This Time Last Year - Part Two

November 10th, 2008...his last full day alive...started out pretty much the same as every day of the previous week or so. I mean, he seemed to get a little sicker each day. But I still went to work (worrying and rushing to get home, of course) and the kids still went to school...with a heavy heart and a lump in their throat, I'm sure. But it was, by all accounts, a routine morning. A routine that had become our normal for weeks.

While I had known in my heart by then that he only had a matter of days left, death didn't seem imminent...not on that morning.

Until about 11:00 AM.

He had experienced some agitation on and off for days. He also slept a lot. And he hadn't eaten anything in at least a couple of days. But I could always seem to calm him down when he got restless. When I would talk to him, he could somewhat focus on me, even if it were only for a minute or two.

But something changed at 11:00 AM last November 10th.

There was no calming him. He was struggling. Physically? Emotionally? Both? I'll never know. All I know is that I couldn't calm him and I got scared. No, scared isn't the word. I got frantic. I tried everything. Pain medicine. Talking to him. Rubbing his hand. More pain medicine. Running my fingers over his hair. Softly playing our wedding song in the background.

But, still, there was no calming him.

So I called for his nurse. I think she was there in less than an hour. But it felt like it took about 5 hours. Even if she couldn't do anything for him, I knew I would feel better to NOT be alone with him. I needed reassurance. I needed her to tell me what to do for him. (What I really needed at that time was a miracle but I knew that would never come.) I needed someone to just be here and take over for a little while. Maybe I just needed her to confirm what I already knew.

I'd never been through anything like that in my life. It was worry, fear, sadness. It was a sense of disbelief that this was really happening. It was absolute torture.

It's indescribable.

It's also what I still see many times when I close my eyes to sleep. It's the one thing I would give anything to forget.

No, I'd never experienced anything like that before in my 37 years. And I hope I never have to again.