02-11-2024, 04:14 PM
This post was last modified 02-11-2024, 11:14 PM by Maxmars.
Edit Reason: spelling
He almost stumbled into the little alcove of the emergency room, trying not to 'shine' his deep concern to his wife. She had been very unwell for months, and had announced to him two weeks ago, holding his hand, saying "You know that I'm dying right?" He seemed to have slapped this back into the place in his memories reserved for things said upon which not to dwell. He had argued, feebly, that she should not take for granted thing doctors can't account for. Reiterating his love for her.
That memory refused to be denied and she said to him as he approached, "Oh, I'm ready to go. I just can't do this anymore. I'm too tired." He felt a shattering within him. "I'm so sorry you're feeling so badly," he responded, "but I really need you. I love you." He instantly regretted the adding of a burden to this marvel of a woman; he didn't intend to place in a position to infer that he meant she had to 'suffer through it.'
"I haven't slept all night, I'm just so tired," She apologized, unwittingly contributing to his guilt and recrimination about the last utterance. He held her hand and told her that her oldest daughter and youngest son were waiting to see her, but the ER policies discouraged multiple people in the room. He intended to let her see them, perhaps because of a foreshadowing of what was to come, but he would have denied that possibility vehemently at the time. He actually thought that seeing her children would 'normalize' the moment, in hopes that it would diminish any anxiety that she might be experiencing. But she didn't seem frightened at all. He had seen her frightened... this was not it.
He ran his hands through her tussled hair. She had been thrashing about, and he did what he could to straighten it for her. He though how desperately he loved her, aching to have her healed, her life restored... though the doctors thoroughly quashed that notion in her. He held her face, then kissed her cheek.
"I'll go get one of the kids," he announced, and glanced back at her as he walked out of the little room, "I'll be back after." Those were the last words he ever got to say to her.
Her son went into see her, and her daughter thereafter. He waited impatiently, pacing around a tiny 'waiting room' separated from the common waiting area. When the word came, it was from the daughter, "Mom is having trouble breathing," she said, "they were moving in the crash cart, so I thought you should come."
It couldn't have been more than a minute by the time he reached her room. He was suddenly enveloped in a scene from a nightmare. His wife was lying on her emergency room bed which had been flattened to facilitate CPR. Her eyes were open but evidently unseeing... and her body was flailing impotently against the violence of the CPR thrusts. Again and again, they continued the effort... It was not anything at all like the endless theatrical productions... this was terribly ugly, it hurt his heart to see it.
He heard nearly every word spoken between the medical staff. They noted the tenuous monitor reports of her implanted pacemaker-defibrillator, vainly trying to get her heart to pump, they chattered about intubation... and then amidst all that chaos, someone reported that they were unable to detect any brain activity...
He turned to his daughter, looking at her panicked expression, and noticed the face of his son, standing just behind them... and witnessed the expression on his face... devastation.
He calmly and firmly announced to her, "Let her go."
She echoed him without hesitation... "Let her go."
"Really?" one of the staff asked loudly. "Yes, let her go," she repeated.
The staff expertly ushered us from the room. A fact which he appreciated, knowing that the final twitches and gasps of life can be emotionally damaging to almost anyone untrained or unexperienced, let alone loved ones.
He walked away in a desperate internal struggle to deny that he was feeling the child within him letting out a long moan of grief-stricken sorrow.
That memory refused to be denied and she said to him as he approached, "Oh, I'm ready to go. I just can't do this anymore. I'm too tired." He felt a shattering within him. "I'm so sorry you're feeling so badly," he responded, "but I really need you. I love you." He instantly regretted the adding of a burden to this marvel of a woman; he didn't intend to place in a position to infer that he meant she had to 'suffer through it.'
"I haven't slept all night, I'm just so tired," She apologized, unwittingly contributing to his guilt and recrimination about the last utterance. He held her hand and told her that her oldest daughter and youngest son were waiting to see her, but the ER policies discouraged multiple people in the room. He intended to let her see them, perhaps because of a foreshadowing of what was to come, but he would have denied that possibility vehemently at the time. He actually thought that seeing her children would 'normalize' the moment, in hopes that it would diminish any anxiety that she might be experiencing. But she didn't seem frightened at all. He had seen her frightened... this was not it.
He ran his hands through her tussled hair. She had been thrashing about, and he did what he could to straighten it for her. He though how desperately he loved her, aching to have her healed, her life restored... though the doctors thoroughly quashed that notion in her. He held her face, then kissed her cheek.
"I'll go get one of the kids," he announced, and glanced back at her as he walked out of the little room, "I'll be back after." Those were the last words he ever got to say to her.
Her son went into see her, and her daughter thereafter. He waited impatiently, pacing around a tiny 'waiting room' separated from the common waiting area. When the word came, it was from the daughter, "Mom is having trouble breathing," she said, "they were moving in the crash cart, so I thought you should come."
It couldn't have been more than a minute by the time he reached her room. He was suddenly enveloped in a scene from a nightmare. His wife was lying on her emergency room bed which had been flattened to facilitate CPR. Her eyes were open but evidently unseeing... and her body was flailing impotently against the violence of the CPR thrusts. Again and again, they continued the effort... It was not anything at all like the endless theatrical productions... this was terribly ugly, it hurt his heart to see it.
He heard nearly every word spoken between the medical staff. They noted the tenuous monitor reports of her implanted pacemaker-defibrillator, vainly trying to get her heart to pump, they chattered about intubation... and then amidst all that chaos, someone reported that they were unable to detect any brain activity...
He turned to his daughter, looking at her panicked expression, and noticed the face of his son, standing just behind them... and witnessed the expression on his face... devastation.
He calmly and firmly announced to her, "Let her go."
She echoed him without hesitation... "Let her go."
"Really?" one of the staff asked loudly. "Yes, let her go," she repeated.
The staff expertly ushered us from the room. A fact which he appreciated, knowing that the final twitches and gasps of life can be emotionally damaging to almost anyone untrained or unexperienced, let alone loved ones.
He walked away in a desperate internal struggle to deny that he was feeling the child within him letting out a long moan of grief-stricken sorrow.
