Empathy and Sympathy

I haven't written much about my new job, mainly because I'm more than a bit overwhelmed by it. And I don't mean that in a good way. There is so much that I don't know and every week I come up against a tidal wave of more stuff I don't know. 

I am a part-time assistant night nurse in a large emergency care vet clinic. The clinic is open 24/7/365. It has regular clients during weekdays, people who come in for nail trims and annual vaccinations for their pets. But it also has emergency patients that might show up at any time. I work one night a week (Saturday night to Sunday morning). I am most decidedly not in charge of a damned thing. I assist the certified vet tech who works all of the weekend nights and one of three vets who work night shifts (they rotate weekends amongst them). It's not the assistant part that frustrates me, it's my inability to be of much use in doing tasks independently. 

But I'm learning, and I'm a fast learner. I usually only have to be shown something once, like the location of a specific item or a specific protocol. Still, I'm at at the bottom of a very steep learning curve.

I have also been reluctant to write about emergency patients that come in to the clinic. There is confidentiality to be respected. And while an emergency patient might require surgery, which is complicated and exciting, that might not be a story that belongs here.

Tonight I assisted with a euthanasia. I almost wrote "my first" but it isn't, of course. I have been with several of my pets when they died. This time I was on the other side of the exam table.

A man stumbled in cradling his terrier-beagle mix in his arms. His dog had been hit by a car minutes before and was not in good shape. It was clear the dog was in a lot of pain. The dog was older, about 14 years, and the man said that he wanted us to euthanize the dog, that he knew that his friend couldn't be healed this time.

The vet tech and I took the man to an exam room, then took the dog to the back and put a catheter in his leg. She drew up the drugs, two of them, a sedative then the drug that would stop his heart, while I returned to the exam room and put some fleece blankets on the table. We returned with the dog and placed him on the blankets. As she injected the drugs, I collected all of the syringes and bits of plastic into my pocket, not for safety concerns but because it didn't seem right to leave them there. The man was sobbing and I am not ashamed to tell you that my eyes were filled with tears. Even the vet tech had to wipe her eyes. She verified that the dog's heart had stopped then we left the man alone with his dog. 

I kept watch outside the room. The man was bent over his dog crying. It was very sad. After seconds or maybe hours, he stood up and began pacing. I knocked, entered, and asked him if he was ready to leave, but made sure he knew he could stay longer. No, he said, he wanted to leave. 

I walked him to the door of the clinic. He was sobbing and I felt so sad for him. I touched his shoulder and I said, it's a blessing that we can do this for our animal companions. He turned and suddenly wrapped me in an enormous hug. I think he needed to verify that he was still here, still present.

This is not something I would ever have initiated because lots of people don't like to be touched by strangers. But I guess I was in the right place at the right time for him.

Afterwards, we were in the office working on the charts and the vet tech said, I wish I could have given that guy a hug. I said, he hugged me when I was walking him out. And I got nods and murmurs of approval from everyone. 

Empathy and sympathy. They are related emotions but we don't always feel them at the same time.

I knew that this sort of thing was going to be an inevitable part of working a night shift in an emergency clinic. I am sure this won't be the last euthanasia I assist with. And I hope that every one of them touches me as deeply.