This is not an easy story to read. Sensitive hearts, don't continue.
Today at work, a woman brought her 8-month-old female kitten in to be spayed. I was the technician admitting her, and gave the cat a brief physical before taking her in. When I felt her belly, I became suspicious that she might be pregnant, and brought her in the back to consult the doctor.
Sure enough, I was right. The doctor felt her belly, and we ultrasounded her, and saw the tiny skeletons.
When we told the kitten's owner, she became very upset. She couldn't take care of a litter, and didn't want to bring more cats into the world to potentially become homeless or lead hard lives. In a world where so many unwanted animals are euthanized every day, the doctor, the owner, and I all decided that it would be more humane to continue with the spay, and abort the kittens.
Despite the perfectly sound rationale, the woman was still distraught. She had tears in her eyes as she left the hospital, and she was really beating herself up for not getting her cat spayed sooner. She didn't say as much, but I could tell she also felt like a murderer for electing to abort the kittens.
I tried to comfort her in whatever way I could. I hope my words helped. But at the same time, my heart was quietly breaking beneath the calm facade.
I feel like an accessory to a crime. Even now, hours later, I find myself wishing I hadn't said anything when I felt the kittens in the queen's belly. I know it would make no difference; the surgeon would discover the pregnancy, and the outcome would be the same. And I know the reasoning was perfectly logical in making that decision. Even if we kept the kittens and found homes for them, that would have meant other cats in the world wouldn't have the opportunity of those homes.
But still, I like awake in bed, haunted by what I was a part of, and full of regret.
It's a horribly, horribly difficult job we have in medicine. I hope tomorrow brings better.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Overwhelming
A friend of mine from my fraternity, Mike Congiusta, passed away the other day. He was 20 years old. He had leukemia. And he impressed the hell out of me.
I never knew he was sick until it was announced at a fraternity meeting that he had relapsed and had to pull out of school. I liked Mike from the get-go; he was a sweet guy who made sure everyone felt included and had a smile on. He was a goofy little sombitch, but he worked hard and had a big heart. I always respected him, but when I found out about his cancer, that respect skyrocketed.
He never let the disease own him. He never submitted to it, and never played on anyone's sympathies. He had ambitions, and pursued them. He stayed positive, and made other people feel good. He was a great person.
I hope, with this post and the one prior, to pay my respects, in some small way, to two good men. I was close to neither, but both have my admiration... and both inspire me to strive to make the world a better place, just as they did, even in silly little ways. I hope I can bring some positivity to the world... in memory of Mike and Ger.
I never knew he was sick until it was announced at a fraternity meeting that he had relapsed and had to pull out of school. I liked Mike from the get-go; he was a sweet guy who made sure everyone felt included and had a smile on. He was a goofy little sombitch, but he worked hard and had a big heart. I always respected him, but when I found out about his cancer, that respect skyrocketed.
He never let the disease own him. He never submitted to it, and never played on anyone's sympathies. He had ambitions, and pursued them. He stayed positive, and made other people feel good. He was a great person.
I hope, with this post and the one prior, to pay my respects, in some small way, to two good men. I was close to neither, but both have my admiration... and both inspire me to strive to make the world a better place, just as they did, even in silly little ways. I hope I can bring some positivity to the world... in memory of Mike and Ger.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
En Memoriam
Gerald Driscoll and I weren't very close friends. We were more like friends of friends. But I always enjoyed when he was around; he was funny, and made everyone smile and feel good. He was someone who truly loved life, and I mean every bit of it. I don't think I ever saw a frown on his face, or felt an ounce of negativity come out of him. I admired and respected him for that, and his endearing personality, fun-loving with a great sense of humor, made me love him.
Today would have been his birthday. He would have been 28 years old today. I still can't believe he's gone, even though it's been years since he died. This is one instance where I can honestly say, with no hint of cliche, that the world has been robbed. It's like a hole was ripped in space when he passed, and even though he and I weren't close, I still feel that emptiness. He touched people; you could tell by the hundreds who attended his funeral.
I hope to honor him today by having a truly fantastic day. He enjoyed every moment with a smile and a laugh on his lips. That is what I strive for today. Please help me celebrate his memory by making today wonderful.
Miss you, Ger.
Today would have been his birthday. He would have been 28 years old today. I still can't believe he's gone, even though it's been years since he died. This is one instance where I can honestly say, with no hint of cliche, that the world has been robbed. It's like a hole was ripped in space when he passed, and even though he and I weren't close, I still feel that emptiness. He touched people; you could tell by the hundreds who attended his funeral.
I hope to honor him today by having a truly fantastic day. He enjoyed every moment with a smile and a laugh on his lips. That is what I strive for today. Please help me celebrate his memory by making today wonderful.
Miss you, Ger.
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