I was up very early and on my way to North Shore Hospital. Driving there,, thinking…” Will Deb wake up today” Will Deb Wake up today, will Deb wake up today?” What’s next? Arriving at the hospital at 8:30 AM, I was back in her cold room.The nurses gave me an overview of the situation and said the neurologist would be in today as well as the cardiologist and the managing physician, who was actually a young resident, since this was a teaching hospital, other younger doctors would also be accompanying the specialists.
Deb was off the respirator but had a tube in her mouth and was getting supplemental oxygen. She was breathing on her own, but was still unconscious. The neurosurgeon had very little to say. He said we were in a very nebulous area with regard to Deb’s condition. “Let’s see where we are tomorrow.” Little did I know, this was a repeating refrain for the days to come.
Now the visitors to the room were Deb’s friends and again I witnessed the shock, sorrow, and fear in their faces; and I answered the same questions repeatedly as they arrived and wanted to know what happened, where it happened, and most importantly to them why it happened. Well, I could answer two out of three. With regard to the last, I had been interrogated with regard to what Deb was ingesting in the form of drugs and the like. There was no real link there. But what I knew was that Deb was under a huge load of stress taking care of her mother Josephine. Jo had been ill for some time having beat Hodgkin’s lymphoma stage 3 over 10 years ago. She was really suffering from immunocological disease and was becoming increasingly frail. Deb also so much disliked her job in the school district and that was taking it’s toll. Our marriage wasn’t exactly going well and I was a big part of the reason. This is just my story on the background, but I am convinced it is a real one. And our children also know.
Deb was a high type “B” personality. She wasn’t built for this type of stress. Her mother was the type of person that was really never satisfied with anything. In short , she was very demanding. And often times she was also very sweet and caring.. but she was dying and she knew it. Debs, sister Diane, seven years her senior, came in from Oregon to assist with the medical issues and to lend support.
Diane has been a nursing professional for 30 years. It was a lift I so desperately needed.
Days were passing and Deb’s condition did not appear to be improving. Tim, Alicia,and Kate were so worried as I was that we weren’t going to get their mother back.
Deb was now moving her right arm in a very strange and peculiar movement. Lying on her back with a that tube in her mouth and wires attached to her upper body, she would raise her straight right arm from her bed slowly up to a 180 degree position and then move bend her hand inward at her wrist with her finger tips and thumb touching each other and then slowly bring it back down. This would occur randomly during the day and night and appeared so primitive (as in primate), it scared me to think that she would be in this vegetative state forever and a day. The neurologist that visited everyday was explaining that this type of movement was not a particularly good sign as far as her brain function was concerned. I did not want to keep hearing this, so I told him not to come back; please send someone else from your practice. He was just giving his opinion based on experience, but I viewed it as negativity. I was pushing back from the unthinkable possibilities.
During this last week of September 2008, I came to this room in the CICU unit of the hospital everyday. In the evening , around 9 PM, the nurses would tell me to go home and get some sleep. I would leave and go to my musician friend Kenny H,s house and we would play our songs together, I, singing lead or 2 part harmony with him while he played his acoustic Gibson, and me harmonicas. Kenny is one fine musician stuck in the late 60’s 70’s. His hair is down almost to his waist and a thick gray. And he can write songs as well as play. My favorite is “Working all the time.”
Now every day in that hospital room, I would sing every song I knew acapella. This was about 100 songs and lyrics at the time that I knew by heart. I was just hoping that Deb would wake up and tell me to”Shut the ___ up!” The nurses by this time knew I was somewhat insane and would just smile knowingly as they came and went. Beatles, CCR, Neil Young, Carole King, James Taylor, Eagles, Benny King, Tom Petty, Jay and the Americans, and many more. I sang for hours. The week passed and Deb was still in a coma. The kids and I didn’t talk about it too much. We just knew she had to wake up. Family and friends would try to coax her, hold her hand and gently ask her when they came “Deb, c’mon and wake up,wake up.
She was still moving that arm up and down. That was the sign of hope on the edge of despair. I kept myself outwardly positive and inwardly fearful. It had hit me like a flying brick in the forehead, “Life is so precarious”
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