The scent of death, part two
Hudson is still with us. My husband looks at her, and mumbles something about that she's going to rise up and start going on about "brains! Brains!' I can only shake my head.
The scent, that I spoke of , is still there. My husband says it reminds him of an open wound- yet, I smell the tang of a metalic oder.
The days have been filled with tears, and memories as we make her comfortable and discuss options for her care.
Memories are a powerful thing. I look at pictures, and see them running across the floor , playing- very vocal when they are young. We still have her cage up, though she hasn't been in it for days, the little carrier that Id purchased to take them to the vet, (then realized it was way too small for 3 ferrets to not have issues of who gets into the box) had been sitting on a shelf collecting dust, now has become a bed for her with an endless supply of paper towels that have kept her comfortable.
When I first moved into the house, I had spiders. Wolf spiders, huge things that had lived off of anything that crawled. things that carried their babies on their backs and would be the size of small tarantulas and charge you should you stamp your feet. even if you slammed a thick dictionary on them they would spring back to life and try to attack you. (shades of LOTR)
I saw Huds streak across the floor, diving under the sofa, and then proudly she came to me, munching something...
its legs were dangling out of her mouth as she chewed up the spider.
The wolf spiders had met their match.
As of late, Huds had taken to sucking her teeth. Ferrets have bad teeth, and while attempts at cleaning them most often work, she had developed a way of sucking them. we would see her eat, then take a drink, and then the sound would begin.
The last few days have been very hard. When, it all began, - with the others, it was fairly quick, we knew they were failing, we would keep an eye on them, and with in hours, they would pass.
Huds, has been different. Last thursday she was able to eat kibble from my hand. She had siezure after seizure after seizure on friday night, through out the night, but, we felt the real damage to her little brain had been done before, when her seizures first started months ago. She had become near blind, but she still played, still begged to get out of her cage in the morning.
When she started to fall down the ramp, we placed everything on one level, so that she couldnt fall, couldn't knock herself silly, (she had no fear regarding jumping)
We believe that life and nature should take its course- giving comfort measures during her process. It has not been an easy choice for us, but in discussion with her vet, it was the choice that we had made from the start. We could have chosen surgery and a battery of tests, the end, would have been the same. except for her diabities, and the tumor in her pancreas, she was a healthy ferret. her fur never lost its luster, or thickness, she was always tiny,- and now has the weight of angels.
I spoke to my mother, who had commented about, "if it was up to her, she would have cloriformed her in the beginning"
Mind you, Mum used to wring the necks of the chickens for the dinner pot and then clean them, plucking feathers and removing the inside guts with a swift measure. She was raised in an era that it was what was done. But, inside, Mum said, she wouldn't have the heart to do it. Not that she has any love for what she called "the little rat" (followed by, Mum, ferrets arn't rodents)I caught her one time bending over their cage, making nonsenical sounds to them. when I spoke with her last night, and mentioned about the cloriform, she had said, that she knew I wasn't capable of doing that, that I was kind hearted, and I was doing the best that I could to see to Huds comforts.
and I think of how it was when my dad died, and when my best friends grandfather died.
My best friends grandfather was an extrodinary man who had survived being caught in a tornado, (lost an arm) and years later, suffered a stroke. In the dr's wisdom, the dr convinced his wife to have him taken off of life support, off of all nutritonal drips, and then left to die with just comfort measures. and it was hard on my girlfriend, the slow process of the body dieing. he hung on, and on, and on.
with my dad, and ive questioned this in support groups, as to why they do it, how could they do it- (and was tossed out of the said support group because *I* was upsetting the others) the nurse said "in this case because they cant push the button, we do it for them, and give them some, and then later, a little more, and then a little more..."
what she was saying in effect, what I realized later after research was, that the staff overdoses the patients that they determine are brain dead. My mom, made the decision to take my dad off of the ventilator, and she said it was up to us to decide...
It was an impossible choice, during the worst of times.
I am faced, now, with the same choice, I can only choose with my heart to give comfort to this little bit of fluff,
in her passing, there will be, an empty spot that only memories of her can fill.
I've assembled some of the pictures that i have of them. I know, that some believe that the essance of the being is captured with the photo, perhaps, its true. I am , blessed with a husband who understands my tears.
and I have been blessed, in knowing ones such as huds, and syd, and della, who have touched lives, if even briefly.
May time reunite all the souls who have been parted.
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