by: Michelle Smith
Soul Mate
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To begin with, this story did not turn out like it was supposed to. Not as planned, not as it should have, not as I could ever have imagined. For almost a month I had a very sick little girl, a 7 year old black capped capuchin whom I had owned since she was a baby. From the beginning I planned to write an article when we sorted everything out. I was going to title it “Saving Annie”. It did not turn out that way. I couldn’t save her. She gave us over a month, and we couldn’t save her. Annie was a perfect monkey. Not that it makes it any harder or easier, but she was perfect in every way. She was extremely smart, performing multiple tricks for kids schools and educational events, following orders at home such as retrieving things when asked, handing me things, giving me her tail when asked, unlocking combination locks, etc, etc. She was also very pretty, a dainty little girl, and the sweetest ever. She never bit a day in her life, not even a little nip or warning bite. Even at the end when I had to hold her down and force medicines and shots that she detested (up to 10 times a day); as scared as she was and as much as she wanted to, she never bit.
Annie died in Sept, 2004 of lymphosarcoma, a type of cancer similar to leukemia. At first she stopped eating. I rushed to the vet and he did lots of lab work. My vet assured me everything was normal, and I relaxed a little thinking maybe this was just a mild stomach virus like a child would get. I hoped she would be better in a day or two. But she wasn’t and she still wouldn’t eat at all. I went to the vet to pick up a copy of her previous lab work and panicked at her high (toxic) calcium level. I am a nurse practitioner, but I wasn’t familiar with anything that would cause this as I don’t work with oncology patients at all. The vet and my husband, a MD thought it was most likely a lab error. But I wanted it repeated which meant I had to anesthetize her again to draw blood. Anesthesia in anything scares me, but in a monkey it panics me, but I had to do it. The level came back high again (15.4). In retrospect this was from the calcium leaking out of her cancerous bones. Worse than the high calcium level though was her red blood cell count had really dropped. It had been 52 less than a week before, and on this recheck it had dropped to 20! This equals a hemoglobin level of about 6.5 if you are used to looking at this value instead. I was pretty much hysterical, telling my vet she couldn’t live with a hematocrit (the red blood cell that carries oxygen) count of 20. He said yes, he was really worried. We arranged with a friend to bring her black cap monkey in to give a blood transfusion to Annie. I did a recheck prior to the transfusion (the next day) just to be sure and it had further dropped to 12 which is almost incompatible with life. By the end it dropped to 6. (Some confuse the Hgb and the Hct, 6 Hgb as in some anemic primates is equivalent to 18 which is bad enough, but Annie’s Hct was actually 6! That would be a Hgb of 2!). For the month Annie was sick I never considered it to be cancer. Maybe I just was in denial and knew I couldn’t handle cancer so I thought of everything else.
So many monkey people have said that they lost a family member and also a monkey. They have said they have it was harder to lose their monkey, but they couldn’t tell that to anyone. A few had also had children die and they said losing their monkey was no harder and no easier. I think part of what makes the grief even harder is that it is closet grief. You cannot even discuss it with most; there is just no way they could possibly understand. I found that I blocked so much out of my mind. I just want her back. I always say there is a reason for everything even if we don’t know it yet – I always really believed that until now. There is no reason she had to die. No reason. She was so happy and perfect. Then I look at all some people have gone through and survived. Friends and family who struggled and lost the battle to cancer. Children you read about who have endured horrendous abuse and somehow have the will to fight to live and overcome. A friend whose legs were severed off between a bridge and the car of a drunk driver. Told she would never walk, but does with prostheses. A man who lost both legs in a bungee jumping accident, yet crawled to take care of animals at a park where he volunteered. People alone and in pain. I guess there are so many things in life that we can’t possibly understand. I guess we somehow have to accept them and be strong and move on with our lives. It is not always easy, but if others can overcome tremendous barriers, I can do this. Maybe.
The tape she made has 4 songs for Annie. “I miss my friend”, “In the Arms of an Angel” (hope you find some comfort there) by Sara McLaughlin, “Annie’s Song” by John Denver and “Bring On the Rain” which helps both of us think of healing and that we can survive this. I play the tape often and can never get through it (esp. friend) without crying. My husband can’t for the life of him figure out why I would play it. Actually I can’t really explain it either but I want to hear them. I play them more now as time goes by. At first I wouldn’t have been able to keep driving down the road. The other quote that is so dear to me I received on a card after she died. I still cry still every time I see it. It is our special quote. “If tears could build a stairway and memories build a bridge, I’d climb right up to heaven and bring you back again”. That is really all I wanted to do, and the only saying I could relate to. I can tell you I have never experienced a pain so deep.
I lost a monkey, my first- Annie, my beloved, my best friend, my companion, my soul mate. I will never get over it. I have tears now. It was 6 yrs in September and I still have so much grief. A big part of me died with her. It took a year before I could get out of bed without forcing myself. That hole will never be filled. When people see my 3 girls now, they often say who is your favorite (meaning of these 3). I always say Annie. Recently I got a very special new primate love in my life. She will never replace or make me forget Annie, but with her I am beginning to see some light coming back in. Just a flicker, but light just the same! “Oh let the light back in…I miss my friend”.
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Annie |
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Dedication |
I dedicate this to anyone out there who has ever lost a primate, or any special love for that matter. It is meant to show you that there is no getting over it, just getting past it. There is no normal when you feel you are going crazy. And that even though you may feel no one else, no family, no friend can ever understand all that you are feeling…I understand. We that have been there understand. Don’t expect your family or the general population to, as they are not capable. They have not known or been fortunate as have we to have spent some time on Earth with: “A Creature so magnificent, they defy description”. I have such an overwhelming love and passion for primates that words cannot describe it. I am not sure why. Maybe it is so strong and powerful because Annie died. But maybe, just maybe,… it is because Annie Lived. I miss my friend.
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