Tag Archives: Death

A Series of Traumatic Events

Posted by Delightfully Doable on 14 April, 2014 None comments

I sit here stoic and beyond tired. I don’t even know which day of the week it is and when everything really began. My body has reached its limit. I’ve tried to make it through the day with yet another night of no sleep; praying for a calm in the large storm we have been encapsulated by.

Three days ago we went into Randall’s Children’s Hospital here in Portland, OR. My son was supposedly sick with pneumonia and an ear infection and had a fever for 4 days. Mind you, he is 21 months old and a fever that long is dangerous.

Walking around the house realizing I couldn’t master any tasks as the wee-little one only wanted to be held and rest his head upon my chest. My husband took the day off due to his mom passing and was trying to occupy his mind while doing yard work. Realizing the inconsistencies in my little man and the little fluid and food he had drank made me wonder if his diagnosis was accurate. Calling his pediatrician the advice nurse immediately sent us to the ER at the Children’s hospital. She asked if he was coughing while I explained that was him simply breathing; he had very labored breathing. This concern was so high off the charts that she didn’t want us to waste any time but to head directly there. Tears flowing from my eyes as I look at my sad, tired, helpless baby, I expressed great concern to my husband.

As we traveled to the hospital, his eyes struggled to stay open and not because he was trying not to sleep but simply because his sickness was taking him over. We reach the ER and all of a sudden 7 hours passed by and I’m wondering what just happened. It was so quick, yet so painfully long. The questions posing of what is happening, why is wouldn’t perk up, what’s wrong with his heart, why is his breathing so labored, does he have pneumonia or an ear infection? The questions swarmed around my husband and I as if we had just landed the worlds largest bee hive being stung in thousands of places.

The doctor brought to our attention that we would be staying over night and probably be here for a few days. The anxiety welled up inside my being filling every inch of my body. I see my son go through rounds of coughing that would lead him to stop breathing for what felt like minutes at a time. His eyes would water, face swell and the redness would turn to bright it almost turned blue. The fear was colored all over my face. Looking helpless at my husband we yearned for his next breath. He couldn’t inhale; he would begin the exhale of another coughing round only leading him to not inhale once again. Same routine, red face, watering eyes, and a helpless look that pour from his eyes begging for us to take it away. It was as if he could speak so clearly through his eyes leaving me feeling utterly helpless and broken.

The doctors hated that his breathing wasn’t picking up and searched for more answers than dehydration. Strangling his little mummy wrapped body the nurse fetched for a vain to place the IV and a board to tape to his arm to so he wouldn’t be able to rip it out. Now with the use of only one hand this poor child became more agitated. They pricked the same arm for 4 tubes of blood. They ordered an EKG and more blood work, vacuuming out his nose for more culture testing’s; the trauma simply wouldn’t end.

Finally they stopped the fluids as his progression only kept getting worse. The concern now was the fluid filling up around his heart and in his lungs. What does a mom and dad do when you see your helpless babe worthless and lifeless? Being a parent you long to make things better, change the circumstances, bring hope, comfort and security. All was lost. We were unable to provide this even though the deepest parts of our soul longed to run away from the hospital, detaching every tube and wire connected to his body keeping him held hostage.

The night progressed and only got worse. A mother’s nightmare kept proceeding to never wake me up but to only find myself further in the pit. We lay him to rest on our chests while bouncing him was the only thing he wanted. He clenched tightly to us wrapping his legs around as if he never wanted to be let go. The continuation of pricking and prodding never came to a stop. His tired body was beyond traumatized that sleep could not set in. He awoke an hour later to only begin his hallucinations. The scariest things I’ve ever experienced. It was an out of body experience. We would thrash around, falling, banging his head and chin upon the prison crib, writhing in pain with blood curdling screams. His eyes were open but he wasn’t conscious. It was as if he could not see or hear you. His eyes were lifeless. This event was the first of the night with many more to follow. It was beyond scary, nothing we could do, we couldn’t leave the room, unplug the cords, or simply let him know it was going to be okay.

He fell asleep for 30 minutes to be woken up by monitors beeping loudly. His oxygen had sunk, nurses and doctors all rush to his aid while we watch them attach oxygen tubes to his little face. Yet another wire for this poor baby. Unable to tell us why this has happened the concern only deepens. Within the hours the second bought of hallucinations came only to worsen immensely. I began a slight panic attack in the midst of not being able to calm him down, his IV ripped from his hands, blood tossed to and fro. My face covered with pools of blood. It looked like a murder scene. Paging the nurse, they came to finally allow all the wires to rest for a few minutes while I took him up and down the hall wearing a small child’s mask to keep from spreading whatever it was he had.

Attempting to eat a couple goldfish and drink a couple sips

At this point I begged them not to put the IV back in until morning and they obliged. Sending Michael home at three in the morning knowing I needed one of us to be sane as my sanity had already left hours prior. Looking at beautiful downtown Portland with all the lights, Cooper became a little more content, no wires, no IV, no oxygen and just his mommy to hold him dear. He drank a couple sips of apple juice and ate a couple of goldfish. This was a milestone. I let him sit there with me for two hours to simply get an ounce down of fluid and a little food to nourish his body. By 5:10 in the morning, I laid him by my side to rest. We slept until 7:25.

Michael called at 8 to check in. He brought coffee, clothes, toothbrush and the bare necessities. By 9 am another hallucination took place. My anger deepened as it only got worse. My son longing to leave this prison and not understanding why we were leaving him there and not protecting him was all unknown in his little mind. The unexplained feelings a parents battles when you know the hospital is the safest place for him, yet the continuation of traumatic events is a lose-lose situation.

Yet again begging for release we were able to walk him outside because his outbursts were so horrific nothing would calm him down and he began to endanger himself. We walked outside, his thoroughly exhausted body was helpless. Yearning to dump fluids in him knowing this was our only escape; he kept refusing. Finally, we approached the 6th floor yet again, a new doctor arrives explaining all this tests came back clear, his heart looks to be okay. Everything must be related to a severe viral infection, pneumonia and sever dehydration. We hoped this diagnosis was 100% accurate as leaving was a whole new realm of scary. We wanted out of this traumatic place, but we also wanted to leave knowing he would be okay.

Finally being released at 3pm, we head home with our exhausted, traumatized child. The questions filled my soul: “will he be okay, can I keep him hydrated, will his oxygen remain stable…?” These were all real questions with only time to tell.

This experience was so horrific that my only prayer was begging the Lord to allow him to live. I would never wish a parent to ever experience what we went through. I never thought I would pray “just keep him alive, please keep him alive!” for my child. The desperation that seeps in is a whirlwind of emotions.

Part II tomorrow on what the days preceding look like….

Moment of Truth: Reality his our family very hard this week. Losing my mother-in-law and coming close to losing my child. The horrific chain of events was beyond what we could ever imagine. Praying and continuing to pray that we can have a calm in the middle of the storm. Please Lord, let there be an end in sight.

(Read more about The Never-Ending-Roller-Coaster of life)

Please Walk Softly

Posted by Delightfully Doable on 12 April, 2014 None comments

Hello everyone it’s Michael again. I read this while at the hospice care facility and I want to write it out for all the readers of this post because it’s so powerful that you will want to read it over and over again like I did:

Please

Walk softly…

Speak softly…

For here is holy ground.

Your sisters, your brothers.

Your fathers, your mothers.

Your daughters, your sons,

Come here to heal.

Though some call it dying…..

Their families, their friends, and

Those who are blessed to serve here

They too, come here to heal

Though some call it crying …..

All are welcome here.

And those who seek comfort

And those who seek to comfort

Those who seek peace

And those who seek to make peace

Those who seek understanding

And those who seek to offer understanding

Many have left this world

And left their bodies here.

Many have felt pain and anguish

And left their sorrow here.

Many have felt fear…

Many have felt love…

Many have felt bereft and abandoned…

Many have felt held, seen and understood.

All these and more are here.

If you listen quietly

If you listen long enough

You will hear the silence that is here.

The silence that follows your every out-breath.

Before your next in-breath:

The silence which was before you began to breathe

And the silence which will be after your breathing ceases.

This is the silence between your thoughts,

And the silence that speaks through your eyes.

It is the silence of your loving touch.

And the silence of your falling tears.

It is the silence which holds us all, always:

The silence from which we come.

And the silence to which we return.

This silence is quite loud here.

You cannot miss it,

If you will but listen.

Many listen to silence here.

So please,

Walk softly….

Speak softly….

For here is holy ground…

From: John D, Rose

What Mr. Rose wrote makes a person speechless….

Raw Emotions

Posted by Delightfully Doable on 11 April, 2014 1 comments

Many of you know my mother-in-law passed away this last Monday evening. My husband has had quite the journey with her the past three months and decided to be a guest speaker for me while she share the feelings and emotions through losing a loved one. Not only losing a loved one, but someone who was young and a mother, wife, sister, grandma and someone who had years left to live.

My husband is taking this journey with us and sharing the last two weeks of what he has gone through. Please welcome my dear husband Michael!

I am sitting here with the craziest of emotions. Up then down, down then up. I cried and cried and cried yesterday, thinking that my mother was on the cusp of dying within a few hours. I drove home from work to pick Tiffany and Cooper up to head to the pain management care facility for hospice, dreading what we would encounter; a lifeless person without saying goodbye. Lucky for us, she was still with us and without all the pain she had been enduring for days. She was completely sedated and convulsing as we weren’t sure if she was going to make it through another night, let alone hear what we had to say. I finally went into the room and sat down and just sobbed for minutes, telling her I was so sorry for what she is going through, telling her that it’s okay to let go and that there is something better for her outside of her earthy body. I also had a chance to speak with her without any filter and through raw emotion on what thirty year five years of my life meant to me and how she has been a part of it and how she shaped me into who I am today. Although she didn’t know it, she had shaped me in many ways even throughout the past 27 years we hadn’t spoke. I know there has been a couple years of bad history between her and I when she reconnected with me, but through all the pain, I wanted to let her know that I forgave her and that I loved her very much and appreciated the life that she provided me.

Her poor body has been taken over by cancer. She looks ENTIRELY different now than before cancer took over. This shows you how deadly it truly is. :(

What I have today is simply because she gave me life. As of more recent, I have come to a point in understanding what love truly means. I guess I never showed it nor truly spoke love to my mother when we reconnected 5 years ago because as of that night while she laid helpless in the hospital bed with machines connected all over her poor body, she whispered in my ear “I thought you said I am a terrible person.” One of the only things she said to me while her body was shutting down. What a shockwave to think that’s the way she believes I feel about her. Sure I have had my anger outbursts with her, sent abrasive emails and had terrible phone calls. Yes, all out of hurt and anger for so many things that have happened to me over the years. My selfish being got the best of me to the point that I couldn’t see anything further than my hurt and my pain that I have endured. I never chose to see that she had made peace with everything in her life and that there was nothing else she could do after all these years. I finally came to the realization a few weeks ago after an email response she sent me explaining and apologizing for her role in what had happened to me; that she was truly sorry. I heard those words she whispered to me yesterday and realized that she still thought I had this chip on my shoulder towards her and what has transpired, yet I felt quite the opposite about her and the past. It’s done…. She has gone through enough in her life and has earned the respect of everyone she now encounters. She deserves the peace and happiness that we all seek in life, the unfortunate thing for me, is that it took her dying to realize what that meant and why each one of us are a blessing and can do so much for one another. It’s a breath of fresh air, it’s that feeling you have towards your loved ones and it’s your life itself. She needs to know my love for her and respect for her apart from the mistakes we ALL make in life. We need to step back for a moment and reflect on times like these and simply be thankful for one another because that’s all we have; one another. In a quick blink of an eye, you may never have that opportunity again, live your life to the fullest, loving and caring for the relationships that surround you.

If anything, her death has and will continue to change my life and change me for the good. If I don’t let this happen, I am simply taking her name in vein. We must step up and do something with the relationships that surround us for them to mean anything. Don’t waste your life.

Tomorrow I will be sharing a poem that struck me to the core while at hospice watching my mother helpless in bed. A poem that meant so much to me and taught me how to slow down. Soak in the moment that we have without all the questions and “what ifs.” Please join me again tomorrow as I continue to share a little bit about what I am learning through the death of my second parent. It’s a journey alright, and one I am willing to share!

The Loss of a Loved One

Posted by Delightfully Doable on 10 April, 2014 None comments

My mother-in-law passed away this past Monday at 5:05 pm at the ripe age of 60. The phone call I dreaded for months that was about to hit, finally hit and hit hard. The reality that you simply can’t prepare to lose someone is a cold, slap in the face. I wasn’t too sure what to expect and how it all would unfold and unfortunately, I became the bearer of bad news. I was the one responsible to tell my husband and I was the one responsible on deciding when it would be best to deliver this news.

Being the keeper of this knowledge for almost 2 hours before he got home was extremely painful. I kept a smile on my face as much as possible for my sweet little son that has no clue what’s going on except a lot of crying from mommy and daddy the past five days….and now this! He is incredible but unfortunately he knows something is wrong but can’t express it; sweet child.

At the hospital trying to entertain my son…

My husband was late from work, walked in the door and I lost it. I apologized over and over for the bad news I was bringing but explained that I didn’t know how else to release it. I was positive a phone call wasn’t going to be good, finding out at work wasn’t a good idea and lastly, I didn’t want him driving after finding out either. The emotions welled up inside him and tears began to flow. My sweet husband had just lost his second parent at the ripe age of 35.

My poor husband!!!

How does one manage these feelings, how do you compartmentalize the sweet sorrow and release of her passing away? Bringing him back to foster care and being a young boy weeping for his mommy when he found out his daddy had passed away is right where he is today. 27 years later weeping and mourning the loss of his father and now his mother. The painful tears steam down his face.

Today he expressed to me the pain he is feeling and the continual reminder of feeling utterly numb just as he did sitting on the top bunk bed while in foster care when his daddy died. The tearful moments that fill his soul randomly and without warning break my heart. Knowing I am helpless and can not take away the pain is excruciatingly hard. These are moments of utter helplessness. Being present and loving on him only goes so far; this is years of pain and lack of relationship that has come to a head. He will never get another moment of time spent with her until he reaches heaven. The reality of this is very sobering. His hard shell has such a tender inside. He has had to learn how to get through life without ANY guidance bringing about that tough outer shell, but when you reach the middle, and rarely people do, he is a tender soul full of gooey emotion. :)

Day two has been difficult and more of a reality than day one. Yesterday we spent the entire day with Marlin, her husband. We were by his side grieving together. It was good for all of us but somehow the days keep ticking by and reality to deal with the pain sets in. How to begin the healing process is entirely different from her husband, sisters, and friends. Everyone in their own way has to deal with the loss her life. But my husband has to deal with the loss her for a second time. The first time he lost her was 27 years ago when placed in foster care, the pain and emotion that stems from that is insurmountable. Then three months ago being brought back into her life to only loose her just over three months later is a painful experience as well. What he had these last three months was incredible but it got torn from him in an instant begging for numerous questions to be answered that never will.

Here we are today and I am trying to hold on to the last moments we shared together as a family knowing a new life is beginning. What that looks like is entirely unknown. There is a whole family out there that we have never known or been apart of. How will this look, will relationships continue? Only time can lead us and guide us in the steps we currently walk. I beg the Lord for healing for my husband; peaceful healing. I also ask for a life that he can pinpoint back to this very moment knowing it changed his life forever and for the good.

Moment of Truth: Our God is powerful and I ask for His will to be done in our lives. I know it is painful, but through the ashes brings beauty. We often can’t learn and grow without trials of this life. I pray for my husband’s soul to be tender towards the Lord and not harness anger and bitterness. Lord, bring an incredible life for my husband to walk knowing where he came from! ~Amen

Never Ending Roller Coaster

Posted by Delightfully Doable on 8 April, 2014 None comments

Just when you think life may have slowed down just for a day, you become utterly wrong. “Why try and make life slow down,” I think to myself. This has been the longest, quickest two years of my marriage. I never knew what I signed up for when life took hold of our family. It’s the continual surprises that tend to wear me down and unfortunately, they are not all good surprises.

As you all know, my mother-in-law who is sick and terminally ill has led this life of a roller coaster with her health and emotions the past three weeks. I don’t think she fully understands it as the days keep ticking away, but her loved ones definitely feel the twist and pull, up and down, side to side, jerk of emotions from good to bad, better to worse and so on and so forth!

Thanks to sourcewire.com

After the storm of last week, I have been yearning for a break in “rain” come today. That happened for the first 3 hours and once I contacted my mother-in-laws husband, I was informed pretty quickly that this roller coaster turned a corner that once again yanked our heads from one side to the next. Hearing the words that her lungs are filling with fluid and her blood pressure is all over the place was definitely discouraging. We have neared the end and simply do not know how to prepare for this particular “slap in the face.” A cold drink of water continues to awake our sleepy eyes.

It seems that this roller coaster of life is never ending and I can vividly see the ground from up above, upside down and one crank to the next keeping us on our toes as much as possible. I finally reached my peak last week, I couldn’t keep it in any longer, my body decided to allow a nasty cold in, keeping me awake at night and coughing through the day. I haven’t been sick in months, yet when my body seems to be so worn, I still fight through them but this cold, this one hit me hard. The emotional battle of trying to be strong for my husband while he loses his mother has been everything but strong for me. I’ve tried but after last week, I hit a wall and have been an emotional basket case since.

I long to help support my husband, but how do you simply give the proper words when there is no changing the past nor the present. The past haunts my husband from childhood to his 35 year old body dreading the phone call of this wretched outcome. 27 years wasted? I don’t think so! I believe from the depths of my soul that everything happens for a reason. It is not always joyful, but God DOES use everything for the good of those who love Him. Through tragedy and pain, my husbands 27 years of non-relation with his mother, was everything but a waste. I believe this wholeheartedly even though it may not make sense right now. The little knowledge we’ve been given has been beneficial. Healing is taking place in some facet or another. My husband is allowing himself to grieve not only losing his mother, but losing her a second time.

The first time, he lost her was when he was put in foster care at age 8. 27 years later, he’s now losing her to cancer. The horrible feeling of losing a parent alone is beyond description, yet this is his second parent. He lost his dad at age 8. I know we all travel this life with a story and we can use our story for glory or for pain.

The roller coaster that simply will NOT end, I pray will be used for God’s glory!

Moment of Truth: My husband is learning more than he can see at this moment in time. This tragedy has mended relationships, opened the door for healing and brought about as much positive influence one can have in a time such as this. I am proud of my husband, he is a tough guy yet so tender on the inside. Crack that shell and you have a pile of mush longing for peace and joy. I pray for that exact thing to be laid upon my husband at this very moment. I love you Michael John!

Life is Short

Posted by Delightfully Doable on 25 March, 2014 None comments

8 weeks ago I met my mother-in-law for the first time. My husband has had no contact with her for roughly 27 years and little did we know that she lived less than a mile away from his previous work location. Through the no communication there has been a lot of emotion and pain that has had to be addressed for my husband. As the years have past he hasn’t actually had to fully deal with it…until now. Back in January my husband received an email from her stating that she has been very ill and doctors informed her she has only 6-9 months left to live. This shocking news struck my husband to the core. He was speechless, lifeless and full of emotion. Immediately responding to her email we headed out to visit her that following weekend.

She had been diagnosed with Esophageal cancer that had been so aggressive it has taken over her entire body. Through this tragedy, we have been getting together with her and her husband for the past 8 weeks allowing Cooper to put smiles on the everyone’s face in the midst of the heartache.

This past Sunday we were headed out for our weekly visit but as we hadn’t heard back from her in a week, we decided something must be wrong. We emailed, called and emailed over and over hoping to let down the anxiety of “what ifs” we held in the pits of our tummies. My parent’s came down specifically to meet her and be a support to my husband in the midst of this heartache. As we pulled up to the house our conversations fizzled instantaneously as we all process an ambulance sitting in the driveway. Immediate fear plagued my husband and I as we slowly approached the doorway where a stretcher sat. We quietly walk in hoping for the scenario to be better than our fear.

There stood 3 gentleman speaking to Marlin, Cathy’s husband while he looked white as a ghost trying to hold his bearings together. Cathy sat in her chair beyond exhausted, breathless and full of pain. That morning she had collapsed to the ground hoping it was from the medication but would not know anything further until she was under surveillance at the hospital. She spoke with us but definitely was so tired and struggling to get many words out. We hugged and kissed her goodbye as they drove off to the hospital.

Little Cooper terrorizing the backseat of our car while my parents tried to entertain him finally came to an end. My parents brought him in and met Marlin. He explained the condition and how the previous week had panned out. We hoped for the best knowing that the ultimate result still remained the same which none of us wanted to address.

24 hours passes and we receive a phone call from Marlin last night giving us our official update. We find out she is progressively getting worse and what happened earlier this week was due to her cancer taking over. My husbands face turned white while the fear plagued his body unsure what words to form next. How do you continue a conversation that has an end result of utter sadness and loss? Both a son and a husband exchanging words about a woman they are about to lose. Watching this play out while I prepared dinner and distracted Cooper was very difficult but knowing I need to be the strong one for the night, I did my best to accomplish this task.

The reality of life is a sad reality. We all come into this world as a helpless babe, while at the end of our life for the most part, brings us full circle back to that same position; a helpless babe! How does one process this reality? Where is the hope for those left behind? The many questions and utter sadness fills the room longing for it to simply be “okay.” Knowing at some point it will be okay, it is still a new normal that will be forced to take place.

My prayer is for those who are left behind is to see the Lord working “all things together for good.” Knowing her fate and feeling confident that the Lord has rescued her and she has a hope to look forward to; perfection with Jesus! The condition of our souls needs to be re-evaluated as we face the reality of death and although most of us want to pretend it doesn’t exist until absolutely necessary, it is a topic that makes people squirm but it’s a good thing to think through asking yourself if this was your last day, do you know where you are going?

Moment of Truth: Life is a challenge in and of itself. Do you live in fear or walk in confidence knowing your life could end at any moment and where your fate lies? Hold tightly to the truth of why we are alive and here on this earth, one purpose; glorify God.