"Beatrice Ann"
Sept. 3, 1993 - April
12, 1999
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Beatrice as an Angel on Halloween
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Beatrice
Ann was such a sweet, funny little dog. We already had three
Miniature Schnauzers when two of our dogs, bred and there
she was. First born in a litter of seven, she was supposed
to be sold like the others, but she decided that she wanted
to stay with us, and so she did. We were soon to discover
that she usually got her own way. Beatrice was a very bright
puppy, and she loved to make us laugh. At six months old
she had a seizure, so we took her to the vet, who told us
she probably had canine epilepsy. We had her spayed and
she started taking Phenobarbital and remained on it for
the rest of her short life. With the medication her seizures
were controlled and came about once every three weeks.
Sometime during a seizure, she hurt her back and our vet
put her on Rimadyl for the pain, it helped a lot and she
was on it for about 10 months before we stopped giving it
to her. Shortly after she turned five years old, she tore
a cruciate ligament in her back leg. It was very painful
and the doctor put her back on Rimadyl for the pain. A week
or so later, the Dr. put her under anesthesia to examine
the injury. She had a very bad reaction to the anesthetic,
and lost control of her hindquarters for a day or so. We
called the Dr. and he said it was probably the tranquilizer
they had used, and scheduled her surgery for the next week.
The irony is that she could have gone without the surgery.
The vet said that it would heal on it's own, but she would
never have full range of motion in it again, and she was
such a young dog that surgery would make her 'good as new'.
We took her in and gave her over to the Dr. and his staff,
and then about 5:PM we got the call: Beatrice was hemorrhaging
and they couldn't get the bleeding to stop. They could try
a transfusion but if that didn't work, we would lose her.
We gave our permission so they did the transfusion and she
was holding her own. Against our vet's advice, we went and
brought her home IV and all, because we did not want her
to die in that cold, lonely cage. Slowly, she began to improve.
We took her into the vet's office every day and she was
getting better and better, but the worst was yet to come.
By this time, our vet had determined that Beatrice's liver
was severely damaged, possibly caused by the medications
she had been taking, including Rimadyl. Pfizer Corporation
actually paid for the testing we had done and wanted us
to take her to an internal medicine specialist for further
evaluation. It was then that we found out that Beatrice
should have been taken off the medication three weeks before
her surgery. Rimadyl has an anti-coagulating effect, similar
to aspirin but worse. There was nothing they could do, nothing
could be done. Beatrice was going to die.
Beatrice was put on several medications and a special diet,
and she was with us for five more months, but she was deteriorating
a little bit every day. She would begin to pace, and she
couldn't be still. She would try to dig in the couch and
then frantically, she'd run in circles around the house,
go outside, come back in and start all over again. She did
that one day for over 13 hours. (we found out later that
this was due to hepatic encephalopathy). Her liver wasn't
removing the toxins in her body and they were poisoning
her brain function. Finally one day, she tried to jump off
the bed and fell off. By the time I got my lenses in so
I could see, she had fallen down the stairs to our dog door.
She was unconscious. We scooped her up and rushed her to
the vet's office. They told us there was nothing they could
do for her, and our only hope was to get her to Michigan
State Veterinary Hospital, and it was doubtful that even
they could help.
By time we got her home she had recovered somewhat, but
she was still bumping into things and she kept collapsing
when she would try to walk. As a very last result, I scooped
her up and headed for Lansing, to MSU, which was about an
hour away. She rode with her head on my knee, and licked
my hand every so often. When we got to the hospital, they
put us in a room and I put her on the floor so she could
see where she was. She came over to me and looked up and
wagged her little stump of a tail, as though to say 'It's
okay Mom, don't be so sad'. The vet and her assistant came
in and said they could try another transfusion, but there
would be no guarantees that it would work. So I left her
there, with her special blanket, and went home to wait for
news.
The next day the vet called and said that Beatrice was in
end-stage liver failure, and we could leave her there for
more tests, or they could euthanize her there, or we could
come and bring her home. So we went to get her. She was
so happy to see us. She whined and cried and would not let
me put her down anywhere. We rode home quietly. After we
got home, she wasn't moving well at all so we left her laying
in her favorite spot, in the sunlight by the door, while
we ate some take-out food. The next thing we knew, here
comes Beaser staggering into the room to get some french
fries. She couldn't hold it in her mouth very well but she
managed to get a few down before she collapsed again. After
that, she couldn't get up. I tried taking her outside, using
a towel as a sling for her, but all she did was walk around
in circles and it was so hard to see her like that. Of course,
all this happened on a Sunday, and our vet's office was
closed.
We got up Monday morning knowing the time had come to let
Beatrice go. We drove her to the Dr's office one last time,
and I sang a song to her on the way. Our vet came in and
took one look at her, and said that it was time. With tears
in his eyes, he administered the medication that would set
her free and in a moment, she was gone. We left her lying
there on the table, wrapped in her special blanket, so small
and still.
I don't know who to blame, but there has to be someone.
Was it our vet, who should have taken her pre-surgery reaction
more seriously? Or was it Pfizer, who in their greedy attempt
to make more and more money, neglected to inform veterinarians
and other consumers of the dangers and possible side effects
of the 'miracle' drug they were selling them? I do know
that if the information they provided had included a warning
about possible complications for animals with epilepsy and
other compromising conditions, our vet probably would not
have prescribed it for her.
This happened almost six years ago. Our vet has since retired
from full time practice and now only comes in to fill in
and for special surgeries. It was April 12, 1999 when we
lost our sweet girl. We entered a class action suit against
Pfizer, and we were awarded a settlement. It isn't nearly
what Beatrice Ann was worth to us, but it is enough to buy
another puppy. We will be picking her up sometime in mid-January
2005. She will be Beatrice's last gift to us, and perhaps
now we can achieve some kind of closure. But there's a place
in our hearts that belongs only to her, and to her memory.
She was such a sweet, funny little dog.
Thank
you so much for allowing me this opportunity, the story
still hurts to tell.
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