Lindsey Nordby

Life gets tricky sometimes. It’s hard to have all the right answers. The decisions we have to make sometimes mean nothing, and sometimes mean life or death. What I am about to share about is the latter.

On July 1st, my little 30 pound dog was attacked by a dog more than double her size. This led to a month of heartache, surgeries (3 in total), tears, fear, etcetera, etcetera. Imagine your best friend, and then imagine the possibility of them not being there tomorrow. That’s how this all felt.

Tikka is an older pup, so three surgeries could be life-threatening.

In situations like these, surgeons are proactive about receiving clearances they would need in order to make decisions in the moment, if something went south, without having the owners immediate consent. One of these clearances is the CPR/DNR decision, in the case that your animal stops breathing during the procedure.

When Michael and I had to make that decision, we had been going through the surgical processes and recovery for 5 days already. We had gotten little to no sleep after multiple all-nighters either at a pet hospital or just worrying about Tikka. We were exhausted, scared, and upset. Though in this moment, we had two options.

1. If Tikka stops breathing, the surgical team will administer CPR and do everything in their power to try and bring breath back into her lungs.

2. If Tikka stops breathing, do not resuscitate.

As I looked at the options, my initial instinct was clear. It felt like the choice was obvious. Michael looked at me with the opposite opinion.

My tears began flowing almost immediately. Although, as Michael continued with his explanation of why he felt that the DNR option was best, it all made sense. Her age and trauma history coupled with all of the stress that her body had been through in those few days, even if the vet administered CPR, it would have been very likely that her little body just couldn’t have taken it. And, even if her body responded to the initial CPR procedure, it’s not guaranteed how long after that she would’ve been able to push on, and in all that time she would have been suffering and hurting.

It’s hard not to make decisions that are in the best interest of our own heart, but rather ones that hurt us and are in the best interest of the directly affected party.

We truly had to think about what was going to be the best decision for our little Tikka. When Michael initially told me he believed we should choose the DNR route, my response was, “You don’t want them to bring Tikka back?” I was gutted. He responded back with, “No, of course I do.” Although, our wants weren’t as important as making the smartest decision for Tikka.

It all came down to one little check box on a digital form that we had to sign moments after receiving it, in order for the hospital to proceed with Tikka’s surgery. We chose to go the DNR route.

It almost felt like sending a lamb to the slaughter. The horrid thought that if something happens, that’s it, they’re just going to stop working; that almost sent me into a full blown panic attack. It felt like I was walking her up to her own death. And I knew this wasn’t the case, that the surgeons were not going to just kill off my dog, but it wasn’t easy just letting them take the reins and trust that she would be okay. It’s situations like these where letting go of control is the hardest, when it was already a situation out of your control that got you into this mess.

The days just kept getting longer and longer, and emotions heavier and heavier as we went through this process. And all I could think about was how that one little decision could mean life or death, literally.