A Letter to Lizzie

I've been thinking about this patient I had recently. I'm a veterinary nurse at a 24/7 hospital, and I see a lot of really sick animals. But one patient was the first one to really touch me in a way I'll remember for the rest of my career. This one is for her.

Trigger warning: Pet suffering and pet death

A Letter to Lizzie

I didn't know you very well, but you touched my heart.
With your classic Yorkie coloring of tan and black,
and the way you would try to jump out of your cage when it was opened.
Your people were so nice, looking at me with such warmth as I brought them to the ICU to visit.
And I swore we would be watching over you all night.

But you were very sick, with a belly that was too round with something other than fat,
And you hurt so badly, you groaned whenever you were touched.
We had to carry you outside to use the bathroom because it pained you to walk,
Even though you were on a constant rate infusion of the best quality pain-killer.

I wasn't surprised when you would refuse to eat,
And I wasn't surprised when they had to place feeding tubes in you so you didn't starve.
But I was surprised when I learned part of your pancreas had died.

I wasn't supposed to be working that night,
But I had picked up an extra shift.
And I heard that Lizzie would probably be euthanized before it was over.
My stomach shrank, because there was only one Lizzie in the ICU that night: You.

I offered to take you to your people, and I carried you to the private room.
Your sweet owners looked at me with swollen, puffy eyes as I handed you to them.
I was even able to bring your pain medication pump so you wouldn't be in pain as they made their decision.

They looked at me with such sorrow now, begging for details of your tube feedings
and desperately trying to see if there was any improvement in your condition.
But there was none, and all I could do was tell them honestly about how you only tolerated 2 milliliters of your food,
when you should have been able to tolerate 30.

Hours passed, and your entire family came.
The whole room was filled with at least 8 people.
Finally, when a decision was made, it was me who told the doctor that you were ready.
I had no concept of how much time had passed before the doctor came out of the room,
and said the bell would ring when they were finished visiting with you one last time.

And when the bell sounded, I came as soon as I could.
In death, you looked so much smaller, but somehow more peaceful.
Your owners, however, huddled over you, the room echoing with sniffles.
They asked me to make them four clay paw prints instead of three,
And they asked if I could cut off some hair so they could remember what you looked like.
Solemnly, I agreed, feeling my throat close as I saw how loved you were.

Lastly, your dad gave me a blanket to wrap you in forever,
And as I took both it and you back into the treatment area,
I knew I would do my best for you.

I removed your tubes, cleaned you up,
and cut two locks of your fur for your mom.
I carefully set your clay paw paw prints,
and made sure I used my best handwriting to put your name below them in the clay.
And then I set up your casket.
Slowly, I remember wrapping you in your dad's blanket, and carefully laying you in your final resting place.

When I had finally finished, it was almost midnight.
I took you, your locks of fur, and your clay paw prints back to your owners, apologizing for the wait,
But explaining that I wanted you to be as perfect as you could be.
I showed them the clay paw prints, and the hair,
And your mom hugged me and thanked me.
Your dad was more quiet, tears falling from his face, but when he finally spoke, he said
"Thank you sweetie."
I remember swallowing hard, steadying my voice before I pat your casket where your head was and said,
"She was a good dog."

Then I stood with my head bowed as your owners picked you up
and carried you out of my hospital one last time.
Except you will never go home again.
Instead, you have crossed the rainbow bridge,
Where your pancreas doesn't hurt,
And you can eat all you want,
And you don't need fentanyl to make you feel better.
You will wait for your people with a wagging tail,
And in time the pain they feel will ease a little.

But you will never be forgotten.
They will remember you,
And I will remember you.
It was better this way.
Lizzie, the first patient to touch me.