ohsosad

Does anyone know how old Bentley is?

Steve's blood sugar readings were incredibly high the last month of his life - we got readings in the 3 and 4 hundreds. I read above that infection can cause high readings. I never knew that. Now in hindsight the high readings would have indicated the blood infection that was in his body which killed him within the month. Why didn't the doctors pick up on that when I pressed them about his terrible readings? Despite getting the "best" care, he in fact did not.

I survived the appt. with my lawyer today but cried from the moment I got into the car through the appt. through the trip to the court to file the death certificate through that process and then left. About a half dozen people handed me a box of tissues throughout the ordeal. Then since I was driving Steve's car I stopped at the dealer's where he bought it 2 years ago and told them he had died and I wanted to sell it. More sobbing. More boxes of tissues appeared from nowhere. Everyone was kind to me but I just could not wait to get home and be alone again. I finally stopped sobbing when I walked into the house and was greeted by my family - Emma, a mini pit bull with 3 legs (owner abused), and Morgan, a great pyrennes found as a stray last year. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't get up in the morning or go outside the door. I just took a look at the pet forum and saw Mary is dealing with a major health issue with her precious Bentley, and I extend my condolences to her for that. Steve and I had 15 dogs, most rescued, during our marriage. When each dog died, Steve had a plague made with the dog's picture and a saying that described something about that particular dog. They are all mounted on a wall in the living room. So much loss on that wall, and now Steve is gone too. Loss and sadness. The most recent death was Sam who died on May 1st. Now Steve on June 26th. Loss, loss, loss.

Well, ok. Now I can write. What I had written and was lost was that tomorrow I have an appt. with my lawyer to straighten things out and I dread going. Actually I dread going anywhere these days. I just want to stay home. I drove to the Salvation Army today to give them some of Steve's clothes. That was hard. Alot of crying on that ride. Yesterday they came and took away his dialysis machine - the same guy who delivered it in January. He said, what happened, he's going to the clinic now for his treatments? I had to say, no, he died, and then I just left the room sobbing. Awful. A tree fell on the roof and I got an estimate of $7000 to repair it. The insurance co.'s estimate was $1800. My deductible is $1000. This is the kind of thing I want Steve to help me with but he's gone. When I think about never seeing him again - that his body no longer exists - I get a sick stabbing feeling in my stomach. The same feeling I get when I wake up and remember that this horrible thing has really happened.

I just wrote a post and then the computer wouldn't take it--maybe because there's a storm outside and the satellite may be messed up. I'm just going to see if this goes before I write again.

I sleep a few hours at a time. When I wake up during the night the reality that he is not in the house is stabbing. I've dreamed about him every night since he died last week and then to wake up to the realization that he is gone is so shocking. In answer to your question, he composed choral music and has hundreds of compositions in print which are used by schools and church choirs. His books ranged from fiction to non-fiction. He worked so hard all his life and now is the time he should be out enjoying a walk, playing golf, taking trips to see friends. But dialysis ruined it all. He was sick and angry and sad and it was heartbreaking to see. I'd get so mad at him if he ate the wrong foods and then we'd argue. Now I'm sorry. I was stressed out doing all that was involved with the dialysis and lost my temper so many times. I wish I could take it all back. So much regret. And I worry that perhaps I wasn't careful enough in doing his treatments and may have caused the infection that brought on his death. Guilt. And more guilt for the times over the years when we fought. I didn't ever think about him not being here. It's not real until it happens to you.

My husband Steve had diabetes and his kidney function had declined to a point where he had to start dialysis this past January. He had restless leg syndrome very bad and it made it impossible for him to sit still in the dialysis chair for the 4 hour treatments. So a friend and I learned how to do dialysis treatments at home in shorter segments on a daily basis. We did the treatments through a catheter that had been implanted in his chest/neck area. He hated the sessions and hated being sick. He had been a very productive person - a pianist, a composer (hundreds of published music pieces), an author (30 books), a teacher, a public speaker - a brilliant person who seemed to know so much about every topic. The dialysis treatments tied him to home and he lost interest in everything. There was more going on with him physically and mentally that neither he nor I nor the doctors understood. I suspect he had some mini-strokes because he had trouble with everyday things such as emailing, changing channels on tv, balancing his checkbook. And physically he was in alot of pain much of the time. The doctors insisted things would get better with time but they got worse. In April he became septic and was rushed to the hospital. The catheter had become infected. He was hospitalized for over a week and then needed IV antibiotics for another week. He still felt unwell and complained of excruciating back pain in early May. By the last week of May he was hospitalized again and it was determined he had a blood infection that had settled in his spine and also his heart. A brain scan showed he had clots which may have shot off from the heart infection. They put in a new catheter since the old one was thought to be the source of the infection and they wanted to continue his dialysis. He aspirated during that procedure so they put in a ventilator. He spent the next 10 days struggling with the ventilator. The antibiotics could not clear the infection. Surgery on the heart would most likely kill him. He was unable to speak and in terrible pain, but the doctors and I were able to ask him if he wanted them to attempt heart surgery, if he wanted to continue dialysis; his answers were no to both. The doctor asked if he understood what that meant. He nodded yes. This was about the 3rd week of his hospital stay. The next few days he was in palliative care in the hospital and then transferred to a hospice where he died 3 days later. That's his story. I can't say more now because I'm crying too much. I feel like I'm dying too.

This is my first post. My husband died 7 days ago. I am sobbing hours each day. When I have more strength I will tell his story but for now I just want to see if I'm posting correctly and hope to begin a dialogue with others who are suffering as I am.