Post by KelleeM on Nov 9, 2019 0:42:56 GMT
I just needed to write this down. I’ve received such a tremendous outpouring of love and support and am so grateful.
It was four weeks ago this morning that my husband passed away. I held his hand as he took his last breath and kissed him for the last time.
He had been sick for several weeks. He had gone to his primary care physician, had blood tests, had stool cultures and had more blood tests. His PCP scheduled an appointment for him with a gastroenterologist. That appointment was supposed to be this past week. The ER doctor that admitted him on that morning assured me that there was nothing in his blood work that showed any sign of cancer. She also told me the three or four weeks wouldn’t have made a difference.
At 4 o’clock on that Tuesday morning the doctor told us that he had cancer and it was bad. She said that he was being admitted to ICU and needed a procedure to stop a bleed on his spleen. He had to be transferred to another campus and after the doctor left to make arrangements he sat up in the bed and he looked at me and asked “am I ever going home again?” It broke my heart to tell him that I didn’t know. One of the things that makes me really sad is that he didn’t get to come home again. He was in the ICU for almost exactly 72 hours before he died. All of those hours were spent with doctors, nurses, medical technicians and his family. We never had a real conversation again. He was on a lot of pain medication and was often very sleepy. We both said I love you a lot and that early morning, not long before he died, he looked at me and said “I hope I haven’t disappointed you”.
I’ve had so many conversations with his sons and brother about how he died on his own terms. He never wanted to be sick. He didn’t want to have people taking care of him. He had told me, and I later found out he’d told his family as well, that he’d never have chemotherapy. This was many years before he got sick. He had told me when I was going through chemo in 2013-14. He’d seen two of his sisters fight cancer, and die, as well.
The first day I met him he told me that I’d never met a guy like him before. I thought he was pretty full of himself and laughed. It took no time at all to learn that he was right. He was absolutely one of a kind and we were a great match.
I know now that a huge part of the reason his death hurts so much is because he left an enormous hole in my world. I was talking to a woman who works at the grocery store (we had never met before but she knew who I was and stopped me to express her condolences and give me a hug) and in our conversation I came to a realization. Dick never just showed up or was there. He was PRESENT and was a PRESENCE. He had a big personality and was as friendly as a guy could be. I always said that he’d never met a stranger. He would make everyone and anyone feel comfortable. (Funny aside, we were at a reunion for present and former employees of the company I work for about 5 years ago. He knew I had a former fiancé who had worked there. We were sitting at a table with 5 or 6 other people and he saw a couple sitting alone at another table and told them to join us...yes, it was my former fiancé and his wife...it didn’t matter to Dick, he didn’t want anyone to feel left out.)
I was completely spoiled by him. He cooked dinner at least four nights a week and had it waiting when I got home from work. He cleaned and did the laundry. We went grocery shopping together every Sunday morning. He would do everything and anything to make my life easier. He organized things, fixed things and helped in any way he could. When our stove leaked carbon monoxide at 6:00 on a Saturday night he made sure we had a new one installed by 8:00. If he said he was going to do something he did it.
I miss him so much.
It was four weeks ago this morning that my husband passed away. I held his hand as he took his last breath and kissed him for the last time.
He had been sick for several weeks. He had gone to his primary care physician, had blood tests, had stool cultures and had more blood tests. His PCP scheduled an appointment for him with a gastroenterologist. That appointment was supposed to be this past week. The ER doctor that admitted him on that morning assured me that there was nothing in his blood work that showed any sign of cancer. She also told me the three or four weeks wouldn’t have made a difference.
At 4 o’clock on that Tuesday morning the doctor told us that he had cancer and it was bad. She said that he was being admitted to ICU and needed a procedure to stop a bleed on his spleen. He had to be transferred to another campus and after the doctor left to make arrangements he sat up in the bed and he looked at me and asked “am I ever going home again?” It broke my heart to tell him that I didn’t know. One of the things that makes me really sad is that he didn’t get to come home again. He was in the ICU for almost exactly 72 hours before he died. All of those hours were spent with doctors, nurses, medical technicians and his family. We never had a real conversation again. He was on a lot of pain medication and was often very sleepy. We both said I love you a lot and that early morning, not long before he died, he looked at me and said “I hope I haven’t disappointed you”.
I’ve had so many conversations with his sons and brother about how he died on his own terms. He never wanted to be sick. He didn’t want to have people taking care of him. He had told me, and I later found out he’d told his family as well, that he’d never have chemotherapy. This was many years before he got sick. He had told me when I was going through chemo in 2013-14. He’d seen two of his sisters fight cancer, and die, as well.
The first day I met him he told me that I’d never met a guy like him before. I thought he was pretty full of himself and laughed. It took no time at all to learn that he was right. He was absolutely one of a kind and we were a great match.
I know now that a huge part of the reason his death hurts so much is because he left an enormous hole in my world. I was talking to a woman who works at the grocery store (we had never met before but she knew who I was and stopped me to express her condolences and give me a hug) and in our conversation I came to a realization. Dick never just showed up or was there. He was PRESENT and was a PRESENCE. He had a big personality and was as friendly as a guy could be. I always said that he’d never met a stranger. He would make everyone and anyone feel comfortable. (Funny aside, we were at a reunion for present and former employees of the company I work for about 5 years ago. He knew I had a former fiancé who had worked there. We were sitting at a table with 5 or 6 other people and he saw a couple sitting alone at another table and told them to join us...yes, it was my former fiancé and his wife...it didn’t matter to Dick, he didn’t want anyone to feel left out.)
I was completely spoiled by him. He cooked dinner at least four nights a week and had it waiting when I got home from work. He cleaned and did the laundry. We went grocery shopping together every Sunday morning. He would do everything and anything to make my life easier. He organized things, fixed things and helped in any way he could. When our stove leaked carbon monoxide at 6:00 on a Saturday night he made sure we had a new one installed by 8:00. If he said he was going to do something he did it.
I miss him so much.
