The Day My World Turned Upside-Down

 I want to write out my thoughts and feelings, and I don't want to write about it at the same time.  My brain is trying to process the events of the last three weeks.  It seems surreal.  Sometimes I think I'm going to wake up and this nightmare will be over.  Other moments, I trick myself into believing that Matt is in Pennsylvania working with friends and family, and I only can't see him because he's out of town. He's just forgetting to call me nightly like he normally does.  But the hard truth remains... My husband of 21 1/2 years is gone from this earth.

Please forgive my run-on sentences and disjointed thoughts.  That's how my brain is working right now.  Normally grammar and punctuation are very important to me.  But, now, I don't care.  It's amazing how all the things I found so important three weeks ago, mean nothing to me now. 

This blog post is not only for you - to know what happened and what's going on - but also for me - to voice my feelings, record my memories, and process through the pain.

A Little Backstory.  Matt had been depressed.  He was out of work for over a year - due to lack of work because of Covid.  I encouraged him throughout the year and told him that we were going to be ok.  We always were.  No matter what trial we had, God provided.  My phrase was always, "God's got this."  And God did not disappoint this time either.  We made it fourteen months with hardly any income.  All bills were paid every month weeks before they were due.  We always had food.  We always had shelter.  We were actually even able to go out to eat a couple times a month.  We never ran out of money.  I likened it to the woman with the oil jars who was helping Elijah (?)... Or was it Elisha (?).  Either way, the oil never ran out.  And neither did our checking account.  On paper, it didn't make any sense.  But we have a great God who can do things that don't make sense with ease.  It was hard for Matt, the provider and protector of his family, to catch on to this whole God's got this idea, but he started to come around in January 2021. I even heard him tell someone else what I'd been telling him, about the checking account not making sense on paper. He was finally seeing the miracle God had been providing for over a year!

Not only had Matt been laid off, but our family got Covid at the end of July.  The kids recovered fairly quickly, but Matt and I had symptoms long after the illness was gone.  Long-haulers was the name given to people like us.  These extended symptoms came in the form of depression, headaches, lethargy, brain fog, weakness, etc... We just felt ick.  

Sunday, January 24th.  I guess I'll start on the Sunday before he passed.  I had the worst migraine I'd ever had. It felt like a Covid headache and regular migraine combined.  I was pretty much in bed all day, throwing up, and not wanting to talk to or be around anybody.  I tell you this, because what was about to happen with Matt could all be explained away by depression from lack of work and long-hauler symptoms.

Monday, January 25th.  Matt woke up in a pretty good mood.  He informed me that he was going to take a motorcycle ride to see some friends.  I was very happy about that, because I tried to get him to take motorcycle rides before to lift his spirits, and he didn't want to go.  Very unlike him.  He LOVED riding his motorcycle.  -  That motorcycle was very prayed over, btw.  A purchase that I didn't agree with, but didn't fight either, because I knew it brought him happiness.  - Anyway, that day he wanted to ride it.  And I was excited for him.  He was gone for hours.  Seeing his buddies and just doing things he enjoyed.  Before he left for the day, he promised me that when he came home, he'd put all the boxed Christmas stuff into the garage loft.  It had been sitting on the floor in our kitchen and dining room for about two weeks.  After he left for the day, I decided to put the Christmas stuff away so that he wouldn't have to.  I knew he didn't feel well, and when there was anyway for me to help him, I did.  He came home that Monday evening and didn't say much.  He sat on the couch.  Played some video games.  Watched YouTube. Then went to bed.

Tuesday, January 26th.  Matt woke up in a pretty good mood again.  Two days in a row!  I remember sitting at the dining room table doing math with one of my sons, thinking, This is it!  He's coming out of his deep, dark depression!  Matt asked me if I would help him put the Christmas stuff away when I was done doing school with the boys.  I told him that I'd already put the stuff out in the garage.  He walked into the garage and came back into the house and asked, "Will you come out and help me put it up into the loft, please?  I was confused. It was already up in the loft.  I told him I'd already done that.  He was so impressed.  (Some of those boxes were heavy! Full disclosure: two kids helped me.)  He complimented me and told me how much he loved me and how amazing I was.  I do not say this to brag, but to let you know his kind sweet words... The last words I would hear before he called me on the phone from our bedroom.  He went out to the living room afterward and sat in front of the TV.  This was normal behavior from him during his depression.  He turned on YouTube for only a few minutes.  He turned it off and went upstairs to our bedroom, quietly.  Again, him going to the bedroom during the middle of the day was normal depressed behavior for him, but not doing it without saying something to me.

The Phone Call.  I had finished school and was upstairs in our bonus room - beside our bedroom - when I got a call from 5 feet away.  "Karen, get in here!  I'm having the worst headache of my life!"  I walked into our bedroom and saw him running around holding his head.  I had just had a horrible headache two days prior, so I told him to lie down. I walked out of the room to go get something for him.  I barely made it out, when he called my phone again.  "Get in here!  It hurts so badly!"  He was now throwing up.  I grabbed a trash can and handed it to him. I remembered my migraine and told him again to lie down. Once again I tried to get downstairs for headache medicine.  This time I was very demanding and told him to stay in bed and not get up.  After leaving the room, I heard him stumbling around.  I turned back around to go into the bedroom.  He was running out of our bathroom saying something, but I couldn't understand what he was saying.  It was garbled speech.  I asked him if I needed to call 911.  He lucidly and clearly said, "No. You don't need to do that."  I figured the garbled speech was just from the pain of the headache.  So again, I told him to lie down.  And once again, I tried to go downstairs to get him migraine medicine.  I had scarcely made it out of the room when I heard bumping around and then a big THUD!  I ran back in the room to see him seizing on the floor.  Other things happened too, but for his dignity, I will leave those details out of this blog. I called a friend and told her to come right away.  Then I called 911.  It was at that moment that I finally realized that this was not a migraine or anything else that could be easily identified or justified by our life experiences.  It was in that moment that I realized, I might lose him.  The 911 operator helped me out greatly.  I was freaking out.  She snapped me into reality and got me to calm down enough to give chest compressions while I waited for the EMTs.

The EMTs Arrive.  They got there so quickly.  What felt like an eternity to me, was probably only 3 minutes.  We live very close to our fire department and police station.  The EMTs took over as I cried and tried to tell them what had happened.  I don't even know if I was making any sense at this point.  My brain was in shock.  When I was doing chest compressions, I was only getting about 2 breaths a minute.  I knew things did not look good for survival, but I still had hope.  Even as the EMTs were calling out, "No pulse!" on my bedroom floor repeatedly. I still had hope.  And then, suddenly, a strong bond feeling that I had in my innermost being - and I cannot explain it in words - was immediately gone.  Gone.  I didn't feel it anymore.  I told the one EMT who was standing closest to me that Matt was gone.  The EMT reassured me that they were working on him.  Then I heard from two feet away, "No pulse!"  After working on him for a while, they shocked his heart into starting again and whisked him into the ambulance once they got him stabilized.

The Kids.  Thankfully, my two younger children were in the driveway playing basketball and had no idea that anything was happening until the firetrucks pulled up.  The older two were in the house.  Both hearing everything that was happening. My oldest son seeing briefly his father on the floor dying.  I have to tell you, It was not a quiet death.  And those poor sweeties heard me screaming and panicking on top of that.  If you think about it, pray for them.  Post Traumatic Stress is an issue, especially for my daughter.  Anyway, we have the best neighbors, and immediately, there were neighbors in our front yard taking the kids into their care.  I'm so thankful for them.

The Hospital.  I am still hopeful at this point.  I walk into the ER with my friend and my neighbor (a friend too).  They allow us all to go back to a holding room.  At this point, because of Covid restrictions, I should've realized that was not a good sign.  But I still had hope.  Even though that feeling of a bond was gone.  I told myself, he's in the hospital now.  And they would figure out why he was having his headache.  And they would fix him.  And everything would be back to normal.

The ER Room.  The doctor walks in and asks me if he fell.  "Yes!" I say, "he stumbled and fell."  The doctor asks me if he hit his head.  I honestly didn't know.  I wasn't in the room. He informs me that there is a brain bleed, but they hope to transport him up to Birmingham to do the surgery needed to fix it.  Hope! If they're wanting to do surgery, there's hope! An hour later, the doctor comes back in the room and explains to me that they sent his CT scans to UAB and they determined that the brain bleed was too massive and they would not do the surgery.  Confusion sets in.  How can this be?  Matt and I were just talking a couple of hours ago.  Laughing.  He was saying the sweetest things to me.  And now, I'm being told he's brain dead.  I was asked immediately to give them a choice: Should they resuscitate or not.  My head is still trying to wrap around what is being told me.  Brain dead?  Less than one percent survival chance?  A DNR?  How can this be happening?  -- As a side note: One thing I really appreciate the doc telling me, is that it didn't matter when I called 911, the results would've been the same. His aneurysm was in a place where they do not operate. It was one of the largest brain aneurysm bursts they had ever seen. He let me know that it didn't matter when I called 911. He began dying the moment his severe headache first started. This was important to me, because I had been blaming myself for not calling 911 when I asked him if I needed to.

The Kids Say Goodbye.  None of this has been easy.  Watching the person that you love, the person you have been soulmates with for over 21 years, the person you were going to grow old with, the person who helped you raise your kids... watching that person die on your bedroom floor... unbearable. But, let me tell you; Watching your kids find out that their father has passed away is beyond words.  There are no words to explain that kind of grief.  My heart hurt so badly for them.  The heartbreak.  The literal pain in my heart. And there was nothing I could do to take it away.  I tried to hug one, as another collapsed to the floor.  I'm not going to lament anymore on this part, because I can't get through it without crying.  Just know, it's pain and grief like you've never imagined.

The Night in The MICU.  You may be asking why we spent the night in the MICU if he was declared brain dead.  Well, Matt was a giver.  He was always giving people his time, his money, his talent, and his support.  And he was no different after he was technically gone from this world.  He was an organ donor. The donor organization couldn't get into the hospital until I did paperwork. Plus the hospital and donor organization's schedules had to coincide.  That day wasn't until Thursday.  So in the meantime, they needed to keep his vitals level and his body temperature up.  There is plenty to say about the MICU.  My daughter and I spent the entire night Tuesday into Wednesday afternoon with him.  But, that may have to be another blog post.

Thursday, January 28th.  They took Matthew off of the respirator at 9:53pm.  His heart gave out at 10:05.  His official time of death was 10:10, five minutes after the last heartbeat.  And then, they began to retrieve organs and send them out to others who needed them.  He was always a giver.  One of the things I loved about him.

There are plenty of things that had happened that I did not write about.  Some I will write about later.  Some are still cluttered in my head, and I am unable to express them.  And some I will never write about, because they are too painful.  And still some are just for my heart alone.  

January 26th was the last day of me being the me I had been since August 1999.  Now I'm forced to be a new me. A single parent.  A widow - being referred to as a widow at 46 is hard to grasp.  The sole provider.  The head of the house. The decision maker.  The sole responsible party... I have a feeling I'll be figuring out the new me for a while. With God's grace and his filling in the gap, I'll figure it out.