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A Beautiful Love
I wanted to share with you one of the chapters from my new book, A Beautiful Love:
On Thursday, August 4, 2005 when I walked into the hospital room, something was distinctively different. Besides the fact they had covered her eyes with gauze to prevent the fluid from dripping, she just looked different. She was more yellow, more lifeless. I looked at the heart monitor and saw that for the first time since she had been in ICU, her heart beat had dropped below 100. It was hovering at 135-140 since she went into the coma 6 days before. Seeing her like that made my stomach churn. I knew the inevitable was upon us. After all, the doctors had been telling us for days that we should make a decision because we were just prolonging her death. But as a 39 year old mother of 9, her role in our lives was just too important to make that kind of decision. I was secretly hoping she’d make it herself. I leaned over her, kissed her and said, “Joanne, its ok if you want to go. I really don’t want you to because we need you here but I understand if you need to go.” I cried and caressed her hair and face and repeatedly kissed her forehead.
When her mother and 3 brothers arrived I could sense their uneasiness. We requested a meeting with the doctor who told us they had stopped one of her medicines that kept her blood pressure up because it was making her extremities purple. He said if they stopped the other one she would surely die, although he didn’t know how soon.
Chris asked the doctor if they had learned anything from Joanne’s situation. He said, “We learned how to have faith because of the belief that you as a family have displayed.” That was an awesome thing for him to say and attested to our power of faith as a family.
As the day progressed we discussed our options. There weren’t really any options at all but to take her off the second medicine and hope she would recover. We decided that we would stop the medicine at 6 p.m. Looking back I have no idea why we made 6 p.m. the time. Maybe to give ourselves enough time to say goodbye.
Her brothers called their wives so they could say goodbye and I called my family and Joanne’s best friend Steve. I knew Joanne would want him to be there.
At 7 p.m. we were sitting in the family room waiting for others to arrive. I was agonizing over the decision we made to stop the medicine. Looking at my watch, I stood up and said to Steve and Joanne’s brother Chris, “If we’re going to do this, we have to do it now before I change my mind.”
I walked down the hall to Joanne’s room like I was taking the last walk of my life. In a sense, it was the last walk of the life I knew and loved. The walls, floor, doors and windows of the rooms and waiting areas all seemed to go by in slow motion. In her room, there were people around her bed. I wiggled my way through them and stopped and looked into her face. I remember how orange the sky was out her window. It was a mixture of orange with a purple hue. The sun was setting on more than just a day.
I bent down, gave her a gentle hug and nestled my face in her brown hair like I’ve done a thousand times before. I breathed her in deeply one last time. I stayed there forever. I told her how much I loved her, how I would miss her so much and how I didn’t know what we’d do without her. I cried hard for a long time drying my tears in her hair. I didn’t care who heard me or what they were thinking. This was my time with my baby and nothing else mattered. Just me and her, alone again.
When I was done crying, I stood up and wiped my eyes. I breathed in a great, shaking breath. I looked at Chris and said, “Go tell the nurse to stop the medicine.” He asked me if I was sure and I told him I was. I turned to sit down and when I did, Joanne’s heart beat dropped from 80 to 38 to zero. In a matter of 15 seconds, without the nurse doing anything, she was gone and my life was changed forever. I said to the nurse, “Did you stop the medicine already?” She said, “No, I haven’t done anything. She’s doing what she knows she needs to do.”
Joanne gave me the greatest of all gifts that night by making the decision on her own, as I had hoped, by waiting for me to say goodbye. This also confirmed that she could hear us while she was in her coma as we all talked to her and expressed our love to her. She knew it was time to go home. Goodbye my love.
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Comment
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Comment by Singledadof9 on September 21, 2012 at 11:00pm -
That's so beautiful Lori. He said the best thing possible to you...
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Comment by Lori on September 21, 2012 at 10:12pm -
My husband was at home and i had just made the decision to go on hospice care. They look at giving comfort and treating symptoms not curing. He was in so much pain i wanted him to have help for that but I didn't want to hasten his death, again thank you for sharing your story it gives me more peace about what happened with my husband. He did get to receive communion that day, and was singing with a friend until he fell asleep, his last words to me were i love you very very much. a bittersweet memory
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Comment by Singledadof9 on September 21, 2012 at 9:35pm
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Hi Lori, it sounds eerily similar to my situation. Hospitals can be like a business sometimes. They need the beds. I understand. What I don't understand sometimes is how there got to be so much sickness in the world. Anyway, welcome and I'm sorry you are going through this with us. This is a fabulous community and one we can all turn to often. God Bless. :)
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Comment by Lori on September 21, 2012 at 6:45pm
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Thank you for sharing this my husband to helped me with a similar decision, they wanted me to stop dialysis it was the only thing that was keeping him hydrated and giving him calories. I didn't want to make that call. So kept doing the exchanges, he went peacefully only a few days after the discussion. a Sweet gift. You mentioned you wrote a book, Is it available?
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Comment by Suz on August 9, 2012 at 4:49pm -
Thank you so much for sharing this part of my life. I lost twin sons in the 23/24 week of pregnancy thirty years ago. They died during the process of delivery but the doctors let me watch them on the ultrasound as long as I wanted, so I could see them alive for the last time. Your story is different but, in many ways, the same. I started loving them as soon as I was pregnant and felt so honored to be carrying twins. It helps me to read your words. This is such a beautiful, poignant, painful story and it made me cry and touched me to th depths of my own heart. I am especially touched that Joanne 'heard" you and had her own wisdom. She knew when it was time to go.
Thank you,
Suz
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Comment by Singledadof9 on August 9, 2012 at 2:01pm
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Thank you all for commenting on this. It still hurts to read it. Whenever I need a good cry I open up to that chapter and the tears come. Thank you again. :)
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Comment by bj628(Bonnie) on August 9, 2012 at 9:31am -
((((((((((((((((((Hugs))))))))))))))) Thank You for sharing....
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Comment by kimkirt (KK) on August 9, 2012 at 8:29am -
Wow, you gave me goosebumps as well. Thank you for sharing such a private moment. I hope that sharing this has helped you to move forward along our grief journey. I'm glad Joanne gave you that final gift and I hope it brought peace to your heart.
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Comment by honeys(puddin) on August 9, 2012 at 7:38am
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I also had to give the ok to stop all help. I'll never forget those moments. Your words brought back so many memories. I wish you peace:(
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Comment by Singledadof9 on August 8, 2012 at 10:47pm
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Thank you Vickie!
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