September 28, 2001

I had this job. I worked for a library system. There were something like 18 branches at the time. I would get my work schedule and be assigned to any which one whatever day of the week. I did have some I worked more regularly than others.

So, on 9/28,  I started off for work. Buddy Boy was asleep after a crazy work shift. I arrived at work but shortly thereafter was called to go to one of my favorite branches because they were short staffed. That particular branch was closest to home. Anyhoot, sometime during the day, I had that weird sense that my DH was near (strange but true). I look up and there he is walking toward me. It struck me that he looked so horribly pale and obviously something was wrong. We walked out into the glass corridor and he told me that he had just been called into the doc’s office (what, 25 min. north of our home?) and told they thought he had leukemia and that he was suppose to go to the hospital immediately. He came to tell/get me. I wondered how he knew where I was working- I guess my boss had called the house to move me but I had already left. I brought him with me into the break room, called my supervisor (she said, ‘go, go’) and went home to pack his stuff. They said we might be there for just the weekend, maybe longer.

 At that point we had NO idea what we were dealing with. So innocent, so naive. I wish we would have stayed there longer. I wish we would have talked about things. That was the last time he was ever home. The last time we would be home together.

I think about how he had all that time to drive to and from the doc’s office thinking. What did he think? I bet he was scared. I think it is rather crappy that they didn’t have him bring someone with him when he went in for the results. What were THEY thinking? We had to drive two cars home from the library. More time for him to think. I wonder if he was still trying to be positive or should I say oblivious or if that was the beginning of the pessimism?

I just realized that I am pondering how he was thinking and feeling. That has been something I said I would never be able to do because it is too painful… I just can’t handle thinking about what his thoughts must have been when his heart stopped beating. Ouchie. Leaving that for another day. Maybe the pressure in my chest will have subsided by then?

How can I help you?

I have done a lot of care taking in my day. You know, the kind of caring where you are always looking out for someone else. I do it a lot and it is sort of a bad habit.

Really, my husband died from sepsis and other neglectful treatment. The overview is that just before he officially died, they gave him something to paralyze his muscles so they could manage his respiration rate. I didn’t know that things were moving at such an urgent pace and didn’t get to talk to him before he couldn’t respond. The next thing I know, he is ‘coding’. I am waiting in the lobby and hear a voice on the floor intercom saying “CODE BLUE husband’s room number”. I ran down the hall but at that point I wasn’t allowed in. Toward the end, they let me come in to talk to him. I think, as a last ditch effort to make him come back. Oh, the sounds. The sight. They worked on him for 32 minutes. It didn’t bring him back.

Fast forward I don’t know how long and they want me to come and see him after he was de-tubed, de-lined and de-everythinged. So, I go in- my mom at my side. As I sat there trying to absorb it all, the door opens and my friend peeks her head in. The curtain was drawn so she can’t see my husband, and what do I do? I try and shield her. Telling her he doesn’t look good and she probably doesn’t want to see. I don’t even remember what happened next. I’ll take all the pain and misery. Just don’t let my loved ones be hurt.

Eventually I left. Left him, left the hosptial, left the wackyquack-poor-excuse-for-medical-staff, and went home. When I had left our home the last time with my husband we were newlyweds in our new home together. A place to make our dreams come true. To spend time together. Upon arriving there after his death,  home was no longer home. In a split second, our house had become an empty box. A box with an overwhelmingly large mortgage,  a container for questions, a sea I was sure to drown in, a place to store my tangible husband parts- all filled up with people- but the only one I wanted was forever gone to me.