The A-Z of everything veterinary (and animals): E is for euthanasia

Siôn Rowlands

It is the letter I’ve been most dreading. E, and the inevitability of my word selection: euthanasia, it has stood out like an injured thumb from the minute my A-Z journey began. I felt I had little choice than to provide some veterinary context, to deliver some insight and share experiences on a word (euthanasia) that has a profound impact on those of us who have a responsibility to its carefully considered deployment.

Euthanasia, derived from the Greek, means a ‘good death’, with ‘eu’ meaning ‘well’ or ‘good’ and ‘thanatos’, ‘death’. I’m not a fan of the term a ‘good death’, whilst I wholly endorse the objective, to provide, in my work, animals with the opportunity to be spared pain, distress, and anxiety before losing consciousness, it’s just for me, a little too matter of fact.

The procedure, often termed ‘put to sleep’, is of course very common, and vets, vet nurses and staff members working in veterinary practices all around the UK will be considering euthanasia as an option for animals on an almost daily basis. Carrying out euthanasia can include the use of a number of methods, with the most common, and one many pet owners will be all too familiar with, the use of chemical agents. Liquid drugs that when administered will render animals first unconscious, then followed by suppression of their cardiac and respiratory systems.

Delicate

Everything associated with euthanasia needs delicate attention. Outside emergency circumstances, and where the situation dictates, conversations exploring euthanasia as a realistic option should and do commence early in the treatment planning. However similar to the patient you are dealing with; their species, breed, the condition they are suffering from, not one discussion on euthanasia is ever the same.

Owners, on the whole, will hold a profound guilt in discussing the topic, many will unfairly pillory themselves for entertaining the notion even if there are no options left to us with respect to treatment. It falls to veterinary staff to negotiate delicate discussions with compassion and non-judgmental understanding, always putting the health and well-being of the patient first but also being cognisant of the impact on an owner’s well-being. Where possible, it is always our ambition that the animal passes in the company of the people who loved them, and they too loved- unconditionally. More recently I’ve started offering euthanasia visits to pet owner’s homes, accepting there can be no substitute when aiming to de-stress patients.

Profound impact

I could easily recount so many of my experiences with pet euthanasia, so many that have had a profound impact on me for so many differing reasons. I can vividly remember being hugged within an inch of my life by an enormous Australian dog owner whilst working in Perth. The purported leader of a biker gang who, upon the loss of his trusted sidecar companion- an old Staffordshire Bull terrier, was overcome with grief. Upon his pet’s passing, he held me in a firm embrace for what seemed like five minutes. He thanked me profusely, but on departing he stared at me for a few seconds before issuing a non-negotiable instruction, ‘What happened here, the hugging and the crying, that stays here, are we clear?’ I was still a little lightheaded after the intense squeeze. ‘Of course, mum’s the word’ was the best I could muster, but to give some added heft, in the face of a less than confident agreement, I winked. The giant nodded and left.

Grief

I’ve witnessed people so overwhelmed with grief at the loss of their companion that they can barely function. Grief, having taken an early hold will often strangle speech, sometimes paralyse reason and always overcome the unprepared. There is a well-trodden saying, ‘grief is just love with no place to go’, which I see as so fitting to my experiences, suddenly owners are burdened with all this acute emotion that they simply cannot hide from.

And what about us, those of us left behind; the vets; vet nurses, and practice staff, many of which will have played important parts in the lives of such adored animals? Almost immediately we compartmentalise, we box, we pivot, and we move on to our next challenge. However, expecting veterinary staff not to invest in the lives of the patients we care for and thus not to become attached, to not grieve, is unreasonable and, in so many instances, impossible.

Many of us, me included, will have developed over time a release valve for our accumulated grief, others will have identified a means of distraction whereas some, possibly those earlier in their career, may struggle.

All those responsible for euthanasia in a veterinary setting will understand what is asked of them, they will appreciate the enormity of each occasion, and they will not take it lightly. As much as working with animals can sometimes be a burden it is also a privilege.

Letting the Cat Out of the Bag: The Secret Life of a Vet by Siôn Rowlands is published by Two Roads and is available from all good bookshops.