Today, I have broken into tears eleven times, and there is an hour left. Twice in Waitrose (Mick did almost all of our shopping).
I think I am experiencing
9 months ago today, the ICU Consultants told me that they would be withdrawing “care” and “support” from my husband “when they could find suitable space” (which they defined as a private room, either off the ICU or in another ward}.
I arrived in the ICU at 0830 the next morning, 28 December 2023, to be told that they had not been able to find a room, so Mick would die in the ICU space he had occupied for the past 30 days, just with curtains drawn.
Did I want to call anyone?
Mick and I didn’t have children. My brothers and sisters were in Scotland, 400 miles from the Royal Berkshire Hospital in Reading.
Mick’s brother was in Reading, looking after their mother, recently home after 6 weeks in hospitals after a fall and broken pelvis. “No, Margaret, I can’t come.” I later understood that he wouldn’t leave his wife with his mother. Go figure.
I called a friend. She arrived in 40 minutes (30 minutes drive from our town)
Mick was on coma medications, I can’t remember which without reading the files provided for his Coroner’s Inquest.
When our friend arrived, the nurses disconnected most of the monitors, removed Mick’s feeding tube (and emptied his stomach). And then they removed the ventilation tube, 1108.
He breathed on his own.
I held his hand, and I felt his pulse, and I said, “It’s okay, Mick, you can go. I will be okay”
I lied
And he didn’t leave me.
My friend (she was our friend, but she wasn’t there for him) kept check on the blood oxygen, which was on a tiny display. It counted down, from 98 at 11:08, to 35 when I persuaded her to leave after 8pm. And the ICU wouldn’t comp her parking (I could have spit)
I sent a text to Mick’s brother to say that he was still hanging on. Alan and his wife and there sister appeared about 9pm. Unexpected and unwelcome. They left 2145, all in tears.
I continued to hold Mick’s hand. I kept talking to him. I kept saying I would look after our cat (because the last thing he said was “You go home and cuddle our cat”,
So I said “You don’t need to worry, I will be okay.” I had never lied to him before that day.
2358: what? no more pulse? The nurse (shared with adjacent patient) appeared round the curtain, because she’d had an alert.
I said “2358”. She said “I am so sorry Margaret. 2358”
A doctor came about an hour later and pronounced death, agreeing with out Time.
I drove home.
I remember all of it.
i may be suffering from PTSD, or maybe it is Complicated Grief
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My husband had a cardiac arrest, in bed, next to me. I did CPR until help arrived 15 minutes later. They got his heart started, he was making efforts to breathe on his own, his pupils were equal and reactive. I thought he would make it. They took us to hospital, induced a coma to give his body time to recover. They tried to wake him up, he never regained consciousness. Two weeks later they removed the tubes. He still lived another 6 days, breathing but nothing else. No answering hand squeeze, nothing. No artificial feeding or fluids. I gave him my blessing to go, I told him I would be ok.
The only time I ever lied to him.
Xx
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