I sometimes wonder if a traumatic incident can trigger health problems, both physical and mental. Like cancer. It was lying dormant with very few side effects. Then suddenly air hits it and it spreads and runs rampant. I don't know. It's early and my coffee hasn't kicked in yet.
I was having depression and anxiety before M died. But his death really was the catalyst. Within a year of his death I fell and broke my foot, had to have an emergency appendectomy, was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, attempted suicide, and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
I'm going to copy/paste the entry I wrote about the day M died. I'm too drained to rewrite about it. It's kind of cathartic to re-read it.
I remember being irritated the day I left for work. I wasn't feeling well, but at least it was a short shift for American Express. M woke up and was sitting on the couch when I left for work. He and T (my daughter) were supposed to go to Spirit and then to M's grandma's house to do some painting that day. We each said "I love you". Then I left.
I called him twice while I was at work. When he didn't answer I figured he was at his grandma's painting. When I got home and pulled into the parking lot at our apartments, I saw his car. I became upset. Here he was being lazy all day when we were supposed to be getting this house ready to move into in little over a months time!
The moment I walked through the door T came up to me and said, "Daddy has been sleeping ALL day long and won't get up!" I got mad. How could he sleep all day and leave T to fend for herself. "Didn't you try to wake him up?" I asked. She told me he wouldn't wake up. I started to feel something wasn't right. So I went into our room to see what was going on.
When I shook him, he didn't move. When I touched his skin... when I saw his face. I knew. I screamed. Just screamed. T came running and I was shaking so badly I could hardly tell her to get my phone. While she got it, I felt for the pulse I knew I wouldn't find. He'd been dead for hours. Since before T woke up that morning.
I wouldn't let T into the room. I called 911 and I was hysterical. The lady could hardly understand me. She asked me if I wanted to start CPR. I told her, "I'm an RN. He's cold... his skin is mottled and his lips are blue... he's been dead for hours.. .nothing can be done... he's dead!:. That's when I looked at me, her eyes huge, and she started to freak out.
I grabbed her and took her outside while I was on the phone. Wanted to get out of that apartment. We were waiting for about 4 minutes outside for the fire department to arrive. It seemed like hours. The 911 operator accidentally hung up on me.
It was then that I called my dad. Totally hysterical. I just kept screaming, "He's dead! M'd dead! My baby was home with him all day and he was dead!" Then the firemen made me hang up the phone.
We went back into the apartment and T stood by a gentleman doing a ride-along that day. She was leaning on him, like she couldn't stand on her own. I stood in the hallway while the firemen checked my husband. A young fireman, about M's age, came and and said, "he's gone". I knew this already... but hearing it for sure from someone else just hit me like a ton of bricks. I leaned against the wall and just kept saying, "No...no..."
i don't remember much for a while. They sat me on the couch, I was shaking so bad. They had T come sit with me and we just clung to each other like if we let go, we'd lost each other. She was crying and scared... I was rapidly going from sobbing to totally numb. The firemen gave her a little green stuffed bunny Beanie Baby.
My dad called my phone and one of the paramedics answered it. My dad wanted to be with me, but didn't know where I was, at the house or at the apartment.
He showed up and I just remember clinging to him, almost unable to stand myself. Then he hugged T and she wouldn't leave his side. I'm sure she was terrified to see me in the state I was in.
Sometime during this, the Crisis Response ladies showed up. One asked to speak to T alone, she's a child counselor. T agreed and they went to talk.
I sat on the couch, painfully aware that my husband's body was only feet away from me. And I couldn't do anything to save him.
Sometime during all this my mom showed up. I just sobbed in her arms. The Crisis Response ladies called my work and let them know what was going on. I was supposed to work the next day. Work said to take off as much time as I needed. I had them call M's best friend, J. My dad took T home to their place. She didn't need to be there for all this.
A short while later, J came up the stairs to the apartment, tears running down his face. His parents were with him. We just hugged and cried.
I remember being questioned by a detective (protocol), a medical examiner, a fireman... everyone it seemed. Most of the time I just sat on the couch feeling like I was having an out of body experience. This couldn't really be happening, could it??
I got home at 1545. M's time of death is listed at 1555. The time the paramedics pronounced him dead. The medical examiner didn't arrive until close to 1900, I think.
M's dad arrived around that time as well. The paramedics and the police officer wouldn't let me call his parents. They sent two officers over to deliver the news. M's mom told me she almost fainted when they told her. That R (M's dad) had to hold her up....
They asked if I wanted to say goodbye to M before the closed the body bag. I started to sob. I told them I couldn't, I just couldn't see him that way again. R and J went in to say their goodbyes while my mom and J's mom, Mary, took me on a walk. I didn't want to see him in the body bad.\
But it was hot and I felt really faint. So we headed back to the apartment. I saw them bring my husband, my best friend out of our apartment on a gurney in a body bag. I saw them place his body in the medical examiner's van. I saw them take him away.
I got a call from one of M's friends about this time. He was in shock, he had heard from someone and needed to know if it was true. I don't remember much of what I said. But I asked him to let everyone know, and that I didn't want any calls from anyone right now.
The Crisis Response ladies stayed with me the whole time. One of them saw my scars on my arms. From where I used to cut myself. She talked with my mom about it, making sure my mom was well aware that this could cause me to go back into that depression that I was in when I was doing all the cutting.
They helped me pack my things. I remember walking into the bedroom I had once shared with M and sensing a huge change in the atmosphere. It was heavy and oppressive and sad. Or maybe that's just how I felt. The medical examiner had taken his glasses and wedding band off and lain them on my jewelry box. I took the wedding band, nicked from nearly two years of wear. I had never seen it off M's hand until that day.
It took nearly 4 months to get my answers. The Autopsy Report. Those pieces of paper I dreaded seeing but needed desperately so I could start moving forward with my life.
When it arrived in the mail and I saw the seal for the Office of the Medical Examiner on the envelope it felt like my heart skipped a beat. I sat it on my desk and stared at it for a while. My hands trembled as I opened it up. Seeing my husband's name with the date of the autopsy on the front page caused my tears to flow.
I read and re-read the report. Every agonizing detail. I couldn't get the image of M lying on the steel autopsy table with a Y incision exposing his chest cavity out of my mind.
His cause of death was ruled as: Sudden cardiac arrest associated with hypertension and fatty liver disease. Fatty liver disease?? I knew he was drinking more than usual... but until I started putting the pieces together it didn't make any sense.
Eventually I had to wake up and smell the coffee. He had been an alcoholic. I turned a blind eye to his drinking. He had alcohol in his system the day he died.
I think his death really set off a chain of health events.
No comments:
Post a Comment