Sean DeMerchant made a post in the Layback Cafe late Friday night, September 29, 2006, which he titled "Unpleasant, Graphic, Sad."
The words do fit what he had to tell, and yet what he had to tell was very moving, and an important topic to talk about. Photographers, especially, and writers, too--people who try to record reality and their reactions to it--especially have to deal with their emotions as they try to express what death means, in all the many ways it can confront us.
Here I want to quote the part of Sean's post where he tells us what happened yesterday (Friday).
Sean DeMerchant said:
If--since at this moment I am thinking of death as the common end of us all, humans and other species alike--I may put a personal reminiscence here, I'd like to:
I have seen only one body immediately after death, and that was the body of my husband, who died at home, by his own plan not to go into the hospital, a decision he had made when he learned that his liver failure was terminal. He had slipped into a deep sleep from the morphine that was controlling his pain, but evidently he opened his eyes just before dying. I had dozed off myself, and the nurse who was with us waked me.
The pupils of his eyes were dilated, as you describe with the cat. But I did not mind. He was still in appearance the same as in life and still warm. After making a phone call to his doctor, I sat beside him, holding his hand until the undertaker arrived, about an hour later. I think the nurse closed his eyes. Together we had cleaned him up and dressed him in fresh pajamas. Not hard to do, because I had been giving him this kind of intimate care for almost three weeks, at that point. I was so glad to see him at last out of pain.
I think Asher, as an M.D., would know.
One veterinary site looked as if it would address the question, but it was closed--for members only.
I lost a beloved cat, Eat Now, to the consequences of a car's hitting him. He lived three weeks afterward, in the hospital. The vet came near to saving him--but he succumbed to blood poisoning. So much dirt had been ground into his broken jaw that antibiotics could not fight whatever strain of bacteria had entered his body.
It is still hard--and it's been about 36 years now. Tears are standing in my eyes, remembering.
My husband loved Eat Now very much, too.
Mary
The words do fit what he had to tell, and yet what he had to tell was very moving, and an important topic to talk about. Photographers, especially, and writers, too--people who try to record reality and their reactions to it--especially have to deal with their emotions as they try to express what death means, in all the many ways it can confront us.
Here I want to quote the part of Sean's post where he tells us what happened yesterday (Friday).
Sean DeMerchant said:
Almost like a premonition.
So traumatic.
Very hard, very hard, and for me, reading about it, very poignant.
What else could you do? I would have done the same.
Indeed. Very disturbing.
It's okay, Sean. That last small act of compassion might not have made a great deal of difference. Whether the eyes are seen open or shut, one must accept the death.
If--since at this moment I am thinking of death as the common end of us all, humans and other species alike--I may put a personal reminiscence here, I'd like to:
I have seen only one body immediately after death, and that was the body of my husband, who died at home, by his own plan not to go into the hospital, a decision he had made when he learned that his liver failure was terminal. He had slipped into a deep sleep from the morphine that was controlling his pain, but evidently he opened his eyes just before dying. I had dozed off myself, and the nurse who was with us waked me.
The pupils of his eyes were dilated, as you describe with the cat. But I did not mind. He was still in appearance the same as in life and still warm. After making a phone call to his doctor, I sat beside him, holding his hand until the undertaker arrived, about an hour later. I think the nurse closed his eyes. Together we had cleaned him up and dressed him in fresh pajamas. Not hard to do, because I had been giving him this kind of intimate care for almost three weeks, at that point. I was so glad to see him at last out of pain.
I didn't know the answer to this. So I did a search on Google to the string "pupils dilated at death" and from the website descriptions that returned, I would say yes.
I think Asher, as an M.D., would know.
One veterinary site looked as if it would address the question, but it was closed--for members only.
Your account is heart-rending, Sean.
I lost a beloved cat, Eat Now, to the consequences of a car's hitting him. He lived three weeks afterward, in the hospital. The vet came near to saving him--but he succumbed to blood poisoning. So much dirt had been ground into his broken jaw that antibiotics could not fight whatever strain of bacteria had entered his body.
It is still hard--and it's been about 36 years now. Tears are standing in my eyes, remembering.
My husband loved Eat Now very much, too.
Mary