The Time We Have Been Given

It was Thursday, October 12th, 2023.

It was not the first time life was suddenly thrown into upheaval, chaos. In 1989, I drove away from my home state at the age of 19, consciously not clear on why I wouldn’t be going back, but knowing full well that I would not be. In 2009 I loaded 5 totes and my 4 sons into a minivan with a stranger, a friend of a friend, and drove away from a 20 year long abusive marriage to go into hiding for as long as we could stay hidden. In 2014 I was trampled by a pony mare while handling a young stud pony whom she apparently didn’t like, and didn’t care I was in the way. The hoof to my lower back meant I had no control of the lower half of my body for 6 terrifying months, and that it would take 2 years for me to walk some version of steady again, and for the rest of my life I will deal with the pain and restricted mobility. In 2017, the ’93 double wide I was renting for my children and I burned to the ground, and we lost everything, again. I probably could have sued my elderly landlords, as they’d been told numerous times that something was wrong with the electricity in one of my bedroom walls, and that was where it began, the inspector later stated….but they were elderly, he was in stage 4 kidney failure, and doing so wasn’t going to bring back the unreplaceable things lost, like my grandparents wedding photo, or the trinkets from friends supporting me through leaving the aforementioned abusive ex. I should have gone after the rental insurance, who said they didn’t have to pay out because my state requires a rider for them to pay any damages unless the damages are caused by an act of God, and these damages clearly were not, and I had not purchased the rider (that I’d never been informed of before), but I was reeling yet again and unclear of mind, and still dealing with the freeze response that had been ground in over decades of abuse.

One of the rocks I could lean on through all of that came into my life in 2012. I have always loved the outdoors, was finally coming out of my shell and realizing I needed at least one adult friend (I’m very much an introvert so don’t need many), and had a strong desire to hike, only had no idea where one would do that in this area. So I looked for a hiking group, and long story short, I met a man named Neil, at Starbucks first at his insistence – “I could be a serial killer, you don’t just go hiking with a stranger without meeting first!” – yes, I was still way too naïve and trusting somehow! I left that first meeting thinking “this will work perfect. He’s great friend material, not my type so don’t have to worry about that, and we can get some exercise!” or such.

You talk while you hike though. Over time, we learned we had almost parallel life stories, different sides of the same coin. Along those trails, we inadvertently fell in love.

That October day, 5 weeks ago now, it was my day off from work. I was paying bills when I heard him start coughing. Rough, deep coughs that sounded different than what I’d grown used to, so I went to check on him. He gasped “Inhaler!”, I dug it out of the pocket of his pants on the floor, and a few sprays later, all seemed normal. “Damned allergies, something blew in with that cool front apparently” he said. I agreed allergies, and therefore his asthma, had been horrid this year. He had a doctor’s appointment scheduled a few hours later, so said he’d get his shower, maybe the steam would help. While in the shower, his phone rang, I answered it as it was his 88 year old mother’s assisted living home. They found her on the floor, had called an ambulance, did he want her to go to the hospital? I put the phone on speaker so he could talk to the EMT. “She is still a bit confused but otherwise seems OK now, should we leave her here? She says she’s OK” the man said. “Take her, she said she was OK when she fell off a ladder and broke her neck” my husband replied. “Oh…that kind” the EMT responded, then called out “get her on the stretcher, we’re going!” to someone. Neil started coughing again, and the man commented “hey, take care of yourself, that doesn’t sound good”, and hung up.

A few minutes later, he was drying off, and looked very pale, not himself. He said he was dizzy, and wanted to use his cpap to push some air before he dressed, so he laid down in our bed and put it on. He asked me to hold him, so I laid down behind him, laying my head on the side of his chest, and put my arm around him. I didn’t hear the reassuring thump-thump of his normal heartbeat. I heard swish-pause-swish, and asked him “when can I call an ambulance, something isn’t right”…he replied, weakly, “now”. I dialed 911.

They were there in about 5 minutes…thankfully we live about that far from the local hospital. They came in, I directed them to our bedroom, one of the men started questioning as to what happened, I began telling him…and one of the others ran out of our room, yelled “get the dogs out of the way!” and in the time it took me to put our Collie in the back yard they were coming in the front door with a stretcher. I heard “you aren’t going to get that into this room” and then a stocky woman and a large man were dragging him out of our bedroom, around the 2 odd corners that the stretcher wouldn’t fit through, heaved him onto it, strapped him down and ran out the door. The man who was talking with me had ran out the door with them. Obviously something is very wrong…I grab my purse, run out the door myself, to see the back doors of the ambulance closing, and a fireman headed my way. “Do not try to follow, they are going full lights and sirens, just get to the hospital as quickly and safely as you can.” I think I asked what had happened, or why, what was going on, that his neurologist said for him to go to St. David’s North if he had another stroke as that’s where he works out of. The fireman replied “Ma’am, we can’t go there, its too far. We’re hoping he makes it to Georgetown.”

I still can’t find words for what those two sentences did inside. Georgetown hospital is literally 5 minutes away, if you stop for lights.

I know it was all over my face, the attempt to process. His face softened, and he said “he is VERY sick ma’am. Just get there safely, now go.” I was pulling out when a neighbor came to my window, asked if there was anything he could do to help. I asked him to put our Collie back in, make sure she has water, I can’t remember…he said he would, and let him know if we need anything else. I thanked him, and pulled out.

I prayed all the way there. Shock was settling in, like a blanket. I vaguely remember parking, walking to the window in the ER and stating “that’s my husband the ambulance is bringing in now” as I’d seen it in the unloading area, doors open. I heard the intercom “CODE BLUE, ER HALLWAY, ER ROOM 14, CODE BLUE ER ROOM 14” and I knew it was him. I knew it was him. I KNEW it was him. “Sit down, I’ll check if he’s here” she said. I replied “that code IS HIM” and she replied “you don’t know that, sit down”. I was shaking, and turned from the window, trying to decide what to do. I am pragmatic, and that side was rising -‘they don’t need you underfoot right now’, when a different woman threw the ER door open, pointed at me and said “is that your husband in the ambulance?” to wit I replied “yes”, and she grabbed me by the arm, pulled me behind the door still clenching my right arm and looked at me hard, shaking me slightly – “is there a DNR?”

I couldn’t hardly process that question. “IS THERE A DNR?!?” with another shake, and I snapped out of it ‘No, NO there is no DNR! Why?” but she was already talking to someone through her headpiece – “wife says no DNR, keep trying”. She turned to me, said “I’m sorry, here, sit down right here”, plopped me on a bench and trotted off down the hallway, calling back “stay there, someone will be with you in a moment”.

I’m shaking again, now. So much still to process, which is part of the reason for this blog. I process best by writing.

I think the rest will be in the next post. This is getting very long, and it is hard to type when I’m shaking. If you’ve made it this far, Welcome. I had to get this out tonight.