sometimes.) We ended up leaving the “miracle issue” undecided.
Friday night into Saturday (AFTER Meadowlands Vet Center had closed), I thought Beemer would die... but he survived. And the next evening, he even made it under his own power to the Hairmobile when I said, “Go for a ride?” (We went round to East 260th; he even hung his head out the window three times… just like the old days.) In the days since Saturday, he’s needed to go out every few hours or so... to have water and food brought... medicine given… and I knew that my services... and my presence were a comfort to him. (The usual “doggie hospice” stuff.)
Yesterday evening, when Bob and I were talking, I commented that I was glad I was unemployed so I could “be there” for Da Beem in his last days. Having said it aloud, I knew what I HAD to do about some plans I made in April: I called Kim to say we weren’t going to FL to freeload off my Mom unless Beem was already gone. (Shows Kim where she rates, huh?) Kim understood... like I knew she would. After a long, tough, night, I called my Mom (around 5:30 AM) to let her know too. (Sorry Mom, BE lonely a bit longer. Beemer needs ME; no one else will do.)
Beem did go out for his doggy-duties, mostly under his own steam, around 4:30 AM this morning. Around 7:00 AM, I cancelled my breakfast with Dorothy to get some sleep. When I woke up, Beem wasn’t doing too swell; labored breathing and unable to drink or eat. I called Bob to let him know that I thought it was “time”. I checked with Meadowlands and found that Dr. Ali, unlike other Wednesdays, would only be there ‘til Noon. (She was babysitting her boyfriend’s son.) I knew that “any” vet would be able to euthanize him, but I wanted to take him there.
I called Bob to come from work to help with Beemer for what I knew would be his last ride. But I wondered if I were jumping the gun, as I would have been doing during last Friday’s crisis had my vet been available to me. With some difficulty, Bob and I placed Beem in his spot in the Hairmobile. All the way to Meadowlands, I second-guessed: Was this THE “right” time? Or would Beemer have been able to rally, like after last Friday? Was I, subconsciously, giving undue consideration to Dr. Ali’s schedule? (I just hate to be inconvenient.) Was I choosing this because I wanted to go to FL and couldn’t if Beem were still here? (I also hated making “The Decision” for Shelly and all the others that went before her. But my prayer that Beem die in his sleep didn’t get answered in the affirmative before it appeared to me that “The Decision”, once again, was falling to me.)
Dr. Ali and Stef stretchered him from the car and onto the floor in the examining room. (No one else was there.) Beem was limp and his breathing was terribly labored... like last Friday. Dr. Ali brought the syringe but couldn’t find a vein. (They’ve always been troublesome in that way; that’s why Beem hated his thyroid check-ups!) Stef shaved a spot on his back left leg; still no vein. His breathing was so very difficult; then, Stef noticed his bowels let go. I told Dr. Ali it looked like she wasn’t going to get a chance euthanize him after all. His chest rose and fell a few times more and his head lolled off to the side, but when Dr. Ali listened for his heartbeat, it was there... slow… and faint… and there. I pushed for the injection so he wouldn’t suffocate/suffer but with such low blood pressure, it wasn’t possible. (Even a tourniquet on his leg didn’t bring up a vein.) But when Dr. Ali listened for his heartbeat again, it was gone.
On the way home, I called Bob to tell him that Beemer didn’t live long enough to be euthanized. Through tears, he immediately said, “That’s the miracle.” And I realized that it WAS a miracle. Today, I got to know something that I’d not gotten to know... so incontrovertibly... with any other of my dogs for whom I made “The Decision”: that “The Decision” I’d made for Beem was the exact one Beem and God made. It doesn’t get much better than that. (But, just in case it does, I bought five dollars worth of WINNING lottery tickets on the way home.)
Thanks for all your prayers, words of sympathy and emotional support.
P.S. I know Beemer went straight to Doggy Heaven. Fifteen months without Shelly… twelve of ‘em with Mongo… wiped out any bad karma he might have had.
Posted by Joann, 05/26/2009