event of euthanizing someone’s beloved companion. This proved to be
by-far one of the most challenging events of my life. At this point, I was
about four or five weeks into the position, and I had grown to know one
of our clients, Eliza, and her very old, very sick, tomcat, Toby. Toby’s
kidneys had just recently failed, and Eliza knew that his time was coming
very soon (she had become much more adjusted to this realization than I
had). The emergency call came in, and the technician that I was working
with, Carrie, took the call. Carrie had a perpetually tired, rough face, and
a mess of blonde curls in teal, wrinkled and stained scrubs with a raspy
voice; despite her pleasant appearance, she was easily the least empathic
person I had ever met. She performed all of her tasks in a very robotic,
mechanical way; it was very possible that this woman had no emotions at
all.
“Toby is coming in to be put down, Sam, and I will need your
help to sedate him and take care of Eliza.” She stated, her ice blue eyes
remained blank, only reflecting my own nervous face. My nerves ran
rampant, and I began to wonder about this process; I had helped in parts
of a few euthanasias but never assisted with, nor performed, the whole
procedure. I was not entirely sure how to proceed, so I bombarded Carrie
with questions. She answered each one, patiently, and began to show me
the utensils and review the process.
Eliza arrived soon after with a small, d &