A community of peers created by the Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation
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Welcome to this group's coordinator, Wannabmartha!
Latest Activity: 1 hour ago
Here's a link to the Forum discussion with "positive" quotes, photos, links, etc.
ditto dave 55 best friend I ever had....
I think that the person going through the horrible "thing" has the power to decide when to let go and leave this plain.... that no matter what "magic" or drug or radiation I was told that was going to buy me (us) time.... Gordy just decided he had enough and wanted to go, he came to terms with his own mortality in the space of 6 days... when at the beginning of his hospital stay he looked at me with tears in his eyes and said "I don't want to die" ....his choice he was ready to leave.... he was tired and hard for a big strapping man that was never really sick to deal with being sick.... anyhow that my thoughts on the matter....
thanks for the validation Phaedra....
choosing life I can't imagine for the life of me why you would think you contributed to your loved ones death what a horrible thing to say about yourself you have to stop that train right now....
Isn't it hard enough with the "nice" insensitive remarks that make us all feel bad enough PLEASE stop that thought..... we have to stamp out coulda woulda shoulda!
Shaye, I had a similar experience. I had read that it's common for death to occur while the family is out of the room, as if the dying don't want to upset their loved ones. I specifically asked my husband not to do that, to please let me be there with him. We had his hospital bed in our tiny living room, so I would sleep on the sofa just inches away from him. On that last morning, I woke up like a shot, sat straight up. I looked at him and knew he was gone. His brother had gotten up to walk the dog not ten minutes earlier and had checked on him and he was still breathing. So, I really think he woke me up so he could keep his promise.
My husband went in for surgery on Oct 16, complications. He told us he was dying, doctors all said 'no'. I tried to bring him home, but if you leave 'against doctors orders', no assistance is available; no hosp bed, no oxygen, nothing. So he stayed for 8 weeks. Finally one doctor read his DNR & living will paperwork and told me I could take him home. He was home for about 12 hours before he passed. It had been a very busy week, at the beginning I was looking for rehab places, by Wednesday I was looking for hospice and rearranging my home to accommodate a hospital bed. The previous 3 weeks I had lived at the hospital with him. So I was barely able to stay awake. He came home about 2:30 pm, the house was full, hospice people, people from the 24/7 care agency I had engaged, our wonderful neighbors, a priest came and gave him last rites (he was Catholic) then by 1:30 am it was just the one caregiver and my husband and me. I was exhausted, he was home and I thought we had at least the weekend, so I went to lay down. At 2:13 am, I awoke, looked at the clock on his side of the bed and felt peaceful. There was no urgency to get up and check on him. Within a few minutes the caregiver came and asked me to help her 'roll' him, he was too heavy for her to do it. I knew then that he was gone. I believe he stopped and woke me up on his way...to say good bye. By the time hospice got there she proclaimed death at 3 something, but I know it was 2:13 am.
Bergen JC what a nice way to remember. I remember something about a yellow balloon in a children's story...my mom used to wish us 'have a yellow balloon day!' I think of sunshine and happiness with yellow balloons.
Some of you may wonder why a yellow balloon is my profile picture. Here's why: My husband's stroke was last September 22. I got him away from the neglect and incompetence of the local hospital on September 24. For nearly four days, he was under the expert care of the neuro critical care unit at Weill Cornell in NYC. On September 28, I was sitting by his window (working of course....I worked all the way through it; it was the only order I had during all the chaos) and suddenly I saw a yellow balloon right outside the window. The room overlooked the FDR Drive, so there was no park or playground right there. There was no reason for a balloon to be there. It bobbed in front of the window for about 30 seconds while I watched, then a gust of wind caught it and it went =whoosh!= -- straight up into the sky. I craned my neck to watch it until it disappeared. Part of me already knew that it was a sign that he was leaving his body.
The next day they took him off the Versed and the following day he opened his eyes. He looked angry. Even the nurses said he was angry. I was terrified, because he had been lashing out at me for months, and I was now afraid of what would be left of him if he DID wake up. He hadn't wanted to live without a bladder, let alone be severely disabled. I was sure he was angry with me for letting them put him on a ventilator with a feeding tube down his throat.
For three more days, he remained in the same condition, except that there seemed to be nothing behind his eyes when he opened them, or when the doctors opened them to try to gauge cognition. Then they told me to stay home the next day, that I was exhausted and needed rest. That day they were going to start lifting the anti-seizure meds to see if his brain would stay quiet. I think they had a pretty good idea what would happen and they did not want me to be there. The day I stayed home, his brain started seizing again as soon as the first AED was lifted. That night he had another stroke, they put him back on four AEDs and Versed, and on October 5 we had the dreaded "family meeting."
My husband had had in his youth some extensive experience with magick, and I believe the balloon was a sign he sent to me that he was leaving and that he was OK. Why a yellow balloon? I don't know, but yellow balloons are often released as a memorial gesture. I'm not sure anyone else would have been able to see that balloon. But I do know that I did.
I no longer believe he was angry at me when he did regain some level of sludgy consciousness and opened his eyes. I believe that he had already started leaving his body and he was really pissed off that they had dragged him back into it. And that is why he looked so angry whenever they came in to bedside test him. He wanted out and they would not let him.
So I think those of you describing a two-step process are onto something.
Dear Kerrie. I can relate to what you are saying. My husband's soul literally left his body on October 31, his deceased mother's birthday...I flet his soul leave the room, and his body went flat at that moment.
However, his poor, beaten body stayed alive, with my having to give him morphine and all kinds of other stuff, until the next morning.
This is awful and hideous stuff they and we had to endure.
Dear Slick and Dave. I'm sorry for what you had to go thru as well. It sure isn't like the movies, is it? Thank you so much for your kind words.
Onward and upward for better days for all of us.
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