Waiting

So after they told me yesterday his pupils were fixed and dilated and I knew he was gone, I asked Daddy to take me home. Right then. I just couldn't stay at the hospital - there were so many people there, wonderful loving friends who had been there since Thursday morning when the nightmare began. But I felt myself crumbling under the weight of the truth and I couldn't do it there in a hospital waiting room. I picked up the canvas bag (his purse lol) and hugged it to me smelling the smell of him on it. I walked out behind Daddy with my eyes down - I could not bear to make eye contact at that moment. I was about to explode with rage and grief and disbelief, and the spark of eye contact would have ignited it. Another friend followed us home and guarded the driveway - so sweetly asking loving friends to let Callie and I have some privacy and alone time. And they did.

Susan and Lisa stayed at the hospital with their Daddy. They were sure the hospital and doctors were not doing enough and they were sure their anger would change that. They weren't ready to accept the truth and they needed that time. This may be when their anger at me began - I'm not sure.

I had to make the decision about taking him off the respirator. And today was the Who Who's dance at Callie's school. And Susan and Lisa were still so angry. Today was not the right day if there is a right day for that sort of thing. So I talked with them all and we decided we would wait till tomorrow to turn off the respirator and all the other horrid machines and tubes keeping his body going.

So I had today. Callie got ready for Who's Who, Susan and Lisa were at some other relatives house because they couldn't stand to be around me. So I went to the hospital and stayed with Johnny. All by myself. Just him and me. This last Saturday night we would have together.

And I sat there with him that last Saturday night - touching him, nuzzling him, smelling the deliciousness of him, and talking talking talking to him. Crying and praying and talking. Remembering and telling him good-bye.

Today's the day...

he really died. They sent us home last night for some rest telling us we could see him in ICU this morning. We came back bright and early - before 6 am. And waited. And waited. Finally a nurse came out and said the Dr. wanted to do another 'some kind of test' on him since his pupils had become fixed and dilated this morning.

WHAT?

Oh, did they not tell you?

No. Nobody had bothered to come out and tell me. And I knew in that moment that he was gone.

Crash!

He crashed this morning. He had been sick all night and all they did was give him phenergan. I knew he was running a fever, but it didn't seem to matter to anyone. He was very red and his heart was beating so fast I could see his shirt moving up and down.

When Daddy got there, Johnny wasn't talking much anymore and I started crying. Daddy got mad and went looking for a doctor. He found Dr. Hanna in the hall and got him to come check on Johnny. His heart rate was so high, Hanna couldn't register his blood pressure so he made the decision to move him to ICU even tho he was not the 'physician of record'. That joker was out of town. Not that he'd been called anyway.

I was so relieved I started crying again. Johnny said, "What's the matter? You're scaring me." I said, "No, no baby. I'm just relieved. You're gonna be ok now."

Last thing I ever said to him.

Surgery Day

Today is the day Johnny had surgery to repair a hernia on his bladder. It had been causing some discomfort so he elected to go ahead and have it repaired. Callie was graduating in May, Lisa was getting married in June - he wanted to feel good for those occasions.

It was a long day - we got there early and waited. We prayed before he was wheeled to surgery. I kissed him and told him I loved him.

He did well in surgery but we had to wait a long time to get a room. It was almost 11 pm before we got a room on the 8th floor - surgery floor where they 'specialize' in caring for surgery patients.

Yeah.

Johnny

Tomorrow marks the 6th anniversay of Johnnys' surgery - January 28th. I will never forget it no never not ever not for the rest of my life. Or the 4 hellish days that followed.

This year it appears I will 'handle' it better than any year past. The rawness apparently is beginning to heal some. I can still cry unexpectedly at the most surprising times or get choked up talking about him but it is better. The Carols and Communion service did not absolutely slay me this year - that's how I knew I was dealing with it better.

My Johnny had a simple surgery January 28, 2004. On the 29th, he crashed. I believe it to have been caused by toxic shock. Whatever 'it' was it raced through his body shutting down one organ after the other until it reached his heart. His organs were so damaged we could not donate them And 'they' wanted to tell me he had a heart attack. Liars. I am still angry and bitter and I hope it does not consume me all the rest of my life. That's why I am encouraged that I am 'handling it better'. Maybe by the time he died on February 1st I will not be a total mess this year. It is my goal to not speak of it - except maybe to Callie. It doesn't matter to anyone else anyway.

But it matters to me. I still miss you every day, Johnny. Every. damn. day.

Southern Voice

Tim McGraw has a wonderful song out called "Southern Voice" that I just love. And you'll notice from my list of favorite songs, Dixie don't do country.

But I do Southern. Proudly. Innocently. Easily. Joyfully!!

'Course, that's all I know. I've lived in the South all my life. I don't know any other life but this - any other way but our way. And I love it. Love it, I tell you. I love the slower pace of life here. We get tore up if we catch all the red lights down the main highway. Or if you don't turn your blinker on for the right turn. I love how we all know each other or 'know of' each other. I may not know you, but I know somebody who does. Or who is related to you. Or who was married to you once. Or twice. And I love our accent. I love those flat 'vowls' that make all the difference in the way we sound and the way Yankees sound. (And for the record, Yankees are anybody that don't talk like us! Geography doesn't matter.)

So what Tim says in his song "Southern Voice" - that's us, that's our life.
'

Migraine blues...

Had another migraine today - a killer. Now I'm moving around like I'm made from fine china and might break easily. It's hard being a delicate flower but it pisses me off too. But maybe it's the thorn in my flesh. Maybe I'm supposed to be made better by them somehow.

Nah. I hate them. I feel like I'm losing my life to them.

On a positive note, the ice bag I bought last week at WalMart worked like a charm.