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 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.