Accomplice

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.