For months, I suspected “JJ” of having a brain tumor or a terminal neurological disease. I decided early on not to seek sophisticated medical
treatments given his age, his frailty and the poor prognosis. We would forego heroic interventions in favor of comfort measures & liberal do-
ses of TLC. He experienced infrequent mini-seizures, never pain, and temporary confusion that
caused him to hide underneath my bed. Then he’d bounce back as if nothing ever happened. Suddenly,
the last weekend of February, the rigid, non-stop seizures began along with the inability to keep down food & fluids. Seized with panic, I rushed him down to the vet hoping for an IV, an anti-seizure med, maybe even some Valuim to help him rest. What was I thinking to leave him there over-
night at the suggestion of my vet, “let me try to
get him past this crisis.”? That last painful memory of my tiny boy struggling against those awful contortions and an already-emptied stomach
wretching uncontrollably, he was fast-becoming overwhelmed with exhaustion. He died alone later
that night. Most people aren’t expected to know
where “the line” is, but I do, having been 35yr veteran ICU nurse. Abandonment of a human patient in similar circumstances is a criminal felony. The
most crushing pain of all is remembering how frail he looked inside that cold, dark cage, the look on his face, that look of utter loneliness &
despair as he watched me walk away. I don’t know
how to forgive myself for such a lapse in common
sense, for failing to demand an immediate end and
failing to remain with my tiny boy. My only conso-
lation is my belief that The Father was there, ready to scoop him up and away from human failings
and miscalculations. Into that sphere of celestial
safekeeping, “JJ” awaits to greet me there.
Please forgive me, Tiny Boy,
| JJ |
| Mary G. Hill |