Realizing How Very Critically Ill Bobby Was 3 Years Ago, 12.12.10

Yesterday had been a very long day.  Didn't sleep well the night before.  Laid on my side, watching Bobby fitfully sleep, listening to his labored breathing, watching the rise and fall of his belly, swollen by the ascities. I put my hand on his head and gently rubbed it. I prayed to God about him and his frail health that seemed to be deteriorating way too quickly. I was not ready to lose him yet. In fact, Bobby and I had just had that "serious life and death conversation" a few days previously.  He knew the end was approaching, but with his ever optimistic attitude, he tried to comfort me and assure me that he would be around for at least a couple more years. I knew differently.  But at that point, on that night, I really thought we had a couple of more months with him. Little did I know that would be the last lucid serous conversation we would ever had...

Morning came and as I hurried to get ready for work and tried to get Bobby comfortable for the day, with everything he would need, it became apparent to me that something wasn't quite right with Bobby. His conversations didn't make sense. His mind was not right. Something had to be done. He had to be made to go to the doctor. I couldn't take any more excuses from him.  But, I knew I would need help.

I called two people very close to him (daughter, Sylvia and sister, Mary) and asked if they could come sit with him.  I couldn't leave him alone, but yet, I needed to go into my work and explain that I was going to need some time off to care for him.  I also had to reach Bobby's doctor for immediate assistance with him.

While Mary & Sylvia were en route to our house, I drove on into work. My first call was to the doctor, where I spoke with Donna, Dr. Ramey's PA. She got very excited when I identified myself.  Her voice was quite anxious.  It seems she had been trying frantically to reach Bobby, because he had an appointment at their office that morning and had not showed up. His blood test results had come in and she said they were not good and that Dr. Ramey wanted to see him immediately. When I stated that I wasn't even aware of the appointment and how told her hard I had been trying to get him to the hospital over the past few days to have the fluid drained and that his mental state was quite odd, she put me on hold. A minute later, she returned to the phone with these words, "Go get him and take him straight to the Emergency Room at St. Vincent's Hospital.  Dr. Ramey will meet you there later." She then told me the mental confusion was due to an excess of ammonia in his brain. And no matter how hard he fought me, I had to get him to the hospital right away. I told her that his daughter and sister were with him and they would help me.

I hung up the phone, lowered my head momentarily, to absorb all that was happening. Tears came and they flowed down my face. The sweet, kind people I worked with hugged me and told me to go.  I remember mumbling something about not knowing when I would be back.

I had spoken to either Sylvia or Mary on the phone, while driving back home, to alert them that we needed to get him to the hospital, right away.  I felt a little relief in knowing that they would be the ones to tell him he was going to the hospital. He did not want to go to the hospital and was surely going to resist any effort to make him go. I thought maybe he would give less grumbling about it to his daughter and sister than to me. I expected the three of them to be all ready, when I drove up. Not so. Upon asking how he handled the news of going to the hospital, they looked at each other and then sheepishly looked at me and said, "He doesn't know.  We waited for you to tell him." (Thanks!)

As I would slide one slipper on his foot and reach for the other, he would kick off the one I had just put on. I put one arm into his bathrobe and before I could get the other arm ready, he had already taken the first arm out. Bobby was not going to make it physically easy to get him out the door.  The walk from the house to the van door seemed like it would never end. Bobby could only take very small steps. We held him on each side and continued to make our way to the van. Arguing the whole way that he wasn't going to the hospital, we finally got him in the seat and buckled in.

At that point, I thought I was exhausted.  If I had only known that I was just getting prepared to really learn the meaning of exhaustion over the next few days. And if I had only known, that would be the last car ride we would ever take together...

The Emergency Room visit was a blur. Getting Bobby settled to the point when he finally realized, he was at the hospital and he would be able to get some relief when the fluid was drained from his belly, he calmed down. Hours passed, we waited, more hours passed and we waited more. The blur of the ER visit ended for me abruptly, as I was told he was being transferred to a room.  I am sure I mumbled something about when were they going to drain him and what room number was he going to.  The nurse looked at me and realized no one must have been keeping me informed.  She gently told me that it was far too dangerous to drain the fluid until his vital signs stabilized.  His blood pressure was 60/40 when we arrived and he was not going to a regular room, the bed was in ICU.

We got Bobby moved into the ICU room. I looked up from my chair and Dr. Ramey walked into the room. He did not have to say a word. I knew, at that moment, from his grim face, that Bobby would likely not recover. I just didn't know how very short the time would be.

I spent the next few hours by his side. I talked to him.  I held his hands. I touched his face. I tried to keep him calm, but he was agitated and was moving his arms way too much for all the tubes on him. It was all I could do to hold his arms down. The nurse indicated that since it looked like it was going to be a long night with him, that she was going to move her operation base into his room, so she would be right there with him, if he needed anything.  It was around midnight. She also said I should go home and get some sleep.  I resisted, but eventually she succeeded in convincing me to go home and get some rest.

I didn't want to leave the hospital.  But I did. I kissed his lips, unsure if he even knew I had kissed him. I told him I loved him.and then I then left the hospital and drove home. How I wish I hadn't left the hospital late that night. If I had only known that Bobby was going to take a turn for the worse, shortly after I left.... I would never have left his side. Never, never...                  

But as I look back three years later, I believe perhaps God's guiding hand was at work, in orchestrating my leaving the hospital. Maybe God protected me from being there and seeing that moment when Bobby's vital signs went crazy and he had to be put on a respirator. It would have been a difficult thing to watch. How comforting to know how my Heavenly Father watched out for me and shielded me from witnessing a picture that would never have left my mind. That moment would have been forever frozen along with my pain and grief. Thank you God for your protection and your love for me. You are my sustain-er..