the memories still haunt me
yesterday my good friend joshua had a minor heart attack.
he is ok now, having had three stents placed in his heart during a quick operation, and is expected to be back home this afternoon.
gaela and i visited him in the icu last night, and while he was talkative and cracking jokes (as usual,) i could tell he was scared too.
i had trepidations about going to the icu, but felt it was far more important to be there for my friend than to protect myself from my bad memories.
i’m very glad i went, but i think i’m paying the price today.
during our morning production meeting at work i broke down and had to excuse myself.
i ended up spending about 15 minutes in the bathroom crying like a little baby, re-experiencing that horrible week we spent in the icu right before lori died.
how many times do the doctors have to pull you aside to tell you your wife is dying before you’re allowed to yell back at them?
“yes, i fucking know already! i’ve known for five fucking years you fucking morons! how many times are you going to repeat it?!”
the sounds of patients moaning in pain, the wheezing and hissing of respirators, the robotic beeping of monitors as they tick out your loved one’s vital statistics like fluctuations in some ghastly stock market.
it was all a bit too much to bear.
seeing joshua weak and frightened was hard on my heart. i feel the scar there, where lori’s pain once resided, and i know the skin is only just now beginning to heal.
i still wake up with nightmares.
they haunt me when i sleep, and they are almost all the same, though the general environment changes.
lori is alive but sick. i am struggling to find some way to save her. we are hopeful in spite of ourselves. she smiles and laughs, but there are tears welling in her eyes.
yes, i may be having more good days than bad––and for that i am eternally grateful––but my dreams are still dangerously unstable, and i guess the ptsd will linger for a long time to come.
Cary wish I could reach through the computer and give you a hug. Bless you for being there for your friend Joshua, I’m glad to hear that he’s going to be alright. Know this had to be hard on you after all the time you spent being with your Lori and being in the ICU. Know you put your feelings aside to be there for her, that happens when you love someone going through health problems and it had to be so very hard for you to keep the smile on your face when you were crying inside, but you hung in there. It takes time before you can feel peace in your heart and you’ll have good and bad days, I know I still do after losing my loved ones. The Grief Support group helped you to start moving forward, but like anyone who has been through what you have, it doesn’t happen overnight, how can it when you love someone like you did Lori. Contact your friends you made in the Grief Support meetings when you have a really bad day, they understand being in similar situations and will be there for you when you have these times, that’s what friends are for. Know you’d be there for them also. Just take it one day at a time Cary…. and know I care. Arlene (AJ)
Hi Son,
I’m so glad you wrote this post. I was concerned knowing that you would be there for Josh & how difficult it might be. I’m so glad to hear that Josh is doing well & boy can I relate to your description of the sights & sounds of the icu & our thoughts when we look into our dear friends vulnerable eyes. Good to express your thoughts and feelings Cary and you do it so very well. I’m here for you. Love, MOM
This post was the hardest one for me to finish reading. For I know only to well exactly what you’re saying. For insensitive doctors to helplessly hoping to nightmares that hit you even in the shower. I know it doesn’t really help but I just want you to know you’re not alone. I don’t have the answers and I’m glad to just get it through the night. But I know some days are a little better. And Lori has never ceased to “hear” you. Love endures all things.