I went to the hospital Thursday morning, March 9, 2006. Karen was in the Intensive Care Unit. She was on a ventilator and her hands were restrained. She was awake but heavily sedated with morphine and dopamine. Every so often she would raise her head slightly, open her eyes wide and look at her mother or me. But for the most part, she just moved her head from side to side while making gagging motions because of the tube in her mouth. I had hoped for some good news that morning. Something other than the reality that I was losing Karen. Of course, that didn’t happen.
Karen’s mother was on one side of the bed and I was on the other side. I held Karen’s hand. I don’t remember whether her mother did. I know that her mother started talking about Karen’s younger sister, Brenda, who lived in another state. Brenda had apparently talked to her mother about visiting Karen.
“You know she wanted to come see Karen, but it really would have been a waste of time because we didn’t know anything for three weeks.”
I was stunned by her words. But I didn’t respond. I just thought, “Lady, she could have spent some time with Karen. They could have talked.”
Karen’s mother and brother, John, gave me a ride home and told me that I could make the decision about Karen’s final arrangements. When Karen had moved down, she was very clear about wanting to be buried back in Massachusetts with her father. But after our Holy Union Ceremony, Karen said that while she still wanted to be buried with her dad, she also wanted to be buried with me. I decided that the best way to honor both her wishes was to have her cremated and share the ashes with her family.
I spoke to my sister after I got back from the hospital. She said, “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
I called one of Karen’s friends, Sue. Sue and Karen worked together twenty-seven years before Karen decided to move from New Hampshire to Florida to be with me. Throughout Karen’s stay in the hospital, I had called Sue to let her know how Karen was doing.
On Thursday evening, I went back to the hospital. I was able to spend some time alone with Karen. I said the most difficult words I had ever said to Karen. “Karen, I know your Dad will come and get you. You don’t have to be afraid. You don’t have to be scared. You won’t be alone.”
I could no longer hold the tears back and cried, for the first time, in Karen’s room as I talked to her. The only person who walked into the room was the nurse, Stacy. She did everything she could to ensure that Karen was not in pain and was treated with dignity. I was, and still am, grateful that she was there during Karen’s last hours. Some of the nurses had been less than kind to Karen. But this woman genuinely cared. Stacy also took time to talk with me. She asked me about Karen’s last months. Was Karen able to eat and did she seem to enjoy what she ate? I said yes. She said to consider it a blessing because if Karen had known months ago that she was dying, she might have given up and died sooner. In my desperation, I asked Stacy whether something could be done to save Karen’s life. But I already knew the answer even before she said no.
Stacy tried to be somewhat optimistic in that she said perhaps Karen would be able to be moved out of the Intensive Care Unit, which would have enabled our friends to visit her. She also said that they might be able to remove the ventilator tube and take Karen of the dopamine so that she could talk and say goodbye to all of us. While I hoped they might be able to remove the ventilator because Karen never liked anything in her throat, I wanted her to remain sedated. I didn’t want her to have to go through the pain of having to say goodbye to anyone. I didn’t have to worry.
A few hours after I left the hospital, I stood outside our apartment, stared into the dark starry night and asked for the one miracle I knew I couldn’t have: that somehow the doctors were wrong and there was a way that Karen could live. “You can do this … You can let the doctor’s find some way to save Karen.” In those quiet moments afterward, I realized that I had already been given a miracle: Karen and her love in my life.
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