Confession #5: I just don't get it. How can you put a price on a life?
The night that Chico was in the emergency room, I was given an estimate, an estimate that would put me in such great financial distress, that I might lose my home.
There was a low end and a high end of the estimate and I was asked if I wished to continue. There was no question here, as I could pay the piper, or let Chico suffer. Without delay, I said "YES, whatever it costs, I'll figure it out".
The 'low' end was a whopping $1800.00 without tax and the clinic required a seventy-five percent deposit to admit him overnight. Luckily, I had a great night at work, but sadly, the cash in hand, in addition to the cash in bank, was not nearly enough to fulfill the deposit requirements. I asked the veterinarian if she would take the $640.00 that I had as a deposit, and that I would get her the money in the morning, which was now only hours away. She agreed, and I went home to bed.
The $640.00 was every penny I had. It was 1:30am and I was completely broke. I had no idea where I would get the rest of the money, nor could I even start asking around at that time of night. My parents had always said that they would help out, but this seemed like way too much to ask. I grew nervous and considered what I had at home that I could sell: my car, my camera, my photos. I would have sold every single thing I had just to make sure Chico was okay.
In the end, it was my parents who gave me the money, but had they not, I would have stopped at nothing to get Chico the care he so desperately needed.
So, this leaves me with the question, 'How can you put a price on a life?'
I still had to make that decision that no pet parent ever wants to make: that of whether or not it's time to end a dog's suffering, but at least I can say that the decision was made with Chico's best interest, and had nothing to do with finances.
The night that Chico was in the emergency room, I was given an estimate, an estimate that would put me in such great financial distress, that I might lose my home.
There was a low end and a high end of the estimate and I was asked if I wished to continue. There was no question here, as I could pay the piper, or let Chico suffer. Without delay, I said "YES, whatever it costs, I'll figure it out".
The 'low' end was a whopping $1800.00 without tax and the clinic required a seventy-five percent deposit to admit him overnight. Luckily, I had a great night at work, but sadly, the cash in hand, in addition to the cash in bank, was not nearly enough to fulfill the deposit requirements. I asked the veterinarian if she would take the $640.00 that I had as a deposit, and that I would get her the money in the morning, which was now only hours away. She agreed, and I went home to bed.
The $640.00 was every penny I had. It was 1:30am and I was completely broke. I had no idea where I would get the rest of the money, nor could I even start asking around at that time of night. My parents had always said that they would help out, but this seemed like way too much to ask. I grew nervous and considered what I had at home that I could sell: my car, my camera, my photos. I would have sold every single thing I had just to make sure Chico was okay.
In the end, it was my parents who gave me the money, but had they not, I would have stopped at nothing to get Chico the care he so desperately needed.
So, this leaves me with the question, 'How can you put a price on a life?'
I still had to make that decision that no pet parent ever wants to make: that of whether or not it's time to end a dog's suffering, but at least I can say that the decision was made with Chico's best interest, and had nothing to do with finances.