I haven’t cleared my phone history, so I know exactly when I called 911. It was 8:54pm. 8:54 when things suddenly became so terrifying that I knew he needed help. 8:54pm when I began to have the first flares of panic as I worried about what would happen and the world began to crumble around me.
Sometimes time seems to stand still, but as I look back on that night it feels like it moved at breakneck speed. The paramedics arrived, gave him oxygen, everything seemed to be improving. He was having a lot of trouble moving without getting out of breath, but they got him into the ambulance and he was stable. He was talking with them, giving them the information they needed. He was still stable and talking as he entered the ER, it wasn't until after they brought him in that his heart stopped. Because I’d have had no way to get home I chose to follow the ambulance in my car instead of riding along. I regret that deeply, I regret that I wasn't able to sit with him and spend his last alert moments holding his hand, trying to lend him energy, just being with him. I feel like I abandoned him, and I will always wonder if my presence would have made any difference. Or maybe I just grieve for myself, that I didn't have the chance to hear his voice one more time, that I couldn't kiss him on the cheek and embed that in my memory. That I couldn't hear him tell me he was going to be fine, he was always fine, he could overcome anything. What if I had just went with him... These are things I realize I can never know, but I will always ask myself those what if questions.
By the time they brought me into the ER they knew it was too late, they’d sent a Chaplain and a nurse to prepare me, and I know they were just bringing me in so I could be there at the end, with him. He was unconscious by then, but they still worked furiously on him. I've never been so terrified in my life, I felt like i was outside myself, but I didn't fall apart. I held his hand tight, I kept rubbing his right leg because I could reach him, and I needed to do something. I wanted him to know i was there, even though I couldn't tell. I wonder if he knew I was holding his hand as they tried to restart his heart, I wonder if some part of him heard me talking to him, telling him how much I loved him. People who have had near-death experiences talk about seeing themselves in the ER, observing what’s going on. I wonder, did he see me there, with him? Could he feel how much I loved him?
Three weeks have passed. It still feels I just spoke to him a moment ago, and the entire event still feels like it has to be a dream. Someday, maybe, I will stop marking the days by how much time has passed, and maybe the feeling that it is unreal won’t be as strong. For now, though, I look at the clock and all I can think is that three weeks ago, at this moment, there was still joy in my life.
(cross posted from Kything NaturesZen)
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