is struggling to eliminate the anesthetic and assist in the healing of his
surgery. His body is not strong enough to do both.”
It was as if someone had ripped the rose-colored glasses from my
face, and the harsh light of evil truths were blinding. I felt like a monster.
How could I have gotten myself involved with something like this? My
whole purpose was to save as many animals as possible, and now I had
become an accomplice to the same selfish greed and cruelty that I was
protecting against. Thoughts avalanched in my mind; I was overwhelmed.
All the while, Nero lay at the bottom of the kennel with an IV in his back
and heating pads swaddled around him.
I began to see everything as it was. Dr. Ellis was manipulating
clients into believing that this was a harmless surgery that she was
offering at a low cost from the goodness of her heart, for the sake of
the animal’s well-being, but that wasn’t it at all. She was ruthless and
cruel, guided only by money, and she was willing to use any tactic
possible to manipulate people into giving her just that. If something
happened because of the anesthetic, she could explain to the client it
was a complication that occurred during surgery, the reasons for which
would be unknown because the clients did not have a pre-operation
examination. I had never been more disgusted in my life. I was disgusted
at this “doctor,” these technicians, and myself. Each of us had taken an
oath to heal – not to destroy.
I couldn’t look at my hands, as they were the ones that assisted.
They grabbed the Ketamine out of the anesthetic drawer. They drew it
into a syringe, dosed to the right amount. They placed it on the surgical
tray with the rest of the instruments. Ten fingers and two palms, encased
in latex, restrained the animal while Dr. Ellis injected the poison -- I did
this. Now, I further abused an animal, which was clearly mistreated prior
to coming in; it was me who did this, and the guilt drowned me.
I spent the day watching over Nero; after an hour of fluids and
heaps of heating blankets, his temperature went up and his condition
stabilized, but still, I stayed. All the while, I tried to block out my
thoughts about what happened to him. I saved that for the car ride home,
but by that time, the guilt had consumed me. I decided before I even got
home that this would be my last day with the hospital. I was not going
to be part of this. And yet. The struggle to find a hospital that would take
eighteen-year-old girl with no formal training, no prior experience, and
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