A community of peers created by the Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation
Time stopped...
People often recall the exact thing they were doing when JFK was shot or when the Twin Towers collapsed. They remember the television broadcasts in intimate detail. As they relive the moments, disturbing memories come to life. Why? Because these were unforgettable tragedies that impacted our country in ways we never imagined or expected. We saw the wickedness of evil minds unfold and in conjunction with that we stood in disbelief. We didn’t have words. We were in shock.
Similarly, on March 12, 2012 I watched a tragedy unfold right before my very eyes. As I sat in the radiology waiting area with my husband, we chatted much like we had for the past 25 years of our married life. We could always find something to talk about. But this conversation was different because it ended abruptly when, in the middle of a sentence, he dropped the glass of water he was holding. Unbeknownst to me, he was already gone.
The next several minutes alternate between a mixture of vivid memories and a complete blur. Instantly I called for help while asking him if he was okay. Rick was unresponsive so my former EMT skills kicked in: ABC’s, I reminded myself. I needed to open the airway. I struggled. My frustration quickly grew when I couldn’t get his head to tip backward. It rested against the chair and the wall and he was too big for me to easily move him. Finding him pulseless, I had immediately called a “Code Blue”. Only seconds had passed before hospital employees raced to my rescue. There was a flurry of activity as they moved him to a cart to begin CPR. They intubated him and connected him to a defibrillator which delivered multiple shocks – albeit unsuccessfully. The cardiac meds were injected, but nothing changed.
I sat motionless with tears streaming down my cheeks. Overwhelmed by disbelief and encircled in shock, it all seemed so surreal. I wasn’t really losing my husband, was I? This is just a bad dream. Someone, wake me up – NOW!!! I can’t stand it any longer. I glance at the doctors and I’m certain the look of desperation in my eyes spoke volumes. I felt utterly and completely helpless. My hope rested on them and in the prayers that I was raising up to God.
But on that day, my prayers weren’t answered. I didn’t get a medical miracle. God had far different plans than what I had envisioned for Rick and me. All my hopes and dreams were shattered like a mirror that had been slammed into a concrete floor. I watched as the tips of Rick's earlobes changed to a dismal gray. My medical training told me that oxygenated blood was no longer perfusing and circulating to the tissues; my heart told me he was truly gone – a realization that I had not wanted to accept.
How could this be? How could this possibly be happening???? Here was a man who was completely active and who had only been to a doctor a few times in his adult life. It didn’t matter that his cholesterol was only 160… or that his EKG had been normal two days before… or that his heart enzyme tests all showed he was doing fine… or that his oxygen saturation level was perfect. None of that mattered now. The test results were meaningless. Instead, I was left to face the stark reality of his passing. I was hurled into uncharted territory, thrown onto a path for which there was no GPS to provide directions. I felt so lost.
The sadness and pain which would seep in over the coming weeks were temporarily placed on hold as a result of the impending shock and numbness. But once they started trickling in, things quickly turned into an avalanche. It was the worst, most excruciating, indescribable pain. It was as though a knife had been ripped through my heart, piercing me to the very core of my being. I couldn’t breathe. My nauseated stomach was twisted into knots. The heaviness in my chest weighed me down, like a massive anchor on a ship. I questioned how I could go on without Rick by my side. I didn’t want to move forward. I wanted to be in Heaven with him and I wanted it now. Patience was never one of my virtues; it certainly wasn't my forte' now.
Even though weeks continued to pass, for me time had literally stopped on that Monday morning in March. In a single heartbeat, my life was forever changed.
Views: 92
Comment
-
Comment by AEDforever (Ali) on July 12, 2012 at 12:05am -
oh Vickie...i so relate. ...i never expected Paul to die that awful day..as his cardiologist kept saying "i don't think it's his heart"..and so, when they started rushing around and rushing him to cath lab, I still thought..he would be okay and in ICU..but no, he was gone very quickly. I think (and im sure you can understand) i suffer from ptsd from watching my husband suffer all day, and then..all the activity..and then..the worst news. we spent the evening before watching tv, cuddling and laughing in the hospital..so how could this be? 24 hrs later hes gone? to hard to understand. mine is not the same..but im sure the shock of it all comes back to you again and again. peace and love and hugs to you.
-
Comment by hendrixx2 on July 10, 2012 at 7:45am -
Hi Vickie,
It is truly a sad thing to have lost your partner in such a way...the pain you speak of is not unfamiliar to me, I understand where you are coming from. The weight you speak of has become a constant companion tho now, at times it appears to lighten every so often. Attempting to put that scene you endured, along with the entire notion of not having your partner in some safe and good place is the challenge we all face with our particular situations. Please know that you are not alone on the journey and that in time (arrrggghhh!!), we will find that safe place, Peace my friend...
-
Comment by Pat222 on July 9, 2012 at 10:47pm
-
Vickie, Thank you for sharing. My husband had just been given a clean bill of health by his cardiologist less than 4 weeks before he passed. He went to the doctor's office the day before he died and complained about not gettting enough oxygen and just feeling weird. He was diagnosed with bronchitis, given an enhaler, and died less than 24 hours later of a massive heart attack. Just like your husband, he did what he was supposed to do to protect his life from this too early death. Unfortunately, I know the pain you are going through with 13 years for my first husband (who also died suddenly from a heart attack) to 5 weeks tomorrow since losing my second husband the same way. I know you have heard that time helps, and I know that it does from my first time in this walking hell. Thank God there is this site to help us all through the pain and stuggle of adjusting to life without out our wonderful spouses. I never ask for patience from God anymore, cause in order to perfect patience, he has to give you struggles to be patience about. I now ask for PEACE. When I pray for my own peace of mind, I now pray for those who are on this site and working through the worst pain they will suffer in this life. God Bless you Vickie!
-
Comment by Susan J on July 9, 2012 at 7:29pm -
Not knowing May 2 2010 was going to be his last, Jon and I went to church as usual. He visited with all out friends that morning. He spent the afternoon shopping for a cajun dinner he was going to be cooking as a fundraiser. When he got home, I was on the phone to my mother. He started the barbecue and then seasoned a couple of steaks before he sat down to wait for the coals to be ready. I went ot ask him what time to expect dinner and he was gone. Chilling already. Both our dogs were in his lap, protecting him. I knew there was nothing to be done. You are so right about the nightmare. In one second, life changed completely. 911, paramedics, firemen, the coroner's office. The Sheriff who came to investigate me. It was horrific.
-
Comment by Suz on July 9, 2012 at 5:13pm -
Vickie, sweetie,
This just tears me apart to read. I can't imagine a sudden death like this. As awful as cancer was, death was expected. This must have been truly horrible. I am so sorry for you when I read this, but I am also proud of all the positive changes, too. You have really worked had to help yourself.
Come and see me sometime!!!
Love to you,
Suz
-
Comment by chez2all on July 9, 2012 at 4:07am -
Thinking of you Vickie, wishing you peace as you try to make sense of this incredibly trying part of your life. Keep writing...it helps, Chez
-
Comment by Lynne on July 9, 2012 at 1:01am -
Vickie, hope writing this helps in some way. I think my husband passed in a very similar way, only I wasn't there. Either way, it's awful and I'm so very sorry for what you went through. I so identify with what you wrote and I just hope it was useful to you. Hugs, Lynne
This site is run by widowed people, for widowed people
Widowed Village connects peers with each other for friendship and sharing. The moderators, administrators, and others involved in running this site are not professionals.
Please don't interpret anything you read here as medical, legal, or otherwise expert advice. Don't disregard any expert's advice or take any action as a result of what you read here.
We're friends, not doctors, financial or legal professionals, and we're not "grief experts." But we are here, and we've been "there."
HOT TOPICS!
© 2013 Created by Supa Dupa Fresh.
You need to be a member of Widowed Village to add comments!
Join Widowed Village