I last spoke with my love, held his hand, and kissed his head at 2 a.m. this morning. I prayed over him. My grandmother's words came to me when she told me how her husband passed away. "How much longer?" Why would I think of that right now? Why would I be repeating those words while I hold my husband's hand? It's not his time! I shrugged it off and resumed praying for him. He was struggling and fighting. It was so hard to watch and EVEN THEN I didn't realize what was happening. I thought he was getting better. The nurse, Karen, told me they had called for dialysis. Why? I don't understand. He was getting better! Earlier in the day, his kidney (creatinine) levels were 1.96 after coming down from 2.54. (Normal levels, which is what he had before the heart attack, are 1 and under. His was at .8). When those higher numbers were coming down, I thought that meant he was getting better. When Karen told me they'd called for dialysis, I didn't get it. I didn't understand. If only I'd known. I would have held his hand longer. I would have told him I loved him even more. I would have asked him important questions. I would have prayed harder. I would have called his family earlier. If only I'd known. I wish I'd known.
He looked up at me with those big baby blues and asked me if they were working on the transfer. "Are they moving me? I need to get to the VA Hospital." I said, "Yes. They are." I told him that they were labeling tubes and wires, and they're getting him ready to go. I said to him, "Babe, you need to relax and rest so your body can heal for me. I need to you to heal and come home to me. The girls love you and need their daddy. I need you. I love you." Then I told him that I needed to get out of nurse Karen's way. She was buzzing all around and I kept having to move to get out of her way. I told him I would be in the waiting room and she would come get me if she needed me for anything. I told him again that I love him. He said, “Okay. I
love you too. See you later.” Then I left him! How STUPID can a person be? WHAT kind of wife am I? I LEFT HIM!!!! I NEVER SHOULD HAVE LEFT HIM!!! I was just so tired and thought it would be okay to go to the waiting room and get a little rest before going back to be with him.
When I got to the waiting room, it was around 2:10 a.m. Something deep within me came bubbling up and out sounding like a desperate wail, a howl almost, and I began crying hard and loud. I was alone. No one seems to hear me. I don't know why I was crying so hard. I thought I was just overtired. I'd been awake for over 30 hours and hadn't really eaten. Even crying, I settled down a little and laid down to try to nap, fully intending to get up again in a few minutes and go back in to see him. I don't know how long I dozed off an on, but as I did so, I heard an odd, soft
“whoosh” or "pah" sound, kind of like soft birds wings flapping. I sat up, looked at an AC vent, and thought, “That was strange.” A door opened and the nurse walked in.
She said to me, "He stopped breathing. We called an ER trauma doctor up. They're working on him now. You need to come with us." They took me to a smaller, private, family room where they told me to wait. They said the doctor would be in to talk to me in a minute. They walked out and left me alone again. I still had hope that he was going to be okay. I was still thinking that they're gonna come back and tell me he was breathing and the next 24 hours were touch and go. I'm still hanging on to that hope. I don't know how long they left me there. About 20 minutes I think. I had time to make 4 phone calls and tell his kids and family to get there ASAP. I was in a daze.
Then the doctor came in. She sat down next to me, took my hand in hers, and told me those horrible words. "I'm sorry. I did everything I could." What? What do you mean? How dare you say that! How can you sit there so calmly and tell me that! I feel like shouting at her, "No! You did not! You did NOT do everything you could! You LET him GO!" but I could not form the words. I could only put my hands to my face and fall to my knees on the floor. They put their arms around me and said they were sorry but what good is that? My husband has left me. He's gone. He no longer exists. He is not there anymore and is not coming home. What do I do now? How do I live without him? How do I survive? How do I breathe? How do I BE?
Then the most amazing thing happened. The doctor and the nurses .... left me. They LEFT ME in that room ALL ALONE ... to process the information they just gave me. ALL ALONE on my knees on that family room floor. I stretched out face down on the floor. I have no strength to stand up or sit in that chair. I feel sick. Where's the trash can? I'm going to throw up.
I don't know how much time went by but somehow, I finally got up and shuffled to the nurses desk to ask for someone to come sit with me. I told them I felt light headed and weak. I hadn't been eating all week and I told them that it may be low blood sugar. They asked if I needed to go downstairs to be evaluated. I just shook my head no. I slowly shuffled back to the family room. A nurse returned with some orange juice and a turkey sandwich. She left again.
I stared at it for a while and finally took one bite. The door opened and his oldest son Nathan came in. I made eye contact with him and started crying and shaking uncontrollably. He came to me, hugged me, and held my hand. How can I tell him? How do I say to another person that one they love is dead? A nurse came in and asked me "Do you want to tell him?" I couldn't speak past this boulder in my throat, so I shook my head no, and she began talking to him. I vaguely remember hearing her tell him something about a blood clot. Nathan held my hand the whole time she spoke. He was so calm. How can he be so calm right now? This nurse is telling him his father is dead. I'm glad he's calm. He's like a rock. I need a rock. My rock is gone.
Not long after, my Charlie's sister came in with her husband. Nathan had to tell her the news. I still can't speak. Then everyone else arrived and Nathan assumed the role of being the one in charge. I couldn't. I can't function. The nurses told us that they were going to clean Charlie up so we could see him and say our goodbyes. I wanted to see him right then but they wouldn't let me.
I waited a little longer for my girls to arrive. When I had called everyone earlier, I told Sam not to tell them anything. I would do it when they got there. I had to be the one to tell them. I didn't want anyone else to. Melody came in and already knew. She was crying before she walked in the room. I just hugged her. She's a smart girl. She figured it out on the drive over. Mariah still didn't know or couldn't or wouldn't process what was happening. I sat her down, took her hands in mine, looked into those eyes identical to her father's and, for the first time I was able to speak, told her, "Baby. Your Daddy is gone. He died." That's all I could say. She stared at me. No facial expression or emotion. Just stared at me. I could see the question in her eyes. The "Are you joking with me right now? Are you kidding me? Are you serious?" question. I said to her, "Baby, your Daddy has gone to heaven." And I blacked out.
I vaguely remember telling someone I need to go downstairs to the ER. I felt weak, shakey, my heart was pounding, I couldn't focus, and even just being in the wheelchair made me dizzy. The nurse wheeled me past his room to get to the hall to the ER. I couldn't look at his room. I turned my head away. They took me to a conference room instead of an exam room. That's weird. Why? I laid down on a couch with my feet up. Someone was holding my hand the entire time. I don't know who it was. Someone else gave me crackers and cranberry juice. Some time passed, I don't know how much, and I began to feel physically able to tackle this cruel life lesson I had just been handed. Though still weak kneed, I had a new strength. They pronounced him at 3:15a and I believe it was pushing 7a by the time I left the ER.
I went back up to the ICU waiting room where the rest of the family was waiting. Others had arrived and were waiting for me to return. We then took turns going in to see him and say good bye. I went in with my girls. They were both so upset and said it wasn't fair. They cried that they didn't get to see him and say goodbye. I told them they did. They had seen him and spoken to him the day before. He had told them that he would make beignets for them when he got home. Everyone left the room and I stayed last for a bit. Alone. Holding his hand, petting his arm, he was still warm. I began talking to him. Yelling at him for leaving us so soon. We had so much left to do! I hit him on his shoulder and told him, "You were not supposed to do this to me! We always said it would be me first!"
After a while, I got up and went out to the nurses station to sign the body release. Then I went back to him. Held his hand again, gave him a kiss on his big old head, and finally told him, "I'm leaving babe. I have to go take care of things now. I love you." and I turned to go. I turned back and just saw the top of his head around the curtain. I took a step to go to him one more time but decided not to and turned back to the door. As I opened the door to go out, his son Nathan was coming to get me and he escorted me back to the waiting area. I told everyone that there was nothing more to do here at the hospital. We had all said our good byes. He was gone. In no more pain.
We made plans to meet the next day. Nathan had already made the appointment with the funeral home. I'm glad he took care of that. I looked around at all of them. They were all looking at me. As if I needed to give them directions or something. I wanted the same thing from one of them. Someone to tell me what to do next. I took a deep breath and told them that I needed to go to church. What? Where did that come from? For some reason, I felt like that's where I needed to be. I needed to leave the hospital, go home and change my clothes, and I needed to go to church with my church family. I asked the girls if they wanted to go with me. They said no and I made arrangements for them to go with other family members until I could meet up with them again later that afternoon. They're so strong! They're going to be strong young women! I need them to be. I cried all through the church service and then went to my sister's house for the next few days.
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