Chapter 7
Only a few weeks later, I lost my job. A good job. A very good job.
Naturally I was bothered, but it was just a job. I could get another. No
big deal.
Four days later, another saturday, was my brother's birthday. I hadn't
told anyone I was jobless yet, no reason to spoil the party. We were
going to go out and enjoy ourselves. Though I'm not even a major sports
fan, we went to a ball Off to a ball game and I'm not even a major sports
fan. Various other venues for celebrating, carousing and chatting
followed. We ended up for dinner at an Irish pub for dinner. I received
a call from her, but let it go to voice mail as I was out with family and
friends and having a good time. The evening and entertainment continued.
I enjoyed myself.
The next morning I listened to the voice mail.
"Hi, I'm not feeling so well. Give me a call".
I called her back. Her mother answered.
"She's in a coma now," she said. She sounded in shock.
I was absolutely stunned. I got in my car and drove over to their place,
about 5 minutes away. I really was barely conscious of what I was doing.
I pretty much drove on autopilot.
Her mom opened the door. The look on her face must have been a mirror
image of my own, and she realized it too. With barely a "hello" I was
let in.
She was hooked up to an oxygen machine in a hospital bed in her parents
living room. I had occasionally watched her sleep. I had seen her lying
in her hospital bed for days on end. This was not like either one. She
lay on the bed barely moving, barely breathing, barely alive. I sat by
the bed and held her hand. Still almost nothing was said.
After a few moments her mother looked at her father and said, "Come,
maybe he wants to be alone with her." They walked out without saying
anything else.
I sat by her side. I couldn't say much. I had screwed up. I hadn't picked
up her call. I didn't call back as soon as I could. Now I couldn't ever
talk to her again and I knew it. How could I ever make up for this? I
could tell her I loved her. I did, but I don't actually believe she heard
it. Many people who have loved ones in comas will say they know they're
being heard. I'm sure now that they're right, I felt the same certainity
that she couldn't hear.
That day I also knew something else. I knew that I could pull the plug at
the end of a life. I saw her lying there on the hospital bed in her
parents living room. I saw the pain her body was in, despite the copious
amount of morphine suppositories she was on. I saw the struggled, almost
impossible breathing. I saw her face. I knew she wasn't going to live
long. This wasn't my choice though.
I helped her parents take care of her all day. We sat at her bedside. We
talked, I honestly can't remember what about. They talked with her
daughter, who was off having fun at an amusment park. She didn't want to
come home. I know the girl had been very very well prepped for this
eventuality. She knew she had no reason to come home.
Continue reading in Chapter 8.
Naturally I was bothered, but it was just a job. I could get another. No
big deal.
Four days later, another saturday, was my brother's birthday. I hadn't
told anyone I was jobless yet, no reason to spoil the party. We were
going to go out and enjoy ourselves. Though I'm not even a major sports
fan, we went to a ball Off to a ball game and I'm not even a major sports
fan. Various other venues for celebrating, carousing and chatting
followed. We ended up for dinner at an Irish pub for dinner. I received
a call from her, but let it go to voice mail as I was out with family and
friends and having a good time. The evening and entertainment continued.
I enjoyed myself.
The next morning I listened to the voice mail.
"Hi, I'm not feeling so well. Give me a call".
I called her back. Her mother answered.
"She's in a coma now," she said. She sounded in shock.
I was absolutely stunned. I got in my car and drove over to their place,
about 5 minutes away. I really was barely conscious of what I was doing.
I pretty much drove on autopilot.
Her mom opened the door. The look on her face must have been a mirror
image of my own, and she realized it too. With barely a "hello" I was
let in.
She was hooked up to an oxygen machine in a hospital bed in her parents
living room. I had occasionally watched her sleep. I had seen her lying
in her hospital bed for days on end. This was not like either one. She
lay on the bed barely moving, barely breathing, barely alive. I sat by
the bed and held her hand. Still almost nothing was said.
After a few moments her mother looked at her father and said, "Come,
maybe he wants to be alone with her." They walked out without saying
anything else.
I sat by her side. I couldn't say much. I had screwed up. I hadn't picked
up her call. I didn't call back as soon as I could. Now I couldn't ever
talk to her again and I knew it. How could I ever make up for this? I
could tell her I loved her. I did, but I don't actually believe she heard
it. Many people who have loved ones in comas will say they know they're
being heard. I'm sure now that they're right, I felt the same certainity
that she couldn't hear.
That day I also knew something else. I knew that I could pull the plug at
the end of a life. I saw her lying there on the hospital bed in her
parents living room. I saw the pain her body was in, despite the copious
amount of morphine suppositories she was on. I saw the struggled, almost
impossible breathing. I saw her face. I knew she wasn't going to live
long. This wasn't my choice though.
I helped her parents take care of her all day. We sat at her bedside. We
talked, I honestly can't remember what about. They talked with her
daughter, who was off having fun at an amusment park. She didn't want to
come home. I know the girl had been very very well prepped for this
eventuality. She knew she had no reason to come home.
Continue reading in Chapter 8.
posted by Sad Survivor at 7:43 AM
5 Comments:
Reading and weeping. Thinking of you.
SS - Have you seen a counselor/therapist? It really is time to let this go...but such a complicated set of circumstances is going to be difficult to let go of without professional help....I feel for you. I really do. But you really need to start moving on....
I've never like the phrases "let it go" or "get over it". They present too much of the idea of "forget it", which is never going to happen. She is over 7 and half years of my life, something I can't ever "let go of". She had a daughter to whom I was almost a father and whose life I am still a regular part of, something I can't "get over". Have you read my "whys of this" post? http://sadsurvivor.blogspot.com/2006/05/whys-of-this.html
Moving on, that I can do. And that I have done. In as much as is possible. I have gone out and have dated. I do keep busy doing a multitude of things. I'm not sitting and dwelling on this, really I'm not. I'm sharing the story because it was such a complicated set of circumstances (and actually far far more complicated than I can convey here without permission from others). This past year though have made it fairly obvious to me that this is a story that needs sharing.
I understand that weeping for me is a natural reaction, I still do it myself every now and then. Only on the worst days, birthday sometimes, deathday. But, that's not the reaction I want. That part should be evident in the next few chapter posts.
Let go, as I say it, means to let go of the pain...not to let go of the memories.Things happen to us, feelings wash over us. But it is our choice to suffer or not to suffer.
I am almost enraged to see someone one telling you to let it go and move on. It NEVER happens. As time goes on, you might learn to live with it, but you NEVER get over it. She is a part of the fabric of your life and her loving you and you loving her has made you the man that you are today. Don't ever stop loving her!
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