Friday morning, March 10, 2006, I went to the hospital very early with Karen’s mother and brother to meet with the surgeon. Along with telling us what he had already told me, he added that rarely does a surgeon see anyone in Karen’s condition during an operation. That usually happened during an autopsy.
After the meeting, before we went to see Karen, we talked about what would happen after Karen died. I told her family about sharing the ashes. Her mother thought that was a good idea. I also told her family that I didn’t have the money to take of the cost of the cremation. They assured me that I didn’t have to worry. They would take of that. I knew Karen’s mother had a life insurance policy for Karen.
When we went into Karen’s room, Stacy advised us that Karen’s condition had worsened dramatically overnight. She was in a coma. Her blood pressure was dropping. The medication to elevate her blood pressure also elevated her heart rate to a dangerous level, over 140 beats per minute. If Stacy continued to give her the medication, Karen would have a heart attack. At that point we decided it would be best for her mother to sign a “Do Not Resuscitate” form. Karen’s family had to make the decisions because Karen and I had never taken the time to fill out Health Care Surrogate Forms. Had I been her husband, those forms would not have been necessary. Nor would they have been necessary had we been allowed to legally marry. The possibility that she might have days to live was gone. It quickly become a matter of hours.
Her family dropped me off at my home. I called a few places to find out what it would cost to have Karen’s body cremated and share the ashes. I then called Karen’s mother to let her know. She and Karen’s brother went to take care of the final arrangements. I also called Roberta and Father Bill; both had been part of Karen and my Holy Union Ceremony. I talked to Roberta and left a voice message for Father Bill. A few hours later, I went back to the hospital. My mother decided to go with me because she hadn’t seen Karen. Roberta met us at the hospital because she wanted to say goodbye to Karen. When we walked into the room, my mother cried as soon as she saw Karen. Father Bill called and said he would be there as soon as he could to administer the Last Rites.
Father Bill arrived at the hospital before Karen’s family returned. He could not stay long because he had to work.
“This is so hard” he said as his tears fell. “Usually we get a call that someone we don’t know needs the Last Rites. But this is Karen of Karen and Patty.”
I put my head on Roberta’s shoulder, unable hold back the tears, as Father Bill continued. There were a few times when I was able to regain a bit of my composure, but not completely until he was finished. Karen’s condition continued to deteriorate. Both Father Bill and Roberta had to leave. My mother and I had some time alone with Karen. During those moments, I talked to Karen.
“I know you have to go. I know you’re Dad is waiting for you with his hand stretched out and you have to take his hand. It’s okay, Karen. I love you and I always will.”
Her mother and brother returned to the hospital around 1:20 PM. The doctor walked in the room and spoke with us. He said that it was time to remove Karen from the ventilator and withdraw all medications because keeping her alive was not fair to her. Although her family had the responsibility of making that decision, they included me. We decided to follow the doctor’s advice, and Karen had told me more than once that she didn’t want to be kept alive by machines. The machines wouldn’t have been enough to keep her alive for long because of the problem with her blood pressure. My mother and I left the room first so that Karen’s mother and brother could have some time alone with her.
We all went to the waiting room while the hospital staff removed the ventilator and intravenous lines. Karen was given oxygen by mask and enough morphine to keep her comfortable. From the time we walked back into her room at around 1:45 PM until after she had taken her last breath and her heart beat for the last time at 2:20 PM, I held her left hand with my left hand while keeping my right hand under her neck. She was very hot and sweating. No one spoke. I kept thinking, “It’s okay to go now, Karen.” as I watched the monitor.
Her heart rate was still very rapid at 140 beats per minute. Her blood pressure started dropping. Her respiration per minute decreased until she stopped breathing. Once her breathing stopped, her heart rate began a roller coaster ride of decreases followed by increases for what seemed like several minutes. … 140 … 125 … 113 … 97 … 80 … 125 … 100 … 75 … 112 … 85 … erratic lines on the monitor … I had never watched anyone die. I never realized how the heart fights to stay alive for as long as it can.
After the heart rate monitor flat-lined, I looked at Karen’s mother and said softly, “She’s gone.”
We stayed in the room for a few more minutes. I still hadn’t let go of her hand. Karen’s brother thought it best if we all left the room. I remember watching him walk out the door with his mother and my mother. I rested my head on my outstretched arm and cried. I didn’t know he had come back into the room. I felt his hands on my shoulders. I turned and hugged him.
“I really loved her.” I said through my tears.
“I know you did.”
We walked out of her room. I called my sister to let her know that Karen had passed away. That was not a call I expected to make just four years, five months and ten days after Karen had moved in with me. All the time she was in the hospital, we both kept saying that five years was not enough. But ultimately, those years were all we had.
I went back into Karen’s room several minutes later with the nurse to get Karen’s things. She was still in the same position. But the mask had been removed. Her skin was yellow and cool to the touch. Her mouth was slightly open. I kissed her lips for the last time and then looked at her arm and hand. I am not sure why I did that. I think I hoped that somehow she would wake up or at least move, but she didn’t.
The one thing I didn’t bring home from the hospital was Karen’s wedding band. The ring had either slipped off her finger or had been removed before the surgery and was lost. I walked out of that room knowing I would never see her again. Our journey and life together had ended much too soon and much too quickly.
Moderately liberal, liberally moderate, American flag waving Democrat! Bachelor of Arts in History with concentration in Early American History and Abraham Lincoln
Graduate student pursuing a Master of Arts Degree online in American History at Southern New Hampshire University