I have absolutely no idea what I am doing here. But it seems that typing things is something I can do. My beloved wife Kelly passed away on January 11th. (The same day I started a new job) She is the most wonderful thing in the universe.
Kelly and I knew each other from my early days in high school. She was prominent in the band, and I was a fantastically awkward geek, and the captain of the science club. We knew each other, but at a classmate’s graduation party, we immediately fell in love. After a year of , well, I don’t know what, we became a permanent couple. She joined me at college to finish her senior year, we bought a house, and then we were married. (Yep, in that order.)
After our daughter was born, Kelly was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. This was the middle 90's. This formerly deadly disease was now quite treatable, mostly with radiation, but sometimes with chemo, Kelly did not need chemo. At the time, we were clearly told the risks. The upper 10% of her heart would be irradiated, as well as some of her salivary glands and her thyroid. There were no options, and we didn't care. this would save her, and it did. Most of her salivary glands ceased to function, but that was all. We carried on our lives in happiness. My son was born 6 years later. In part because we were waiting to see if the cancer recurred. It never did. the treatment was a complete success.
Years later, her thyroid became cancerous. This is not uncommon, and, of course, could never be directly tied to the treatment. we knew this could be related to the treatments for Hodgkin's, but it was an expected issue. Her thyroid was removed without an issue, she spent a few days living in our (nicely furnished) basement while she took a radiation pill, and everything was fine. We were happy.
In the early 20-teens, it became obvious that she did not have the energy she once had. Fairly simple activities would leave her breathless. Eventually we received the diagnosis, her aortic valve, the same one that received the radiation so many years ago, was failing. 50% of the blood pumped would just slip back the other way. We were in our early 40s. We wanted a long life of vacations, traveling and family. The answer was simple, let’s fix it. We went to some good surgeons in our city, and they gave us our options. We chose a biological valve and she had it replaced. It was…spectacularly difficult, and yet, she recovered fine. I was with her every day, every moment in the hospital. If she needed a sip of water, I was there. If she needed an adjustment in position, I was there.
On Christmas Eve of last year (2020) Kelly went out to get the mail. It was well after dark and I was asleep in bed. (We lived quite different wake/sleep lives) My children, home for the holidays, thought she had been gone too long and checked outside. Kelly was laying on the front porch, unconscious. They called 911, woke me up, and by the time I could get out to the porch, she had woken up. The paramedics came and could find nothing wrong with her. It appeared she had fainted. We contacted both her regular and heart doctors. As far as we could tell, the issue related to her low blood pressure, which had been an ongoing, known issue. They changed her medication to compensate.
A few days later, I was up early in the morning (different wake/sleep lives) and I heard a sound from the bedroom like a moaning. I assumed it was Kelly having a nightmare. When I went into the bedroom, she was stiff and barely conscious. It went downhill from there. She couldn’t hear me or move. I called 911. After an eternity, but probably less than a minute, she began to wake up. The paramedics came again, and again told us that they could find no reason for the event. We began to consider the possibility that these were epileptic seizures. Again, we reached out to her doctors and scheduled visits. It was the holidays, though, and nothing was available.
On the night of January 5th, I think, we were watching TV. We were about to start a new streaming episode and Kelly said she didn’t feel like watching another one. A few seconds later, she said, “it’s happening again” and she squinted. She was able to move to the couch, but then quickly passed out. This was the first time I had seen an entire “episode.” She was completely lifeless. I said her name over and over again. I tried to sit her up. (Why, who the hell knows?) she was completely limp and gone. I tried every stupid thing I could…and then she started to wake up again. Again, we called 911, and this time there was no question, she went to the hospital. Epilepsy or otherwise, this needed to stop.
After a few false starts, and a couple more episodes in the hospital (horrifying), we finally arrived at the actual problem. After only 8 years, about half the time we had hoped for, her heart valve had so much scar tissue surrounding it that it was failing. This explained everything we had been going through. I was scared, but Kelly was very positive. “Fine, another heart valve replacement and I’ll be fine.” But this was Early January 2021, the worst Part of the COVID outbreak.
There were no ICU rooms available. Nowhere. Her heart doctor and surgeon thought they could get one in the next week. She had been scheduled for a pacemaker before (Again, long story short) and they revived this plan to insure she wouldn’t have any more episodes before the replacement. On Monday, January 11th, as I sat down for my new hire (virtual) orientation, I received a text from Kelly that she had gone in unexpectedly early for the pacemaker surgery. Great.
A couple hours later I received a phone call. It was the surgeon. He told me that the pacemaker had been implanted, and that afterword her blood pressure could not be brought up. And what did I want to do?
What? I had no clear idea what he was saying. After a few seconds I got the nerve to ask, “Is she alive?” He said some blah, blah that I cannot remember at all. I eventually realized he was asking me if it was OK if they stopped giving her extraordinary measures. I had no idea. I think I said something like “try for another few minutes” but I knew the answer at that point. She had died just after the pacemaker was implanted.
I then had to walk in to my son’s bedroom, still asleep, wake him up, and tell him that mom had died. I called my daughter who lives out of town. Unfathomable. I called her parents and mine, and then my son and I went to the hospital. Nothing was real.
The last time I saw her was on Sunday. Because of COVID, I was never allowed inside. I drove around the (small) hospital speaking to her on cell until I found her room and we talked through the window. The hospital had posted room numbers visible through the window so people could do that very thing.
In no way was I expecting anything other than a positive outcome, just like all the other trials of our life. But that was the last time I saw her. Through that stupid, heavily tinted window. She looked like an angel.
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