Before realizing the death of my love’s brain, I authorized every and all means possible to fight for his life. On a ventilator for three weeks, with dialysis, blood tranfusions, feeding tubes, varied medications, all interventions in hopes of Randy’s body gaining time and strength to fight off Covid. Hopes undulated, despair crept around. While rehabilitation plans were swirling, a scan was taken of his brain.
An ordinary day, isn’t that how all tragedies start? January 29, 2021, a beautiful blue sky with scattered clouds, set the scene for this Thursday, just another day. Our cat had a large sore from a recent fight, so a veterinary visit was needed this ordinary morning. While waiting in the car for the vet to finish, the doctor calls. Randy isn’t responding as we need, when attempting to wean sedation. A brain scan was performed. MILD trauma found. Spots scattered through the brain. The neurologist will call. He chickened out and didn’t tell me what needed to be said. Maybe he realized that a person needs shock in small steps. Maybe he said all that really needed to be said. Maybe he just chickened out.
That ordinary day turned tragically dark with one phone call… brain stem damage, brain damage scattered throughout the whole brain, alive, no vision, no communication, no body control, vegetable, no recovery.
Shock… the sun is shining through a blue sky, but darkness tunnels in.
Death, do you enjoy this moment? Do you relish the anguish on the face of screams, the body of collapse, the being struck in shock?
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