My baby girl passed away this morning. They couldn't keep her BP up, her red blood cells stayed too low. They had to go in and drain fluid from the surgical site (enough from one side to be notably bad). The seizures were lessened by Valium, but they couldn't be sure there was no underlying neurological problem. Even if they continued transfusing her, kept her on the BP meds, and started new therapies, there was no guarantee she'd had a full recovery.
We sat with her when she passed at 9:30 am, so quietly. So unlike her. But with her trademark scowl on her pretty face.
I stayed with her for nearly an hour after as we finished the paperwork and made "burial" decisions. Her ashes will be spread in an apple orchard in Maryland, and I love that idea. It sounds peaceful. Serene. A nice place to rest.
It was so hard to walk out that door. To kiss her ears for the last time. To pat her back and touch her paws. But I did.
It seems so unfair. So much money, so much effort, and my baby died anyway.