Anniversary Of Jerry's Near-Death Surgery

[LadyCarrie]

Today is an anniversary for me. Memories are pelting my mind, and are forcing me back to the Operating Room waiting area of Memorial Hospital at Modesto, California on 6 February 2013. It was two years ago today that my husband, Jerry, almost died during an attempted surgery to repair a 9-cm aneurysm just off his hepatic artery. The aneurysm had caused complete liver failure. Jerry was orange—not yellow—due to jaundice, and his blue, blue eyes were an odd shade of green. Jerry was in the OR two years ago, at this hour, and within a hair's breadth from death.

Jerry went to surgery that day, after being asked by the anesthesiologist whether he understood that he was about to undergo “a big surgery—the biggest of surgeries—there is no bigger surgery.” I understood he was doing his job, but I wished he were less emphatic. We had already been told that Jerry’s chances to live were not good. Even so, Jerry gave me an encouraging smile as they wheeled him away. The OR nurse asked for my cell number, and said that she would keep Amberly and me informed as the surgery progressed. She did so, and gave us a few positive reports, which gave us hope, as we sat together in the waiting area praying.

There was more of me in that OR with Jerry than was with Amberly in the waiting room. Before the surgery began, I told Amberly that I would need to be quiet, so I could pray and be with Jerry as much as was possible. I cannot explain how I knew that my Jerry's spirit was leaving his body, but I knew at the moment it happened. I suddenly knew that Jerry had either died, or was in dreadful trouble on the table.

I told Amberly that something had gone terribly wrong with her father. She said, "Mama, you can't know that." I said, "You are right, Darling. I can't know, but I do." Within fewer than five minutes, the nurse called again. I could not take that call. The nurse told Amberly that she could give us no more information, and that she must direct us to the doctor for answers to our questions. We both knew then that Jerry was in terrible trouble, but we didn't know to what extent. The hepatic artery bypass surgery was not completed, because Jerry lost six liters of blood ("bled out"). He went into shock, but the surgery team were able to revive him.

Several days later, one of Jerry's hospitalists, a Chinese man who took a special interest in Jerry, and wanted to do a study to learn why Jerry "grows" aneurysms, told me that he believed that I did know when Jerry was that near death. He said in cases of rare spousal closeness, one spouse will sometimes feel something of what the other feels (like twins?). I was so appreciative that someone could understand.

A case study is being done because of the rarity of the location of Jerry’s aneurysm, the fact that fifty-two coils were inserted into this huge aneurysm (2-3 coils are usual), and the outcome of the surgery. The surgeon told me, “If he lives, I want to do a case study on him.” Jerry is still being watched|observed carefully. Jerry has been compliant with all the doctors ask of him from the beginning. He says that he will give whatever is asked of him in order to help someone in future. We are told to live one day at a time.

My heart holds many conflicting emotions today—a mixture of joy and sadness; trust and fear; and hope and discouragement. How does one heart hold all of this? Tomorrow, I will feel better. I’m two years into this roller coaster ride, so I know whatever I’m feeling today, will likely be different tomorrow.

Some of you know this story, or at least parts of it. Please forgive me for repeating myself. In truth, I’ll likely do it again. Thank you for being here for me. I know you have hurts of your own, and I care about your hurts also. May God hold each one tenderly.

Blessings,

Carrie

[enna]

Dear Carrie,

Bless you for sharing this story. I just want you to know that I have read it and am inspired by your courage. How beautiful that you and Jerry are so connected. I love that so many of us who are here have had spouses who are true soul mates. {{{hugs}}} to the three of you.

Anne

[MartyT]

♥

[feralfae]

Dear Carrie,

Thank you for sharing your story. I am sorry that your days are such roller-coaster days right now.

I sometimes think that when we tell our story over and over again, we can release a lot of that old energy. This is an anniversary day for you. Something very significant happened in your lives, and your lives were transformed into a new paradigm. I am glad you are able talk about it, and about your present conflicting emotions, as well as your beautiful Faith. {{{hugs}}}

How could you not be all over the place emotionally? I am glad you are being compassionate with ourself, and it sounds as though you are all, with open hearts, being compassionate and heroic with each other. I think that is a beautiful combination of attributes that is functioning in your home. But, yes, we are not relieved of the conflict.

Doug took part in several clinical trials, and we were so very blessed to get more than two years that the doctors said we would not have. You are so right that each day is precious. Each hour when we can be loving and leaving nothing unsaid, is a gift of Grace and a huge blessing. And we both know that there are miracles every day, all around us, so I don't think we can entirely discount the effectiveness of prayer to change things. It works all the time.

I join Anne, Marty, and everyone, in holding the three of you in prayer. Thank you for being here with us, around Marty's healing fire.

*<twinkles>*

fae

PS .Of course you knew when there was a crisis! Follow Your Heart.

Edited February 7, 2015 by feralfae

[LadyCarrie]

Dear Anne, Marty, and Fae,

I thank each of you with all my heart. It is because I know so many others here have had such soul mates as I that I know I'm understood. How could anyone who had never had such a soulmate possibly understand and feel what you all feel? You understand because your loves are just as special and just as deep as mine. It is because you still love your precious spouses deeply, and you know they are with you in spirit, and you have had such soul mates, that I have been able to talk here. I believe I've shared more with you than I've ever shared in my life, because for the first time, except with Jerry, and a bit lesser with Amberly, I feel that it's all right---safe.

Fae, in order to get to know you, I went back to your introductory letter to Marty, and read forward for a while. When I saw the date of your Doug's death, I was quite affected by it. You and I came very close to sharing an anniversary date. I felt a kind of bond with you, although I had never known you. Perhaps that sounds strange to you. I'm a little surprised myself. This kind of grief still has surprises for me. You had a bit of time with your Doug as I do with Jerry. I would say to prepare, but I'm not sure that's possible. I'm trying to drink him in, and learn from him all at the same time. As I read your posts, I began to realize that I remembered where I was and what was happening to Jerry on several of the dates of your posts. I'm writing from memory, but I believe you first wrote to Marty on 2 February 2013. That was a big treatment day for Jerry. There were several dates that jogged my memories. Because Jerry's surgery, and all that happened at that time, seems like yesterday to me, I know three years is not long for you either. Please know that I care. My thoughts and my prayers will be with you throughout tomorrow.

It was long ago that I lost my first husband. I still hurt for him when I remember, and especially on special dates. The raging grief is no more. I have soft memories of young love, and fond memories of going to the museums in Chicago, picnicking on the shore of Lake Michigan after church at La Grange, watching the air traffic at O'Hare airport just for fun, and other happy memories with him. We were both reared in MS, and were married there in his parents' home. We lived in IL five years. Trips into the city were a big thing for us. That death was shocking, terrible, and painful, but I did get through it. It doesn't live with me any longer. I am dreading and fearing the worst hurt I will ever have. I'm trying to prepare in some ways, and have not one whit of hope in others.

It's been a bit of a rough day for me because I learned that my sister who was diagnosed with spinal cancer during Christmas week, now has it in her lungs. She will not be treated. She's opting for quality of life over quantity. She is a retired surgical RN, director of nurses, and hospital administrator. She's made an educated decision. Amberly agrees with it. I do also, but it's difficult let her go. I am comforted by knowing that she is being cared for by her daughter who is a RN also.

It is almost midnight here, and I think 3 a.m. for you, Marty. I'm tired, so I hope I've actually said what I was trying to say---what is in my heart.

Blessings and hugs to all. ❤️❤️❤️

Carrie

[kayc]

Oh Carrie, how I wish I'd read that last night, but I was unable to get back on line after I took Arlie out last night. You have been through so much with your Jerry. You might wonder why, but all I know is, you've had two more years with him! I know it has been hard, but what I wouldn't have given to have been able to have had two more years with George...he didn't make it to surgery. I won't know what it is to have been his caregiver, to have watched him suffer over a long period of time...I have been a caregiver, but not for my husband. I know he wouldn't have wanted to have lived like an invalid, but I also know he'd have given anything to have had more time to cuddle with me, talk to me, just be together. It wasn't to be. I don't know how you've done it, with your illness and his, there's no way to put into words all you have gone through or how had it has been...some things are beyond description. I pray each day that he is alive that both of you can find a good reason in that day, something positive when you look back over the day...I know that some days it'll seem hard pressed, more of a challenge, but I pray you find it. These "anniversaries" are hard as they can be so emotionally gripping, they take you way back. I do know my husband died six months before his death and the airbag going off gave the thrust to his chest that restarted his heart...I am grateful for each day of that six months. It wasn't until we saw the surgeon that all of the pieces fell into place. Dec. 19, 2004 is that day for me, six months before his final death. Perhaps it's not considered death until the angel undertakers keep your soul, but when your heart has completely stopped and there is no breath, no blood pressure, medically speaking you are considered dead. I know someone that happened to nine times in one night...he got a heart transplant and is still alive today, years later. I've learned it does no good to ask why one person makes it through and another does not, only to be grateful for each moment we're given...it's a gift, no matter how hard it is.

Carrie, I just read your next post, I am so sorry your sister has it in her lungs now. It's hard to digest so much,especially at such an emotional time, I will keep you in my prayers.

I hope you're able to sleep in!

[LadyCarrie]

Dear Kay,

Thank you for writing to me this morning. Actually, I don't recall ever asking Why Jerry and I have our particular set of things to endure (my memory is short, and my thoughts are slippery these day, so I might have, and it might have been yesterday). All people have things to endure; these things just happen to be ours. I believe that our trials can make our relationship with God stronger, for they keep us talking with Him. In this way, good comes despite the bad.

During the time I was in my deepest valley, when Jerry was in such imminent danger, I was made aware that I was not alone. I knew without a doubt God was with me. My faith is bolstered by the knowledge that I will never be truly alone ever again (how can I know this and still feel scared beyond what is reasonable at times?). I hear in my mind, "I will never leave you or abandon you." I apologize to Him when my faith fails. I know He understands that I'm only a human, so my faith will fail. I'm not proud of myself when that happens, but I know I'm forgiven whenever it does. He picks me up, puts me back upright, and I can walk a piece farther before falling on my face into the mud again. Sometimes He picks me up by sending special people, like yourself, into my life. I count each one here as a special gift from God. I can hear Him speaking to my heart, saying, "See, I told you that I won't let you be alone." I prayed for you, and here you are. I think He gives each of us here on this forum to each other. The blessing is not for me alone, but for all of us.

Jerry and I have not endured nearly so much as so many others on this forum. I'm sharing some of our stories while learning from your stories, and from the stories of the others here.

Some wonder which way is easier/better---to lose our loved one suddenly or slowly. For me, I know. As agonizing as it is for me to go through this process slowly, I'm coping with it better than I would have had I lost Jerry as you lost your George, and as my friend Barbara lost her Tom (she found him early one morning dead in the snow on their deck at the 8000 ft elevation; she gave him mouth-to-mouth after he had been gone a few hours; that memory is seared into her brain, and makes her crazy---literally, her son believes). I know how blessed I am to have this time, not only to just be together, but to prepare physically and financially (somewhat). Emotionally, I have no hope to prepare. That is a planned insanity. I've made arrangements already.

As for the "How to's," I follow Jerry around like the Paparazzi with a camcorder, iPhone, iPad, and other paraphernalia trying to learn how to take care of myself. I never knew I would need to know how to service the generator, repair the watering system, maintain things I can barely identify, and a host of things that I don't even know about yet! I read somewhere that the widow must learn to fill her husband's roles. I'm to fill Jerry's roles? In the vernacular, Ain't no how. I can do some things, and I am determined to do them well, because somehow, I must find my backbone (curvaceous as it is), and do whatever I must. You, and so many others here, do whatever you must, and your doing so, gives me courage. I'm grateful to you, and I admire you.

I do have a gratitude notebook. I have much for which to be grateful. I have little time to write in my notebook, for much of my time is spent writing whatever Jerry's dictated to me throughout the day. I am grateful for a multitude of things regarding this one thing.

No, it doesn't help to wonder why one lives, and another doesn't (sometimes we feel anger and hurt because of the apparent unfairness even so). God knows from the time of our conception the moment of our death, and I need to believe He makes the right decision for each one (sometimes not easy to accept). He keeps our tears in a bottle, and each one is precious to Him (each person and each tear). We are loved unconditionally. My eldest sister explained to me the death of our handicapped sister who died "too soon" of a pulmonary embolism. She said that our sister was like a fully ripened ear of corn, she was ready to be chosen by God.

I've come to believe my original denial that I am Jerry's caregiver was my resistance to his death. I'm grateful for the privilege to be his caregiver. You are right in all you said about it. I had to work through some things.

Thank you for your care regarding my sister. It hurts SO much to lose her. I know I will never see her again, for I cannot go to her. I am helpless to physically help her. I feel (am) so danged helpless regarding her! Because of my need to devote my life and time to Jerry right now, I have no other option but to postpone my grief for her, and for Ashely--and likely Callie soon. I do grief for each loss, but I'm trying to keep it down, for it feels like I can't hold anymore hurt right now. Jerry deserves my all.

Blessings and hugs, ❤️

Carrie

[kayc]

I don't think you did ask "why", I was just rambling...most people do go through a questioning stage, it's just they seldom get an answer and eventually figure out it helps to focus on what they can do with it, not ask why as an echoing question.

I don't know that we can compare which loss is harder because they're all hard in their own way, just different. I lost my husband suddenly, but I lost my MIL slowly...I took care of her nearly three years while she was bedridden with cancer. It was so hard watching it take her from me, bit by bit and the hardest part was seeing her suffer and feeling so helpless and unable to change it. I wish I could have had a "last conversation" with George, and the shock was very hard, but I'm glad he didn't have to linger to death, at least the suffering was mine instead of his. I've heard so many here talk about taking care of their spouse for years before they died (with Alzheimer's for instance) and I know that's not easy...my mom had Lewy Bodies Dementia. It's hard when they don't know who you are or you feel you can't reach them. All of these experiences though, I feel, are catalyst for growth in us and certainly we learn from all of our collective experiences. I wish life did not have pain and death but one day we will have that no more, and I look forward to that!

[LadyCarrie]

Dear Kay,

Oh, no, I didn't take what you said in a bad way at all. I understood. I might have questioned regarding Jerry, and I might do so again. Today, I just don't remember. Grief, stress, and age have made my thoughts slippery. When my mother died, I definitely questioned (not that she died, but the how of it). I questioned to the point of dangerously being disrespectful to God. I said things to Him that should have brought me great discipline; instead, He held onto me regardless of all my kicking and squalling. He held onto me while I was unable to hold onto Him. He's like that with His children. It is His love that brings me to my knees.

You are right in saying that there is no better or easier way (having warning or not), but for me personally, I know having warning is better for me. Having said that, should Jerry die before I die, his death will "feel" very sudden indeed. I may be screaming Why to the top of my lungs. The living with dread is tough. Regardless of the number of years we have with our loved one, the time is way too soon.

My mother had dementia also. She thought I was her mother for a year. My sister had Alzheimer's. Before she was diagnosed, she called me one day and said that it had been some time since we'd talked, so she was calling to catch up. I blurted, "What in the world are you talking about? We talked (whenever it was)." I feel so sorry I said such an awful thing to her, but there was no sucking it back in. The saying, "May God keep His arm around my shoulders, and His hand over my mouth" comes to my mind. Sometimes I question my slippery thoughts, especially when I seem to have too many of them within a short period. I think of my sister's having Alzheimer's, and I wonder about myself. Jerry tells me that if it's happening to me, it's happening to him. That gives me relief for a few seconds before I think, "That could happen." People make jokes about their memory lapses being Alzheimer's. Those of us who have watched our family members slip away from this disease, can't find the joking amusing, although we realize no one means harm.

Hugs,

Carrie

[kayc]

No, it's no joking matter, that's for sure. I remember taking my mom out to dinner and she proudly announced (rather loudly) that she was 400 years old! I laughed before I could stop myself and she looked rather hurt and said, "Did I say something wrong?" I felt terrible for having laughed, but it took me by such surprise and caught me off guard. I told her, "No, you didn't say anything wrong, I'm sure you feel 400". She asked how old she was and I told her she was 91.

When you don't get warning that your husband even has something wrong with him and he's young and just up and dies, you have to deal with the extreme shock of it all. But when know your husband has a fatal disease ahead of time, you become his caregiver and watch him die bit by bit, unable to do the things he used to, perhaps frustrated, dealing with his own mortality. They're different kinds of things to deal with, yes, but when death comes, there is the finality we all have to deal with, and that's tough. Even when you think you're prepared and you've already grieved in anticipation, the finality hits and it surprises you that it does, I remember going through that with my MIL, and she was my best friend, I honestly didn't see how I'd do life without her.

[LadyCarrie]

Dear Kay,

You have suffered much, learned much, and shared much of what you've learned. You've gained wisdom and knowledge from each hurt you've suffered, and you have used these tools to help others. Your using what you've learned is taking the bad and turning it to good. This is Christianity in action. You have not wasted your pain, but used it for the good, growth, and healing of others. You are a blessing to so many, including me.

Each time I think of the suddenness of your loss of your George, my heart always goes out to you. This happens because I know how frantic I was when Jerry was expected to die during his hospital stay, and at any moment. I was so unprepared in just about every way (so much unsaid, so much I had no idea of what to do about [e.g. how to sell a corporation (way too mind-boggling for me; I had been told for years that in case of such an emergency, to call our business attorney, but I knew this would simply begin a process I knew nothing about)], how many System contracts I was responsible for, who to call for house maintenance [since Jerry does our electrical, plumbing, etc.], and so much more). I read all the things you do for yourself, and wonder how you do it. I know this is my time to learn from you and from others here. You give me courage to learn and to stay strong. You and I are survivors. We are strong women, yet we don't want to need to be strong all the time.

I truly understand your laughter (and how you felt about laughing) after your mother's saying that she was 400 years old. It's all right for us who love our family member who has Alzheimer's to have our moments of spontaneous hilarity. Some things are just too danged comical to hold back the laughter. My mother would have laughed at herself, so it's all right. I've wished many times that I had not laughed, but there's just no "sucking it back in." Mama had dementia, rather than Alzheimer's. My sister had Alzheimer's. I've wondered about my mother, because she never had the MRI that would have confirmed which she had. Amberly says, "Likely dementia." Both are painful for family members.

You are right in all you said about watching your loved one die a bit at a time, and with his/her knowledge that it's happening. There are the "little" losses--things that "should" be easy, but are no longer possible. These happen often here now. Even when death is expected, it feels so sudden.

I often wonder whether I'm accomplishing my goal of getting ahead of grief, but I believe I am, at least somewhat. Being a part of this group is a great blessing to me, and I'm grateful to be a part and for the relief and security I feel. I feel like each one here is a part of my new family. When I married Jerry and left my home in MS, and all that was familiar to me, to move to his home state of CA, I became a member of a new, wonderful, and eager-to-accept me family. I have been loved by his people for forty-six years; unfortunately, we've lost nearly all of his family to death, except for three first cousins who live in distant places. In a way, becoming a part of this forum reminds me of becoming a part of Jerry's family so long ago.

I believe your mother-in-law was more like a mother to you. You were blessed to have each other. One of Jerry's aunts filled such a role for me, and I loved her dearly. Her two daughters had moved to the South and to the East Coast, so she had another daughter in me. God is good. He really does give us people.

Blessings and hugs,

Carrie

[kayc]

I only felt bad about laughing because of the hurt look in my mom's eyes when she said, "Did I say something wrong?" She knew her brain wasn't right and she tried so hard to make sense of things and make the pieces of the puzzle fit...they just didn't. My mom's was Lewy Bodies Dementia, kind of like Alz. and Parkinson's together, she also had Leukemia. But for my mom's mental illness, she did well physically up until her advanced years. She took up jogging in her 70s! She was never overweight, I think the most she ever weighed was 135 and that when she was pregnant. She had high blood pressure, high cholesterol, Diabetes, but all under control with medicine. She was so disciplined, got lots of exercise, worked hard around her place.

Yes, my MIL was like the mom I'd always wanted, she took time to listen and she was so thoughtful and caring. If I needed to get a stain out of the carpet, or how to settle a colicky baby, it was her I'd call. I learned pie-making tips from her. I loved her so much, she truly was my best friend and I knew it'd take 1,000 people to fill her shoes and it still wouldn't be done right. I felt so blessed to have her the short ten years I had her in my life.

You're right, all we can do is learn from what we go through and try to let positive work through it. You are a shining example of one who lives that and I strive to.

I thank God I didn't have to close down a business...I've done that for bosses, but it is different if it's your husband who is becoming disabled or dying, esp. when your brain has a hard time thinking at that point. Too much stress at a time you don't need it!

I'm taking over the Treasurer job at the church and it's way more complicated than I'd ever imagined...I've done this before for another church and another non-profit, but this is way more convoluted. It will be a long time, I'm sure, before I feel I've caught on. Today I did so many reports for the different boards, and it's good to have them done. Ugh, the responsibility scares me! Funny, yesterday's lesson in sunday school and also our sermon in church talked about moving outside our comfort zone...I definitely feel I've bit that one off! Ahh, but that seems to be what life is about...just when we are comfortable and things are going great...wham! It isn't. But we get through it.

[LadyCarrie]

Kay,

Sometime during the two weeks Jerry was in Step Down, during the time we were being told there was nothing the doctors could do for him, he called a business meeting to be held behind the curtain around his bed. In that meeting he told what was to be done regarding our business, and who was to do what. He told me to call our business attorney and our CPA as soon as possible. Of course, there was much more. As you can imagine, that was the hardest dictation I’ve ever taken in my life.

Before this meeting could take place, I needed to make arrangements with his doctor, especially since a business meeting held in Step Down was a bit unusual. The doctor knew it needed to be done, so he agreed. On the day of the meeting, his Step Down nurse did not approve at all, and asked me to not allow it to happen. I told her that I really thought it would be much harder on Jerry if he did not get to have the meeting.

It was so difficult to keep my emotions under control, but I did what I needed to do. I tried to go into professional mode, and just do my job. I needed to pretend I was taking dictation for him just as I’ve done for so many years, and try to not think about it being the last business meeting we would ever have. This was so, so hard to do. We really thought it was our last. Of course, this was terribly hard on Jerry, but one would never be able to tell by the way he handled it. If he could do it, so must I.

I’m happy you are an officer for your church. I can just imagine how complicated it is. I think you will learn your job, and will do it well. They are blessed to have you. Isn’t it interesting how the sermons hit home sometimes? You’ve held positions career-wise that will help you much with your new position. I truly wish you well. You deserve some good things happening for you now. Take good care of yourself.

By the way, we were on the southern end of your storm. I think it was harder for you. We did have some roaring wind (could hear it roaring through and above the trees steadily) and a bit over three inches of rain. We are in great need of rain, for we are in a most serious drought. We enjoy watching the trees do a waltz, but when they do the limbo, we get a tad nervous.

Amberly just got home from work. She said that she saw two mudslides on the road on her way to work this morning. Our neighbor, who lives about five minutes away from us had a slide into their drive. He was glad he had a 4-wheel drive, for he needed it to get out. Amberly said the motels in Sonora went on what they call S.O.S. rates, because people were calling for rooms with special rates due to storm damage. We ourselves suffered no damage. The wind had our attention though, for it was scary high.

Blessings,

Carrie

[kayc]

Carrie, I can only imagine how that must have felt, thinking it's the last meeting and having it there. You and Jerry have really been through a lot. I, too, try to separate emotions and run in professional mode when necessary. I've been divorced three times yet never missed a day of work for it. It's so hard to go to work like nothing happened when your husband leaves you for another woman...yet I've done it. You just have to leave personal at home. They taught us that in our business courses but it's one thing to learn about it, another to employ it.

The storm has passed here, we have sunshine predicted for the next week! We are going to have drought this summer, we don't have snow pack. This is my 38th winter here and I've never seen anything like this. It only snowed Christmas Eve day and barely on Christmas! This is extremely rare. I don't like to see several feet, but honestly, we need snow in the mountains!

I'm glad you didn't suffer any damage. I'm fortunate, being on top of a mountain, that I don't have to worry about flooding, etc...I get some standing water in my carport but I can move the vehicles out and park on the road or up the driveway. And my house being on a hill, it drains down below me and joins the creek. There is always a possibility of being cut off from the world for a time, though, if it floods across the roads leading up to here, that's happened but only temporarily, and the county has put in more drainage to help curb the problem.