So many feelings
I have not posted on here in quite some time, and I'm sure most people I knew aren't even here any more, but for the two or three I know about, I'm going to write.
My husband John, who turned 50 in April, passed away yesterday due to complications from COVID. He was a state correctional officer (aka prison guard), and likely acquired the virus there. He started feeling ill Oct 4-5, and tested positive on Oct 7. I didn't get tested; I had a runny nose and started to lose taste, and the doctor felt even if I tested negative, they wouldn't believe it since I had mild symptoms and was around him all the time. I lost taste/smell for four days and that was it. No fever, no fatigue, no aches/pains.
John, however, continued to feel absolutely horrible, moaning and groaning with pain. However, he would moan and groan with pain while experiencing basic cold symptoms that most of us ignore, so even the family doctor figured it was just his heightened low pain tolerance, and prescribed tylenol/ibuprofen. He never complained of problems breathing, and I asked regularly. On the 12th we finally did a video call to the PCP, who said it was likely he was dehydrated, and sent us to the ER. He also started complaining about breathing problems that day. To my shock he agreed; we are having financial issues and a visit to the ER would have cost us $200. So we went. I could not go in, and simply sat in the car with my book.
That was the last time I saw him active and alert.
He called me 30 minutes later, panicking because they wanted to put him on a ventilator. I spoke to the doctor, who said his pulse oxygen levels were at 80; they are supposed to be 93 or higher. Due to his claustrophobia he couldn't handle the BiPap mask, so the only recourse was ventilator. He was on the ventilator for a few days and came off of it, and seemed to be improving. They had to put him back on it for a few days and then he was off again. We were able to video chat, and also talk on the phone a few times. Throughout those eleven days, I was dealing with drama at home. John took care of ALL the finances, and I had no passwords, no logons, no account numbers. I finally found a few things and was able to get in...and saw the disaster that he was hiding from me.
But over the weekend of the 23rd-24th, he took a turn for the worse, and they transferred him from the small local hospital to the larger hospital affiliated with Penn State University. He now had staph pneumonia on top of the viral pneumonia COVID causes. They sent him to the larger facility to put him on what's called an ECMO machine; basically an external heart-lung that takes out the carbon dioxide and puts in the oxygen since his lungs were struggling.
When they had him on the ventilator they had him under a bit of sedation. Whenever they would try to lessen that, he would have panic attacks and then his heartrate/blood pressure would increase, and the machine struggled to help him. He slowly started to improve, and then I was informed he had ARDS, Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome, also called wet lung. His lungs were starting to fill with fluid, but they still had hope. They stopped the sedation briefly on Friday morning, and were able to perform a neuro exam, where they gave him commands and he followed them.
Until around 5 pm on Friday, November 6, when blood started seeping into his lungs. They called me at 630 am on Saturday the 7th, telling me that it didn't look good. They told me to come in immediately, and I was able to suit up and go in and talk to him. By then although his mind was fine, his lungs could not win the fight. I had the option of keeping him on the machines but decided not to...he didn't deserve that. So they stopped the machines, simply gave him oxygen, and he made it about a half-hour on his own power.
I believe we made the mistake of marrying too soon. I don't know how compatible we were. He was a lot of things I didn't understand, and I spent a lot of time very unhappy. HOWEVER, he was a good man. He had a rough childhood and even adulthood, and often felt that no one loved or cared about him except me. He was harsh with my son, but he saw such potential in him and wanted him to use that and excel. He ruined our finances, yet would get me little gifts 'just because.' He was planning on working himself to the bone to fix the problems he caused. He believed in the power of doing things right, he believed in morals and decency. He believed in protecting those who could not protect themselves and was a lover of animals. He loved animals so much. His dream was to retire and someday open a kennel.
He never saw that dream come true, but I believe his job will be to mind the other entrance of the Rainbow Bridge, taking care of the pets waiting for their masters to come greet them.
And this is silly but I have to say it. He was a die-hard Republican who LOVED Trump...and at least he passed away while Trump was still in office. He would have been heartbroken otherwise.
My husband John, who turned 50 in April, passed away yesterday due to complications from COVID. He was a state correctional officer (aka prison guard), and likely acquired the virus there. He started feeling ill Oct 4-5, and tested positive on Oct 7. I didn't get tested; I had a runny nose and started to lose taste, and the doctor felt even if I tested negative, they wouldn't believe it since I had mild symptoms and was around him all the time. I lost taste/smell for four days and that was it. No fever, no fatigue, no aches/pains.
John, however, continued to feel absolutely horrible, moaning and groaning with pain. However, he would moan and groan with pain while experiencing basic cold symptoms that most of us ignore, so even the family doctor figured it was just his heightened low pain tolerance, and prescribed tylenol/ibuprofen. He never complained of problems breathing, and I asked regularly. On the 12th we finally did a video call to the PCP, who said it was likely he was dehydrated, and sent us to the ER. He also started complaining about breathing problems that day. To my shock he agreed; we are having financial issues and a visit to the ER would have cost us $200. So we went. I could not go in, and simply sat in the car with my book.
That was the last time I saw him active and alert.
He called me 30 minutes later, panicking because they wanted to put him on a ventilator. I spoke to the doctor, who said his pulse oxygen levels were at 80; they are supposed to be 93 or higher. Due to his claustrophobia he couldn't handle the BiPap mask, so the only recourse was ventilator. He was on the ventilator for a few days and came off of it, and seemed to be improving. They had to put him back on it for a few days and then he was off again. We were able to video chat, and also talk on the phone a few times. Throughout those eleven days, I was dealing with drama at home. John took care of ALL the finances, and I had no passwords, no logons, no account numbers. I finally found a few things and was able to get in...and saw the disaster that he was hiding from me.
But over the weekend of the 23rd-24th, he took a turn for the worse, and they transferred him from the small local hospital to the larger hospital affiliated with Penn State University. He now had staph pneumonia on top of the viral pneumonia COVID causes. They sent him to the larger facility to put him on what's called an ECMO machine; basically an external heart-lung that takes out the carbon dioxide and puts in the oxygen since his lungs were struggling.
When they had him on the ventilator they had him under a bit of sedation. Whenever they would try to lessen that, he would have panic attacks and then his heartrate/blood pressure would increase, and the machine struggled to help him. He slowly started to improve, and then I was informed he had ARDS, Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome, also called wet lung. His lungs were starting to fill with fluid, but they still had hope. They stopped the sedation briefly on Friday morning, and were able to perform a neuro exam, where they gave him commands and he followed them.
Until around 5 pm on Friday, November 6, when blood started seeping into his lungs. They called me at 630 am on Saturday the 7th, telling me that it didn't look good. They told me to come in immediately, and I was able to suit up and go in and talk to him. By then although his mind was fine, his lungs could not win the fight. I had the option of keeping him on the machines but decided not to...he didn't deserve that. So they stopped the machines, simply gave him oxygen, and he made it about a half-hour on his own power.
I believe we made the mistake of marrying too soon. I don't know how compatible we were. He was a lot of things I didn't understand, and I spent a lot of time very unhappy. HOWEVER, he was a good man. He had a rough childhood and even adulthood, and often felt that no one loved or cared about him except me. He was harsh with my son, but he saw such potential in him and wanted him to use that and excel. He ruined our finances, yet would get me little gifts 'just because.' He was planning on working himself to the bone to fix the problems he caused. He believed in the power of doing things right, he believed in morals and decency. He believed in protecting those who could not protect themselves and was a lover of animals. He loved animals so much. His dream was to retire and someday open a kennel.
He never saw that dream come true, but I believe his job will be to mind the other entrance of the Rainbow Bridge, taking care of the pets waiting for their masters to come greet them.
And this is silly but I have to say it. He was a die-hard Republican who LOVED Trump...and at least he passed away while Trump was still in office. He would have been heartbroken otherwise.
sad
sick