Its been 9 months since David died, and I have worn his wedding ring together with my wedding ring. I took my rings off today to do yard work, and while I was working, I thought about what it must be like for the doctor who took the ring off Davids finger, knowing that he was going to have to give me the ring, then explain to me that David was going to die, and why, how and when. I think about what the doctor is thinking as he walks from Davids bedside to the Critical Care Family Room. How many times in his career has he had to do this, and I wonder what he does and how he feels after he leaves the room. I wonder how many times the doctor has had to do this, and if he remembers each time. Giving the spouse the patients wedding ring has a different meaning than a watch or a pair of glasses. Does he go right back to work, or go somewhere and cry? Eleven years ago, David and I were in that exact same room, waiting for the doctor to deliver the news about Amy, after she had fallen while skating, and had a severe skull fracture. That room was just as dark and cold as it was the morning David died in that same hospital. The doctor told us that Amy would probably live, but would not recover, as she would soon start bleeding into her brain, and there was nothing they could do. The doctor told us that she would probably be in a vegetative state for the rest of her life, or she would be mentally and physically disabled. The chances that she would recover and have a normal life were almost impossible. Fast-forward five days later to that same doctor, telling us that they were amazed because Amy had a complete recovery, and could go home. A month later, I took her for a 3-hour follow-up test at the hospitals Rehabilitation Center, where she was checked for her hearing, speech, memory, writing skills, motor skills, etc. After everything was finished, the Occupational Therapist sat down to review the results, and as he was reading, I heard him quietly say to himself, a miracle. I wonder what the reaction was of the ER doctor who gave us Amys prognosis that night, once he read that final report from from Amys OT? And what if it turned out that Amys ER doctor was the same one David had that night, and the doctor thinks about Amys miracle every time he has to deliver bad news? When we were in the hospital with David 9 months ago, I was thinking about Amys miracle, and hoping that it could happen again, with David. After the doctor talked to me, I went to see David for the first time since we got to the hospital. He looked completely normal, but right then, I knew with a certainty that it was final, and there wouldnt be another miracle. At that moment, I stopped asking questions, because there was nothing else I wanted to know. Even though I have accepted that David will never come back home, every so often I think, for a fraction of a second, that he could. Ill hear Joshs car drive up, and the door slam, and before I can finish the thought, I know its not him. Same with hearing the key unlock the door. A few months ago, I saw a silver Scion that looked exactly like Davids silver Scion, at Home Depot. In a millisecond, both thoughts combined in my head at the same time: Why is David at Home Depot/Oh, yeah, he died. Im not quite sure what to write to end this essay, so Ill just end with this: Oh, man Im thirsty, Ima get a Pepsi and fix some stairs!!
Posted on: Mon, 19 May 2014 23:40:10 +0000
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