Comatose

I've never really been in a situation where I've spoken to someone without them speaking back to me. Even as a public speaker, I appreciate and welcome an interactive audience. I've never really understood how people could stand next to someone that was in a coma - or, in some cases - in a coffin and just talk and talk and talk.

 

To be honest, I still don't understand.

 

It isn't that I don't agree with it, it's just that I don't understand.  For instance, my grandmother would insist on "visiting" my Aunt Elisa and grandfather in the crypt/chapel at Holy Rood Cemetery in Woodbury.  She would talk to them for a really long time. My opinion is that, if someone is dead, they don't just stay in the place where their body was laid to rest... You can "talk" to them anytime, anywhere. I believe that they are always with you.

 

But it isn't the same when you've got a loved one in a coma. They're there, but they can't respond. It was extremely difficult for me to sit next to my husband while he was on a ventilator and just talk to him like nothing was going on. What was I supposed to say?

 

Thank God for my best friend, Kristen. (Different Kristen than before... The other is Kristin.) She just went through this type of situation with her grandfather. She is friends with my husband, and she would go in and just talk and talk and talk to him. My husband even responded to her, by raising his hand. I could barely spend 5 minutes by his side because it was so overwhelmingly emotional for me, I would start to choke up after my third sentence. And, honestly, I just didn't know what to say. I had been living in the hospital since he had been admitted... Talking about the change in menu in the café just didn't seem enough.

 

Nothing seemed to be enough.

 

But Kris found stuff to say to him. While I sat in shock, usually crying, in the waiting room, Kris talked to my husband. Many people came to visit and went in to see him, but Kris talked to him the most out of anyone. It took a lot of weight off of my shoulders, and I will be forever grateful for that. I don't know what I would have done without my friend.

 

I can't really explain what it is like to see someone you love with your whole heart and soul, lying in a bed, motionless, with a machine breathing for him. It winds you, really.

 

My sister flew in two days after he was put on the ventilator. (Or was it the next day? Everything is so blurred together...) I felt so much better when Julienne was there. She's a doctor, so she knew all of the medical mumbo-jumbo that they were spitting out at me. Julie could digest it and tell it to me in plain English. She would visit with my husband, too, although she was there more to make sure I didn't completely lose it and that I took care of myself.

 

My mom had a hard time seeing my husband, too. My husband was a big, tough cop and to see him reduced to relying on machines was just... ugh. No words.

 

They tried to take him off of the ventilator three times, all of which failed. I was told that he would need a tracheotomy if they weren't able to take him off by the 14 day mark. I knew that, if my husband came out of the coma to a tracheotomy, he would give up and that would just be it.

 

We were "in the woods" for what seemed like forever. I didn't know if we were going to come out of it together.

 

 

 

The Kidney Dilemma

I knew that my husband's liver was the problem, but didn't know why. I knew that he was going into septic shock, but didn't know why. I knew that he was really sick, but didn't know why. No one seemed to, really. It was frustrating. The first morning we were there, he was given a CT scan with IV contrast-- Something that isn't good for your kidneys. As a matter of fact, it is recommended that an individual wait 48 hours to have it done again. 

Unfortunately, the doctors didn't know what was going on and they needed to do a more thorough CT scan. (If you recall, the idiot in the ER suggested my husband had liver cancer... That's all we were going on at this point.) They needed to do another CT scan immediately.

I will never forget what the Infectious Disease doctor, Dr. Trehan, said: 

   It is better to have a live man with a bad kidney than a dead man with a good kidney.

Kristin was with me when he said this. I was a bit taken aback by what he said, but he was asking me to consent to doing this IV contrast CT scan, and basically put his life at risk. Again. I mean, I had consented to putting him on a ventilator and into a coma earlier in the day. It was yet another punch in the gut.

The two doctors (I can't remember the name of the other one) babbled some medical jargon, which I didn't understand. Kristin looked at me and said, "They need to do this CT scan to see why he is so sick. Sign the papers." So, I signed the papers.

You see, I needed someone to tell me what to do. I needed someone to listen for me and to essentially translate what the doctors were saying into just a couple of words. So, I signed the papers. They had said something about temporary dialysis if needed... I felt as though I gave my husband a death sentence. I was terrified.

Unfortunately, his renal function went up. he swelled up like a balloon. It was horrible. I mean, he was REALLY swollen. They wanted to cut off his wedding ring. Fortunately, Sally told me what to do in order to get his ring off safely. (Watch the video here - AMAZING!)

I was able to get his ring off, but his renal function was far from normal. So, it was yet another obstacle-- first his liver, next his kidneys. It was horrible. HORRIBLE. I can't even describe it to you. I was watching my husband's body shut down, and there was nothing I could do except follow the advice of the doctors-- Most of whom I had never met before.

I wore my husband's ring in hopes that I would be able to give it back to him. I had never wanted to give someone a piece of jewelry so bad in my entire life. It was just... heartbreaking. I am not used to feeling helpless, and there was just nothing that I could do except wait, pray and hope.

A Little Advice About support

It really amazes me how many people stood by my side during this whole ordeal. The most support came from the moms at my kids' Catholic school (Our Lady Queen of Apostles in Center Moriches), and the people that work with my talent management company, Cain Casting & Talent Management. We also got a LOT of support from the two departments that my husband works for as a Park Ranger. It was amazing, really. SO many people reached out to me, it was overwhelming. SO many people were there for me, I didn't have to worry about anything.

 

My biggest support, of course, was my mother. She took care of my kids when I couldn't. She was here for me this entire time. So was my grandmother, who was incredibly worried about my husband. And my neighbors, who brought groceries over and helped with my kids. The list just goes on and on.

 

What shocked me was the lack of support we received from certain people. One group of individuals - whom we hadn't spoken with in over 3 years - used this as an excuse to gain sympathy from others, as well as cause a lot of drama and grief for me while I was going through this whole situation. Another individual - whom I have known for over two decades - was absent altogether. I noticed that in situations like this, the good people rise to the top and the ones you don't need just float away.

 

Then there are the others that try to make you sink and drown. However, I'm not going to address those individuals in this blog at all. They know who they are, and they know that they don't fit in my life - or the lives of my husband or children - anymore.

 

Now, don't get me wrong-- I'm not complaining in the least. But, I am going to give you some advice if you ever find yourself in a situation where someone you know is in a position such as mine: Reach out to that person. It doesn't matter how well you know them-- I had people sending me cards that I didn't even know. I had people coming to the hospital that I had only spoken over the phone with.-- Reach out to that person. You have no idea how much the support is needed.

 

The excuse of "I didn't know what to say" is utter bullshit. Here are some things that you can drop as a text or FaceBook message that will mean the world to that person:

 

• Thinking of you.
• You're in my prayers.
• Need anything?
• Hope things are getting better.
• Praying for you.
• xoxo
• <3

You get the idea. Little messages like that got me through my days. Was I overwhelmed? Absolutely. I still am. But the support of others carried me through it all-- Especially the really tough times.  I needed people that I didn't know that I needed. I needed support, even though people say I'm one of the strongest, toughest women they know. It was hard for me to ask for help, and the people that were right there to give it to me made things so much easier.

 

People have said to me how strong I am. I don't think that's true... I'm only as strong as the support that I received from the people that reached out to me. I can't even list everyone, but it really meant the world to me. I have no idea as to how I am going to thank everyone. With the support that I got from my friends, family, acquaintances and strangers, I felt that I could move mountains.

 

I truly feel that I did.

 

 

The Hardest Decision I've Ever Made

My husband was finally moved to the CCU (Coronary Care Unit) of Brookhaven Hospital around 2:30 in the afternoon. I had run home to get my phone charger, and they moved him while I was gone. I didn't find him until 3:00pm, as I went to the ER first. Then I was told that he was "in two," so I went to the second floor and wandered around. A nurse finally found me and helped me find him.

 

He was in the last room of the CCU. I walked in and he was lying on a bed. He was talking to me, asking me about my casting company, work, and other mundane things. He was sweating profusely and breathing rapidly, but he was a lot calmer than when he was in the ER. I plugged my phone into the wall and set up to be with him for a while. I expected a doctor or two to come in and tell us what was going on. At this point, remember, we were under the impression that he had cancer and masses on his liver.

 

No sooner did I sit down than did a nurse walk in. "You have a phone call, Mrs. Cain," she said. I was puzzled. I looked at my husband and he shrugged.

 

"I do?"

 

"Yes," she replied. "You can take it at the nurse's station."  I walked out of the room, and didn't notice that two nurses walked into my husband's room. I found out they were in there later.

 

I sat down at the nurse's station. Another nurse was to my left and handed me the phone.  "Hello?"

 

"Hi, Mrs. Cain," a familiar voice said. "It's Dr. Bohenski."  Dr. Bohenski is my son's pulmonologist. I knew I recognized the voice, but didn't understand why he was calling me.

 

"Hi Dr. Bohenski," I replied. "How are you?"

 

"I'm fine," he answered. "I'm not going to ask how you are, since I already know the answer to that. I'm going to make this brief, because time is of the essence. We do not expect your husband to make it through the night. We fully expect him to stop breathing, and we need to put him on a respirator."

 

Bells started ringing in my ears. I felt instantly dizzy and nauseous. I started shaking. What? My husband was going to die? I was just talking to him! How was that even possible?

 

"Wh-what?" I stuttered.

 

"Your husband isn't going to make it through the night. We fully expect him to stop breathing. He is in septic shock and his organs are starting to shut down. We need to put him on a respirator now in order to save his life." Dr. Bohenski was very matter of fact.

 

"This is the only way?" My voice was weak. I wanted to vomit.

 

"This is the only way," he replied. "He will be in an induced coma. He will be asleep so that we can fix what is wrong. He is in very critical condition right now."

 

A million thoughts ran through my mind, most of which were of our six year old twins. How was this possible? I was just talking to him! He was asking me about my clients, for crying out loud! How could this happen? He was going to die?

 

"Okay," I replied. "Do what you need to do. Please take care of him."

 

"I will take care of him like he is my own son," he promised.  Shell-shocked, I put the phone back in the cradle and staggered in to his room. He was lying on his back with an oxygen mask on. The two nurses were standing to his right. I unplugged my phone from the wall and stuck it in my purse. I dropped my purse in the chair to his right and looked at him.

 

I've never seen my husband look so frightened.

 

"Did they tell you?" I asked, trying to control my voice.  He nodded.  "Okay."  I pulled the oxygen mask away from his face and kissed him.

 

I didn't know if it was going to be the last time I was able to kiss my husband. I can't even begin to tell you what that feels like.

 

"I love you very much," I said, starting to cry.  "Goodbye."

 

"I'll see you in a couple of days," he answered.  I kissed him again, then replaced the oxygen mask.

 

"I love you." The tears started to roll down my cheeks. Sobs hitched in my throat. I pulled my phone out of my purse and started texting the last person that texted me:

 

I NEED YOU HERE

GET HERE

PLEASE

I NEED SOMEONE HERE

PLEASE COME

PLEASE

 

I didn't even know who it was. I went into the waiting room and collapsed in hysterics by myself. Alone. Thinking my husband was going to die.

 

It is the worst feeling that I have ever felt in my life. I can only explain it by saying it was like being at the bottom of a cavern, in the dark, alone with no lights. My sobs echoed in my head.

 

At some point, a doctor came in for me to sign the consent form. I don't remember much about that.

 

I just sat and cried. I have never felt so utterly helpless.

 

I soon felt an arm around me. I looked up and it was my friend, Kristin. I didn't even tell her what was going on-- I just leaned on her and cried. I couldn't even explain what was going on. I couldn't form words.

 

What simply amazes me is that Kristin and I were never close before. Our kids go to the same school, but we've never had a play date or anything like that. We've worked together on projects at school, her kids are a part of my casting company, our daughters are in the Daisy troop that I lead...But we've never hung out.

 

She just happened to be the person that sent me that last text.

 

And she came.

 

I don't know how many people would do that, unless they were close with the person asking them to come to the hospital. I honestly don't even remember what we had been texting about beforehand. I know that I would have shown up, regardless of who texted me. But I don't think that anyone else would have-- Especially someone with two small children.

 

Kristin is my hero.

 

I wasn't close with her before, but now I can't imagine my life without her or her family. I can't even begin to express to you what a rock she was for me, especially that day. Once my husband was on the respirator and in the coma, she somehow managed to get me to the diner across the street to get something to eat. I vaguely remember sitting across from her and eating something Greek (although I do remember her specifically getting a French Dip), but that's about it. I don't remember how long she stayed with me, but I know it was well into the night.

 

Back in 2000, I had to tell my sister that our Aunt was killed in a car crash. I remember thinking that was the hardest thing I ever had to do; the worst moment of my life. July 16, 2014 beats that day without a second thought.  If it weren't for Kristin, I would have had to face it alone.

 

Kristin, you are my hero. I love you and appreciate you more than you will ever, ever know.

FaceBook At Its Finest

Once I arrived at the hospital, I kicked everyone around my husband's bed in the emergency room out-- including my mother. Security told me that only one person could be there, and that person was going to be me. They both left. My mother went to pick up my twins at camp.

 About 10 minutes after I arrived, an ultrasound technician came in with an ultrasound machine and started scanning his organs. She was measuring the sizes of things on his organs. I saw the words "liver," "kidney" and others, but I didn't know what she was looking for. I imagined it was masses. 

Suddenly, my phone started ringing. It was someone from my husband's job. I declined the call. A minute later, someone else called. Again, I declined the call. Thirty seconds later, someone else called me. I texted the first person that I would call him back in a few. He told me that I needed to call him back immediately.

I stepped out of the room and called him.  "Candy," he said, "It's all over town. Everyone knows."

My heart dropped into my feet. My husband was a private person. I hadn't told many people-- It was barely 11am. He proceeded to tell me that someone posted it on FaceBook, using my husband's name (which I will never use on FB, in this blog or anywhere else online), and everyone knew about it. I started getting a flood of emails, text messages, FaceBook messages and phone calls soon thereafter.

I was shocked. Not only was it posted on FaceBook, but incorrect information was posted. That's why I directed people to ask my dear friend Sally what was going on. I only gave Sally information about what was happening, and she would tell the people that asked her.

Well, so many people were asking Sally for info, that she started a FaceBook page called "Prayers for the Cain Family." I had no idea that she made it until the following morning after she did. Honestly, I can't even tell you about the time sequence of everything-- I don't think Sally made that page until the second or third day of this ordeal, because there was such a messed up game of "Telephone" going on. Sally did it out of the kindness of her heart to help me. (I love you, Sally.)

Unfortunately, the same people were taking the information that Sally was posting and twisting it. After a couple of days of nonsense, I had Sally delete the page. It's a shame, too. It helped me immensely because so many people wanted to find out what was going on and offer their support, and this was a way for me to avoid spending time talking to them.

I never told my husband anything about what was going on with FaceBook and the person that started the shitstorm. He still doesn't know, and he won't know until he is all better. There's a lot that he won't know until he is home and better, as it will stress him out and do more damage than good.

I thought I was doing good by telling certain people what was wrong with my husband and what we were going through-- More specifically, what he was going through. It came back to bite me in the ass because, frankly, some people are just self-serving, evil individuals. Some people thrive on sympathy they receive when someone that is perceived as close to them gets sick or dies. It's disgusting and inappropriate.

And that is all I have to say about that.

The Flood

I'm sure you've heard the phrase, "When it rains, it pours." Well, we had a flood.

Quite literally.

After about an hour and a half of me closing my eyes, I was awakened by pounding footsteps and a door opening and closing, over and over again. Bleary-eyed, I crawled out of bed and trudged halfway down the stairs. It was the same noise over and over again...

Thud.

bang-bang-bang-bang-bang

stomp-stomp-stomp

Creak.

Slam.

stomp-stom-stomp....

You get the idea. As I stood in the middle of the staircase leading upstairs, I watched my mother walk down the hallway with a bucket, throw water from it over the railing outside, and walk toward the basement.

"Ma!" I called as I walked down the rest of the steps. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. Just go back to sleep," she replied, not straying from her course. I followed her to the top of the basement stairs.

"What happened?" The wet-vac was taken apart and everything smelled moldy and musty.

"We have a little flood in the basement. I'll take care of it." She started down the stairs and I followed. As she dipped the bucket into the water, I noticed that we had six inches of standing water.

I couldn't believe it. Of course, my husband was in the hospital, and I didn't have anyone to help me. I told my mom to go to the hospital to be with my husband and I would call Joe and Shannon, two very close friends of mine that work with my company, Cain Casting & Talent Management. Joe is also an EMT, so I knew he would be prepared for a flood like this.

I picked up the phone to call Joe. When he answered, I lost it. I sobbed that he needed to come over because my husband was in the hospital and we had a flood and bring a pump and on and on and on. I think all he said was "Okay, I'll be right there."

I just sat and cried. It was a couple of minutes after 9am, and the whole cancer thing was hitting me. I had a little more than an hour of sleep, and that hit me, too. I didn't know what to do. I went upstairs, got dressed, brushed my teeth, combed my hair and went back downstairs. Joe and Shannon were already at the door. I showed them the flood.

The big problem was that we had a lot of power cords and outlets under water. The water had to be bailed from the steps, rather than being able to go into the basement and do it. Joe told me that he would handle it. I explained to Shannon what was going on, and made some phone calls that had to be made about my husband. I instructed everyone not to go to the hospital, and I would call if I needed people to go to the hospital. I was very, very specific. I called one of the guys at work to let them know what was going on, and to see if there was anything else I had to do in order to make sure that my husband didn't have issues at work.

That took maybe 20 minutes. After, I sat on the couch with Shannon and told her how angry I was. Joe was still pumping the water out of the basement. My text went off, and my mother texted me that someone showed up at the hospital-- someone my husband hadn't talked with in about 4 years and made crystal clear to me that he didn't want to see.

I told Joe and Shannon that I needed to leave. Joe had gotten nearly all of the water pumped out of the basement, and packed the pump up. The three of us left the house-- They went home and I flew to the hospital.

That flood had been cleared up without issue (although we lost a LOT of our belongings that were kept in the basement, including some of my kids' toys), but - unbeknownst to me - a bigger, figurative flood was right around the corner.

The Cancer Scare

I don't know what it is about Emergency Room doctors on the graveyard shift, but they suck. I apologize for sweeping generalizations, but they do. I mean, I nearly died in the BMH emergency room a few weeks back when I was in anaphylaxis for an allergic reaction, and I was told that I wasn't having an allergic reaction. I know the hours suck-- I've worked overnight before. My husband worked midnights for YEARS. But, seriously, get your shit together and don't take your dislike of your shift out on the patients. (Again, this might not be the case for all night shift ER doctors, but it has been for every freaking one I've ever run into.)

So, my husband had been laying in a bed for an hour before they told me that they expected he had a pulmonary embolism and needed a CT scan. They wheeled him away at 2am, gave him the intravenous dye and did the CT scan. While he was getting the scan done, I called his job and told him that he wouldn't be in for Thursday or Friday. He was wheeled back to the little area they had him (bed #19) at about 2:30, and we waited for the results.

At 3:15am, the ER doctor arrived with results. "I have some good news," he said. "You don't have a pulmonary embolism. However, we were able to see part of your liver, and there are a couple of masses on them. They might be cancerous. I'll be right back." And then he left.

I'm not kidding or exaggerating. That's what happened. He dropped the C-Bomb and took off before I could even say, "What?????"  He just left.

After disbelief, rage was the next emotion that hit me. I was furious at my husband. He is 43 years old, and he has effing CANCER????? How did he not go to the doctor earlier? I remember exactly what I said to him...

"You are stubborn, stupid and selfish. If you went to the doctor sooner, we wouldn't be in this situation. How am I supposed to explain this to the kids? I am PISSED at you!"

And then I paced. I paced for hours. Literally. I walked from the foot of his bed to the nurse's station and back. I think I wore a track in the floor. So many thoughts were going through my mind, especially since something similar happened to a friend of mine. My friend's brother wasn't feeling well for weeks. He finally went to the hospital and, long story short, they found out that he has STAGE THREE colon cancer. Oh, by the way, he is only 34 years old.

As you can imagine, thoughts were running wild through my head. What kind of cancer is it? All of the body's blood filters through the liver, so it could have been anything. How far along is he? What stage is he in? Is he going to die? How long do we have to prepare? Is our life insurance paid up? How am I going to tell the kids? What are we going to do?

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I let rage consume me, since it was a lit easier than grief. He had his eyes closed, but I shot him dirty looks every time I laid eyes on him. I was livid. I was furious with the doctor for dropping the bomb like that. I asked to speak with him again, but he was "busy."

I saw him sitting at his desk, and he was "busy."  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, but he was "busy." I wanted to stab this frigging doctor. I had so many questions and he wouldn't come to me to answer them. He didn't come over to me for HOURS, while my husband shuddered and sweat in his hospital bed, waiting for the next steps.

The secretary told me at 5:45 that he was going to be admitted. I demanded to see the doctor and threatened to walk over to him. He reluctantly walked over to me.

To be completely honest with you, that was a week ago and I can't remember what I asked him. He kept telling me that someone from Oncology would speak with me, and he couldn't give me any answers. I asked him a lot of questions, and he said that they were questions for the oncologist-- literally every question was answered like that. I think the only thing he confirmed was that he was going to be admitted.

That's it. That's all I had.

By 6:45, I was absolutely exhausted. I was drained. I could barely keep my eyes open. I knew that he was sleeping. I woke him up and told him that I needed to get a couple of hours of sleep, and would be back. I kissed his sweaty forehead and left.

We live about 7 minutes from the hospital, give or take the traffic lights. I got home at about 7:00 and jumped online to let those closest to me know what was going on. The kids were waking up for camp, so I got them ready, gave them breakfast, and didn't mention anything about Daddy. I think they thought he left for work. our kids are 6, so they really didn't need to know anything at that moment-- Especially anything about cancer.

My mother left with the kids at 8am. I slipped into my bed and closed my eyes.