Justin

I just need to say AGAIN how wonderful he's been in all of this. He has never once questioned my feelings for him, even in those first days after Dan's death. He took care of my kids when I couldn't get out of bed. He let me grieve. He continues to let me grieve. He let me sob on his shirt the day that the cremation happened. He went with me to see Dan's dead body, for God's sake. He gives me random hugs just because he knows I need them.

Currently, I'm having serious issues with my parents. They have behaved very selfishly during this entire situation. I understand it's odd, their ex-son in law dying, and them not knowing what to do. It's very clear my mom doesn't understand why it's hit me so hard. I was talking to Justin last night. I reminded him that my parents don't know he was an alcoholic, and if they did, they're the type to roll their eyes and think it's an excuse for not being strong enough. They certainly wouldn't understand the addict-enabler relationship.

My dad and I had the biggest fight we have ever had, yesterday. It was horrible, and resulted in him hanging up on me. He kept trying to control me and I kept pushing back (I have NEVER done this before) and he didn't know what to do. Anyway, J and I were discussing the situation last night and he just looked at me and said "I am the luckiest man in the world because of someone else's misfortune and sickness." He couldn't get it all out before HE started crying. He told me he felt guilty for his "good fortune" and knows that if Dan had been able to get himself together that he and I would never have met. He said he "I saw the love you have for him. And the support that you gave to him. And I'm just so lucky." Sort of an unspoken, "I know you'd do the same for me."

I am the lucky one. To have met someone who came through this WITH me, with flying colors. He has made the best of a horribly awkward situation, standing right next to me at Dan's memorial service. Meeting Dan's friends, passing THEIR inspection.  Loving my kids, Dan's kids, unconditionally.

a box for daddy

This morning, S & A were up super early. While I was getting ready, they were coloring.  I heard A say something about daddy and S said "no, he's not here." I walked out and asked what they were talking about. S told me that A wanted to give daddy the picture she drew and S told her that she couldn't because daddy wasn't here anymore. We all sat right down in the hallway to discuss. I told them that I thought it was a great idea for them to draw pictures for daddy, write notes for daddy, whatever they wanted to do. S questioned me on how he would get them. I told her that she was right, that we couldn't physically give daddy the pictures, but maybe we could make a pretty box that we could put all the things in that we'd like to give to daddy, and that even though he wasn't here in person, he'd know that they were for him. And I said that I thought leaving notes for daddy was a great idea and S excitedly said "like when I want to tell him that I lost my second tooth!!" And I said YES, exactly!!!

And now I'm crying again just thinking about the conversation. All the milestones he will miss, although I know in truth, if he were still here, he'd miss most of them anyway. But, my kids will be cheated out of getting to tell their dad special things.

Some days...

Some days, I can get through most of the day with little emotion felt about D. Other days, I am just overwhelmed by it. Those typically are the days when I can "feel" him around me. I realize that sounds crazy. I do. But I can. I woke up this morning early, without an alarm, and realized I'd been dreaming about him. I can never remember my dreams, and I struggled for a bit to remember that one, but to no avail. And it was a mix of him and J; all mixed up together. I remember that much, but that's about it, and I couldn't have sorted it out if I'd tried.  But it was a good start to the day, feeling close to him.

I want to see him. I want to see him in my children. I look at C and just stare at him, hoping that some expression of his daddy's will pop up on that sweet face. I can hear his laugh, so clearly. I am comforted knowing that I am touching something that he touched. God, how creepy is that?!?

Two Fridays ago, I took J to the condo for the first time. he's going to help me get it ready to rent and stopped by after dinner for him to get an idea of what would be needed. It was the first time I was there after dark, since I'd lived there. I warned J before we walked in that it was a bit stinky. It was the alcoholic Dan smell. The smell of alcohol leaving his pores when his body couldn't process it any longer, mixed with a bit of sweat. It was the smell of my family room before D started sleeping in the basement. I remember it vividly, how I'd walk in in the morning to wake him and this smell permeated the family room.  But now, in a closed up condo, it seemed even more concentrated to me. After we left, I asked him if he smelled anything and he said he did but it wasn't bad, just a bit "sour." He didn't think it was strong at all, but to me, it's all I could smell and it was overwhelming.

I could tell that J seemed a bit uncomfortable there. He told me after the fact that he felt like he was intruding. We were there for about 45 minutes. We were standing, talking about what needed to be done, and he was making some notes. I started looking around and memories came flooding back, good and bad. A lot bad. During the silence I noticed the ticking of a clock on the wall. It was a new clock that he must have purchased, and the tick tocking seemed so LOUD to me. It got to a point when it was all I could focus on. I suddenly felt like I was experiencing what he had. Nightime, silence, except for a ticking clock. And it felt so lonely. He must have been so lonely. He slept in the floor of the living room, next to this ticking clock. I know him well enough to know that must have affected him in some way. I was crying, and told J that we needed to leave. I'd reached my max and couldn't deal anymore.

Last Wed, he and a friend removed the two loveseats from the condo. They were trashed, and they just took them to a dumpster. I knew that I could not be there for that. To me, I was removing part of him from that condo. And I couldn't be present for it. When J got home, sweet Sierra was all over him sniffing. He realized that she must have smelled D on his clothes.

Woah

I just saw a link to this article on FB. Holy hell. With the exception of actually divorcing Dan, this is me, this was us. Some pieces are so right on that it's eerie. I'm floored at the similarities.

Oddly, I found it comforting to know that her husband died within 19 days of being given the diagnosis of alcoholic hepatitis. I've been too busy to research it, and honestly it never occurred to me to research it, but I'm now curious what the recovery rate is for this form of hepatitis.

Alcoholic hepatitis was actually the 2nd diagnosis listed on Dan's death certificate.  Dan's death certificate. How strange to say that. I actually only looked at it on the way to the Celebration of Life for him, not quite 2 weeks ago. I had picked up the copies and was taking them to his brother so that he can close his estate. In a state of denial of course, I looked at it. And it felt like I'd been hit by a truck. Date of Death. How does he even have a "date of death?" And my heart sank when I saw his marital status listed as divorced. It somehow seems nicer to me to die married. I know I know. Completely illogical. And at the bottom were the diagnoses. I wasn't expecting that, as I'd only seen one other death cert and that was his moms. The first was hepatorenal syndrome, which basically means that your liver shuts down your kidneys, and then your kidneys get so bad that there's no possible way for your liver to improve. It was mentioned to me several times in the hospital, but no one ever confirmed. It's a dx of exclusion, so basically you rule everything else out and that's what you end of up with. The 2nd dx was alcoholic hepatitis.

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/05/27/surviving-an-alcoholic/?rref=opinion&module=Ribbon&version=context&region=Header&action=click&contentCollection=Opinion&pgtype=Blogs&_r=0


"Robert’s addiction caused chaos in our marriage, our happily-ever-after days got hijacked at the bar, revealing the ugly underbelly of our often admired marriage. The others in the group had been looking forward to their futures, whereas I worried about fresh troubles each day. While they felt the loss of a partner, I’d lost Robert long ago to a never-ending drink of Scotch. They saw their lives as bleak and empty; I’d found some peace and comfort.

Transformed from wife to detective, I began kissing for the sake of sniffing, snooping for receipts to see how much liquor he bought and how often, discovering hidden trash bags full of empty bottles. The confrontations escalated, initiated by me. I was outraged by Robert’s denial and disregard; yet protective and heartbroken, wanting to save him from himself."

I want to post this on FB. I want to scream it from the mountain tops but I won't. Because it doesn't need to be done. It would be me, admitting that Dan was an alcoholic, to the world. I'm not ready for that; not sure I would EVER be ready for that. He deserves his privacy re: this issue, at least now. And admittedly, I don't want to tarnish any thoughts of him that others might have. Ever the enabler I suppose, but at this point, I'm ok with that.

talked with the neighbors

J and I went yesterday to get D's car from his condo. I knew it had a flat tire, but the battery was also dead. While J was fixing that, a neighbor came by walking her dog and asked "is that Dan?" in regards to J. His back was facing her at the time. My voice just caught in my throat as she walked closer. I somehow managed to get out "no, it's not Dan. He passed away." By then, J had turned around and was right next to me.

I learned that she was the neighbor who called 911 for him. She's also a nurse. She started talking, and I started crying and she stopped. J told her to keep talking, because I wanted to know, and then he walked away. She looked at me and said "he loved you. He did. He talked about you all the time, and he LOVED those kids." And...I lost it.  He couldn't remember my phone number, and had told her that me and the kids were his only family. Clearly, neither one thought to look for my number in his phone, which he had with him.

I cannot TELL you the relief I felt to hear her say she was with him that morning. Her voice was so calm and soothing and I'm sure that was comforting to him. And to just know that he wasn't alone. I mean, I knew he wasn't, but she had his best interests in mind. She seemed to be an angel to me. I am just so glad he wasn't alone, and he knew that someone cared. 

Her story was very consistent with the story I'd heard from the dr. Another neighbor found him that morning, and then called her (Shannon), to come take a look at him, since she's a nurse. She told me that he was completely coherent, and oriented x 3. And also very very jaundiced already. He told her that he thought he'd had a seizure the night before, in the parking lot, and he fell. She said he had a spot on his forehead and side of his head that was consistent with a fall. He told her he'd been too weak to get inside so crawled in his car for the night. She said the smell of alcohol was heavy on his breath, and that was probably 12 hours without anything to drink. She said he apologized to her for soiling himself. He told Ron that he'd come down to check on his car battery and that he hadn't been out of his condo in 3 days. He fought them on calling 911, said that he just wanted to go back upstairs. She and the other neighbor (Ron) fought right back and called anyway.

She said that he gave her permission to list her name/number as a person to contact. She said that she called him and talked to him while he was in the hospital. he told her he was being transferred to a larger hospital that had the equipment they needed to treat him. He thought he was going to BJC (would have been his preference), but instead he was taken to SLU. She did not know this, so once he was transferred both she and Ron called the area hospitals trying to find him, but they had no luck. Ron tried to track me down, but couldn't remember my first name. They both said they'd tried to figure out how to get in his condo to find contact information from me. After we left, I realized that they could have just went and opened his door, knowing now that he had left it unlocked.

Once she left, I just walked over and collapsed on his car door. I was completely drained and really felt like I'd been hit by a truck. We did exchange phone numbers and she made it clear she was happy to talk with me again. I definitely want to. It was so helpful to talk to her.

Not only do I now know he was in good hands, but I know that he had no ill-will toward me that day. No mention of "don't you dare call Stacey. I don't want her to know." I never thought that was the case, but it had crossed my mind. But it made me feel so much better to know that he talked about me in a positive light. Not for my own selfishness or self-esteem, but simply to know that he still thought, after all that had happened, that I was a good person, and one that he could count on. I made comments in an earlier post that maybe he would have just told me to get the hell away had I shown up at the hospital. I now know that wouldn't have happened, and am grateful for that knowledge, but now I feel so sad that if I had known, he most likely would have welcomed me. I think, simply, that he was very sick. After we talked, and I admitted to his alcoholism, Shannon even said "I bet he just wanted to get back upstairs so it would end there." And I can see that. What I realized later that day was that he had SEEN himself jaundiced. It was very evident to Shannon and Ron, so he HAD to see it when he looked in the mirror. He had to know what was happening, if not immediately, then soon. And I wonder what he thought about that. Did it scare him? Did it worry him? Did it bring relief? Did he even process what was happening? 

Regret

This has been bugging me, and it works its way into my thoughts daily. I don't necessarily feel guilt, for anything really. But I do feel regret. For not knowing he was in the hospital for so long. I know that was completely out of my control and there was absolutely nothing I could have done about it, but the scenarios I've played out in my head, had I known...well I just wish I'd known.

Was he lonely during that time? Was he even alert? Aside from the day the dr called to tell me he was headed to the ICU, I never really talked to anyone about what happened during those first 10 days.

I could have visited. Maybe not daily, but I could have stopped by to let him know someone cared. It's very possible he didn't want anyone there, even me, maybe even ESPECIALLY me, and I get that. I'm sure there was a phone in his room. I'm sure at some point he was cognizant enough that he could have reached out if he'd wanted, or had a nurse call.  But maybe not. The encephalopathy caused by the hepatitis left him very confused.

I could have taken the kids to see him. They could have seen him ALIVE. They could have said goodbye. Maybe seeing them would have given him incentive to fight and to try to get better. But, was that already a losing battle anyway? He deteriorated while in the hospital. I suppose he was heading for death, regardless of his possible motivation to change his behaviors.

We could have talked. Well, I could have talked. Getting Dan to talk on a GOOD day was almost impossible. But yes, I could have talked. I could have looked him in the eye and TALKED to him and known that he heard me. Selfish? Maybe, but I think I earned it. I would have told him the same things I told him while he was in the ICU but maybe he would have responded. Maybe he would have told me to get the hell away and not come back, or maybe he would have told me that he loved me too.

I don't regret anything about making the final decision that led to him moving out. I knew that, despite so many telling me I'd gone above and beyond, that I wasn't ready to throw in the towel. It wasn't time, until it was. And I can look back at that time and feel not good, but at least content that I'd tried everything I knew to try, and had essentially run out of options.

Same thing with moving from separation to divorce. I don't regret the timing of it. I was content for quite awhile and saw no good reason to move quickly so I didn't. Until I met Justin, and knew that I was ready to move forward. And my meeting Justin, encouraged some bad behavior from Dan, which made me realize that was the right time to move towards divorce. If I hadn't met anyone, maybe we'll still just be separated. Or maybe not. But regardless, I don't regret it.

But not getting to spend more time with him in his last few weeks, I regret it so much that it hurts. To not have had the opportunity to what, I don't know. But I didn't have it, so we'll never know. And no, I don't think that I could have miraculously turned him around during that time. But we could have said our peace. Or I could have, at least one last time. And I did get to...I just wish it had been when he had the opportunity to respond. 

sad

Blah, things are moving along, away from the day he died, and then BAM something slams into me, or one of my kids and it takes me back there, and back to him in general.

Last night, S mentioned that for my birthday on Sunday we should go out to dinner. I told her that was a great idea, as long as I got to pick, since it was MY bday. She (thankfully!) agreed, and then said "and when it's Father's Day, Justin can pick where HE wants to go." And then she moved on to the twins b-day and then to hers. But my head, and heart, were stuck on the comment she made about J.

How can she easily forget D? How? I played out different scenarios in my head about what she meant. I *hope,*although realize it's most likely not the case, that she said that about J simply because he's a father, not because she was not thinking about her own.

I mentioned it to him last night and he said that C and S have seemed to seek him out more since D died. A always has--they're most definitely buds and have been from the start, but there's been a change with the other two, especially S. He said maybe they've transferred their feelings about Dan to Justin. And I lost it. Although it may be true, and ultimately what I knew would happen, it's not even been three weeks.

It's not fair to Dan that they are doing this. He was their dad. IS their dad. God damn this just breaks my heart. And why in the HELL is this bothering me so much, after he put me through so much. He's their DAD. And while he was alive the possibility of being a good dad was always there. Now that he's not though, my children, HIS children, are ready to forget him.

I know this is healthy. I just didn't expect it to happen so quickly. And, at the same time as S is making this "transition" to J, she's having a lot of somatic complaints that I realized last night are from her grief. At school the last two days her teacher told me she's been VERY quiet, and also for the past few days she's been complaining of stomach aches and headaches. Physically, there's no good reason (and I see no evidence to the contrary) that she would have these. It's her little heads way of processing. Two nights ago she asked me to hold her and she wrapped her self up really tight in her blanket and just cuddled with me. This is not S lol. And then last night, she was tearful for the better part of an hour because her had and belly hurt.

I realized last night that the twins will not remember Dan. Nothing concrete anyway. Nothing other than "he is ashes." I'm so glad I took as many pictures as I did, although now it doesn't seem nearly enough.

April 16

I've been avoiding this post. But I'm feeling completely surrounded by D this morning, like he's all around me, so I may as well just dive in and do this.

April 16 started at 3:30 am with a call from the ICU dr. They had strict instructions to call me with any negative status changes so of course when I heard the phone, I assumed the worst. I sat up in bed, Justin right after me, just holding me and rubbing my back. i hadn't even answered the phone yet and I was already cursing myself for leaving him alone that night. The dr told me that Dan's hemoglobin levels had dropped and he suggested a transfusion. A what? In the past 5 days we had never discussed this. This was also not Dr. P, but an ICU resident. At 3:30 that morning, I'm not sure where the clarity came from to ask questions, reasonable questions, not emotionally distraught ones.

Knowing with almost 100% certainty that life support would be turned off soon, it didn't make sense to me to give a transfusion. In my mind, it just didn't make sense, but then there was still the teeny tiny "what if" in the back of my mind. And, the question kept floating around in my head, but my mouth wouldn't speak it "if we are turning off life support, is this procedure necessary??"  At 3:30 am, with just minutes to make a decision, it didn't seem like a reasonable solution. I also had the clarity to let the dr know I needed to talk to Mike before making the decision. I assumed he'd be on the same page and want me to say no. I wasn't going to battle him on this one. I knew in my heart it wouldn't help.

I called him and he didn't answer, but called back just a few minutes later. I relayed my discussion with the dr. Mike said what do you want to do? We'll let them do the transfusion, right?

What the what? This was Mike. Ever practical and realistic, holding on to the very last shred of hope to save his brother. After him letting me make all the calls up til now, of course I was going to let him have this one, and I never let on that I would have been ok with NOT doing it. Looking back thought, I am SO glad we did it. It certainly didn't hurt anything, and if we hadn't, I would have always wondered. So I called the dr back to give him the ok, and then had to follow procedure of talking to two other "witnesses" since I was agreeing via phone. 

Just another grey area surrounding DNR. We never talked about transfusions. About if a few pints of blood might save his life, would he want it.

This was playing on the radio on my way to the hospital to see him that morning. I was trying hard to get there in time to hear the drs rounding on him. This song has reminded me of him for years. YEARS. "Do you still feel the pain of the scars that won't heal." I always knew it would have significant meaning to me. Always. And here it was. My head was in denial though. I thought "is this the day he will die?" And then "no way. It's not happening today. Dr. P said that it would take a few days. This might be the beginning of the end, but today is not the end."

Once I arrived, I learned that there was not much change, except for the transfusion, which had gone as planned. His creatinine levels continued to slowly rise.

Dr. P came and talked to me. We talked about the transfusion. He apologized for the entire situation. He told me that he hadn't discussed the possibility of a transfusion because he didn't think it would ever come in to play. He said if he had been working, he would never have called me. He said that while he completely understood why I had agreed to it, that going forward he would suggest no more transfusions, as it was an effort in futility.

And then he dove into the topic of the day. That there was nothing more we could do for Dan. That we needed to focus on him being comfortable, and begin/continue the conversation re: his wishes and where he was now. He assured me that once the time came, he would be in no pain. They would give him meds ever 5 minutes if needed, but he would not suffer. And there it was again, me all alone, against this dr. I knew he wasn't against me. I knew he was speaking the truth. But, how was this my life? How? how was *I* the person responsible for basically killing someone else. For  making the decision to take my children's father away from them. It was me. And honestly, I didn't mind the responsibility itself. In my heart (and head) I knew that I was the only one that Dan would want making these decisions. It made sense, and I was happy to take that on for him, but it was more of a "I'm 40 fucking years old and faced with this decision. HOW?"

So I sobbed. And sobbed. And sobbed. And Dr P just stood there rubbing my back. The nurses were crying too. On the 2nd day in ICU, he'd been moved to a medical ICU floor, from the Neuro ICU floor he'd been on. ALthough I had tunnel vision in those few days, it seemed like the majority of the patients were older, some with few if any visitors. Dan was 45, with a picture of his 3 little kids next to him. With flowers that Sophie had picked on that Sat when I first got the call in a baggie resting on his chest. With a rosary that a friend's little boy had made next to his head. With a Blues pin attached to his hospital gown. This was someone who had the WORLD to live for. The FUCKING WORLD and he was incapacitated in the ICU with his liver and kidneys failing and god only knows what going on in his bowels. These were hanging in his room. It was just so SO appropriate for him. And the funny thing? I had brought them on the 15th. I sat up in bed that morning and said "Where's his fucking marine flag? I think it's in the garage." I knew that if he was going out, he'd do it surrounded by things he loved. I stumbled out of bed and Justin stopped me and said "no, I'll get them." I told him he didn't know where to look, but yet he came back with these 4 items that just about summed Dan up better than anything else could.  We had made him a person, not a patient, and the nurses couldn't stop their own tears.

Dr P left me alone and M, C and H showed up soon after.  I briefly discussed my convo with Dr P, and then Mike asked if I wanted to talk alone. We went out into the hallway, where he once again told me he was on my side and would agree to whatever I needed. He also told me he was ready to remove Dan from life support as soon as I gave the ok. He wasn't pushing; I never felt like he pushed me into anything, or tried to change my mind about a decision I'd made. I told him that I was almost ready, but that the closer it got to that point, the harder it was.

I went back in the room and sat next to Dan again, and grabbed his hand and just cried. I didn't know it was possible for someone to cry so much. More bloodwork was done; labs came back. There was either no change, or change in a negative direction. Dr P came in again and talked with us, mostly to Mike as he had not been there for our earlier conversation. I listened. I cried more. Mike told the dr to give us a few more hours.

He came back in about 1:30 I think. Suddenly, it was just me and Dr P and Mike in the room. We revisited the same stuff, me sitting next to Dan, the Dr. standing across from me. Mike at the foot of the bed. Dr P again brought up his DNR status. Telling me again he could live indefinitely in the state he was.  He told me that he'd seen patients, once life support was removed live for days, and others (who he expected to survive for quite a while), die almost instantly. There was no predicting what might happen. He reminded me that they'd make Dan comfortable, giving him Morphine around the clock, if that was necessary.

In my head, I was almost there. I looked at him and knew that he wouldn't want to be this way. I joked that he was mother fucking me as we sat there, knowing that I'd put him in this situation. I knew it was the right thing to do. I knew I had a family to take care of, and job to not get fired from. I needed to take care of his children. But yet, there was their dad, and I was faced with this god awful decision.

I looked at Dr P and said "I know you've said it before, but please tell me again. There's no way he can get better." He came over and knelt beside me. On his hand, he ticked things off as he mentioned them. His infection. Possible issues with his bowels. He's bleeding somewhere we can't pinpoint. His liver. At this point he mentioned that Dan was not a candidate for a liver transplant. This was not the first discussion about this. Anytime ANYONE made this comment, I quickly followed up with "he wouldn't WANT a new one." This time, Mike chimed in "and let's face it, there are so many others that should be in line before him." I shot him the look of death and just told him to shut up, which he did. Dr P continued. His kidneys.  They'd tried what they could. They'd hoped they could pull him through. They couldn't.

I think I just shook my head up and down. I think I might have said "ok." Someone confirmed with me that I was ready. I was. The dr left to set things in motion. Mike left me alone. I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut over and over and over. Finally, every was back in the room. Mike had briefed them. A few minutes later, Dr P and the two nurses came back in. The gave him a shot of morphine right away. This was really the beginning of the end. Dr P told everyone to go to the waiting room. I knew this was expected of me, but I couldn't go. There was no way I was leaving him at that point. Dr P knew there was no arguing with me. He'd already warned me of what might happen after extubation, some coughing, sounds of choking as the tube was being pulled out. I was ok with that. I was just not going to leave him. They did make me move to a chair in the corner of the room.

I remember looking at the clock. He was extubated very close to 2:15. There was no coughing. No choking sounds. It went as well as it could I suppose. I remember looking for non-verbals between Dr P and the nurses, trying to figure out if it was going as planned. His eyes opened, and stayed fixed. Much like you would expect of someone who was already dead. I remember thinking this. I remember thinking that maybe we should shut his eyelids. I also remember thinking that this was the last time I'd be able to see his eyes and it didn't matter to me how he looked. He was making a gurgling sound in his throat. I've read about this since then, commonly known as a "death rattle." I had heard this phrase before, but didn't realize that it meant that death was immiment.

M, C and H came back in. Mike immediately commented on his eyes---they were making him uncomfortable, so the nurse closed them. I remember being pissed about this. The gurgling noise was upsetting C (it DID sound horrible), and the nurse just explained it away as normal in the state he was in.

The nurse turned off the monitor that was tracking his heart, lungs, etc. I asked her to turn them back on. She seemed shocked and told me she could monitor him at the nurses station. Luckily, H chimed in that she'd like to see them too, and so the monitor was turned back on.

I was next to him again, C right behind me with her hands on my shoulders. H was across from me, on Dan's other side. Mike was pacing.

I first noticed his heart rate. Big spikes then flat, big spikes then flat. I kept looking from the monitor to him. Back and forth back and forth. I was holding his hand with both of mine. I kept looking at his chest. He was still breathing. And then I looked at the monitor and his respirations said 0. I remember saying what the hell, he's not breathing. C said "oh I think he is, just not enough to be picked up by the monitor." I didn't believe her. I looked across at H, who although not a dr may as well be. She looked confused. What in the fuck was going on. His respirations were 0. His heart rate was flat. But the other monitor, can't remember what it was, something was still "there." At this point, I didn't realize I had completely latched on to his forearm and I was moving him a bit, which was keeping something "going" on the screen. H told me to let go of him, which I did, and everything went flat. H said "he's gone. I think he's gone." C was in denial. She said no. I said "yes, he's done. That's it. He's done."

It had taken 20 minutes. That was it. He was ready. His body was ready. I found out after the fact, that immediately after extubation, his lungs were already down to 30%. One of the two organs that we didn't think were failing him, clearly did.

The dr came in about 10 minutes later. He checked his heart and his pulse and looked over at me and whispered "He's gone. I'm so sorry." I said "you said it might take 48 hours." In my head, I had planned on that time. I hadn't expected my time with him to be ripped so short. He just apologized and said there was no way to predict, which my head knew, but my heart wasn't happy with.

The chaplain came in and offered a nice prayer. He asked where "the body" needed to be transported to. I let Mike deal with that. Dan was officially "a body" but yet I hadn't stopped holding his hand.  We stayed for close to an hour, I think, getting a plan together for the rest of the day. Finally, everyone started packing things up. Putting the kids pictures away. Taking the things that had been surrounding him. The jerseys came down. The shoes he was wearing the day he was admitted came out of the drawer. "Do you want them?" I wasn't sure, but I wasn't ready to leave them. Leaving him was enough. The shoes are still in the trunk of my car.

C and H left with the bags. I walked out so M could have his time with Dan. When he was done, he told me to take as much time as I needed. I stayed for another 10 minutes I guess. I kissed him. I rubbed his head. It was already getting cold. I told him that I loved him. That I'd always loved him, and that I'd love him forever. I told him I would take care of our children. I told him that he should never worry about that. I told him I was so sorry that I had to leave him there. That I was so sorry that I couldn't save him, as I had promised his mom in the letter I wrote to her after she had died.

And then I left him.

We'd all made a plan to meet for a drink, to serve as a "transition" for me between leaving the hospital and picking up my kids. I already had a friend ready to babysit, as I had expected to be spending the night in the hospital, so we all planned to meet at one of his favorite restaurants after I got the kids home.

It was nice. It was as he would have wanted. It was me, C, H and her husband and Mike. Around 8, J sent me a text trying to find out where I was. I told him I was finishing a beer, so he came to meet us. I have never been so happy to see him. I saw him walking through the restaurant trying to find our table. Once M saw him, he popped out of the booth so J could sit down. He just grabbed me and held me and there I was sobbing again. Nothing could take my pain away, but him being there helped to "steady" me. I knew he'd take care of me. And he did. And he once again made a potentially awkward situation normal. There he was, sitting with Dan's brother and cousin (whom he'd never met), and it didn't phase him. Thank God for him, that's all I can say.

I'm exhausted. There's more to say, but need to do it another time.

April15

This was the day that started the end of everything.

I got to the hospital about 9, to sit with him for a while before M got there. It was actually soothing for me to be there by myself, with him. I talked to him, I kissed his forehead, rubbed his arm. I pulled up a chair next to the bed, and grabbed his hand. I noticed that he didn't respond in anyway, not his head moving a bit, not his hand. I squeezed it several times but got nothing in return. I noticed his hands were extremely bloated. They'd been swollen before, but that morning they were clearly changed, his feet too. It was indicative of his kidneys slowly starting their shut down.

I was with him for an hour or so before Mike showed up, and then one of my bffs C showed up as well, completely unannounced, but thank GOD for her. She was my rock for the rest of my journey through this hell.

Dr P came in not long after that. I think I mentioned before, but we had really bonded, starting with our first meeting on Saturday. He was young, maybe early 30's, and he cared. It was obvious. When he came in our room, I truly felt like Dan was his only patient. This morning, I sensed something was different the second he walked in. He was always soft and calming with his words, but on this day nothing could calm me. He talked about Dan's progress through the night, same as every other morning he came to check in. Then, he looked at me, actually he rarely took his eyes off mine as he was speaking. I remember just being drawn to him, knowing he had full power to save Dan, and that his words, whatever he spoke were the truth. This will sound odd, really odd, but now that I think about it, he was really my God for those few days. I have to imagine what I felt for him, the trust I put in him, was how people who are religious feel about God.

He looked at me, after that first discussion of how the night had gone, and gently, slowly and quietly told me there was nothing left for them to try. That although they had thought they could see him through this, his body was not responding to the medicines. They'd officially tried everything and there was no hope. And I thought I was going to die myself. His words knocked the air out of me. And I cried and cried and cried. And thank God C was there with me.

He told me that it was time to think about making him comfortable, that we needed to move from treating him to making him comfortable. He gently told me that Dan could live for months the way he was then (on the vent), but reminded me that it's not what he wanted.  And then he came over to me and hugged me. And I sobbed.

Dr P also mentioned that they had sedated him the night before, which is why he didn't respond to me. M asked, after the discussion of turning off life support, could we lower his sedation meds so that he might be responsive. The dr basically said no and that our job was to make him comfortable and it would serve no useful purpose.

After that, in the next few hours we talked about what would happen and when. I was beyond exhausted. Once hearing those words from the dr, I made up my mind that I was going to spend the night. I made some calls, got my kids taken care of, and was in it for the long haul. In the end, as the day wore on and I could barely focus, I asked to talk to Dr P again. I asked if he had any reason to think that Dan wouldn't make it through the night. Not guarenteeing anything, he said that as long as they maintained what they were doing, there was no reason to think he wouldn't survive the night.

His cousin and her husband from New York came in late that morning. I'm so glad she was there. Dan always thought of her more as a sister than a cousin and they connected much better than he and his brother ever had.

All along, even though he was next of kin, M really let me take the lead in making decisions. I knew in my head, as I left him that night, that we would take him off life support the next day. It made sense. It's what he would have wanted. C had mentioned to me that this was just one of my responsibilites...that I was also a mother and I had a job and this could not go on forever. I also heard Dr P's voice telling me once that happened, we might expect him to survive a few days.  So I went home to rest up and get some good sleep, in preparation for the next few days with him, never intending to leave. I had been told on a previous night that I couldn't spend the night in his room. That I could sleep in the waiting room and pop in and out of ICU, but that I couldn't set up camp in his room. Once Dr P delivered the news, I just simply said "once it gets to that point (meaning vent turned off), I don't plan to leave him. Is that ok?" And he gave his permission for me to stay. So that's what I was going to do.

Completely drained

What a fucking day.
It started well. I got kids to school on time and made it in time for a 9 am meeting. I felt very motivated and "on." After meeting, I had to call the crematory place. When I was there yesterday, I learned that 1) the dr hadn't signed the death cert, despite the fact that legally they need to do so in 72 hours. 2) Dan's brother hadn't signed the authorization to cremate form. I called to check on status of both, and learned they were still trying to get in touch with both Dr and M.

I got a call about 2 pm saying that the dr had signed, and had sent on to vital records, but that they'd left 3 message for M and he hadn't responded. I was livid. I mean, WHY? What's so hard? So I called him a left a message. It's almost impossible for me to say "cremate" out loud, in regards to Dan. I just can't do it. And I was trying not to be a bitch on the phone, but I just about lost it and got really emotional. The message told him that the dr had signed, and now it was up to him, and that they couldn't do what they needed to do until they heard from him.

And what it felt like I was saying is "I'm begging you to destroy the body of my children's father. Please, let's burn him until there is no more." And again, I was sobbing.

It just hurt so badly to think of them doing that to him. And, what doesn't make ANYTHING better is that when his mom died, M and I went to see her there, before her cremation. We didn't pay for the 1 hour family friendly viewing. We saw her, no lie, as M said "feet first, getting ready to be rolled in." There are 3 cremation stations in one large room, so they can actually cremate 3 people at one time, in individual machines. So, I can picture this now. I can picture his face as I last saw him, and I can picture him being rolled in, and the door closing and I cannot fucking DEAL with it. I just can't.

So, I came home and crawled in bed, and obsessed about it.

And a friend is making a slide show for his memorial. She emailed today asking for several of his favorite songs to add to the DVD. So I took a trip down THAT memory lane. Listening to our favorite music, reliving places and times when it had been so important to us.

Then, after I got kids home from school and was dealing with dinner his old bff S called. He called to tell me I'd done a good job with the obituary and had said some nice things. Um, no. Obituaries are not nice. They are tradition, for a crappy situation. You can't make an obit nice. You just can't. And he later when on to clarify that he was referring to the mention of his military history. Well, he served you idiot. Why would I NOT mention in. He kept going, and was really irritating me (and mind you, I like S alot--always have). Dan didn't deserve you. You were too good for him. You've been amazing through all this. No one else would have done what you did. And I was floored. It felt like he was spitting on his grave. It was wrong on so many levels. He said that he'd get a good showing at the memorial by his old friends, but it felt like he was saying that Dan didn't deserve it. He told me that he and his wife (a friend also) would be there on Thursday, but it was to support me, not Dan. I was stunned and speechless, honestly. It wasn't registering how someone could be saying these things to me, about him. My only real rebuttal was that I will defend to the day I die, that he never did anything with mean intention or maliciousness. He was at the mercy of a mental illness that he could not control.

And finally, the icing on the fucking cake...S asked me if daddy was going to be at the memorial on Thursday. She didn't mean a living daddy, she meant his body. I told her no and she asked why. And so began the conversation about cremation. I knew it was going to happen, so I was a bit prepared, but I don't think you can ever be fully prepared to discuss this with a 5 year old. i told her that some people want to be buried in the ground after they die, and some people want their bodies to be turned into ashes, and that was what daddy wanted. She asked what ashes were. I told her they were sort of like sand, or flour. I told her that they would put daddy's body in a special machine that gets very warm and after an hour or so, sort of like magic, his body would be transformed into ashes. No use of the words heat or burning, but it is REALLY hard to explain it without those words, especially after my mental state today! And then, I told her once that had happened, the people that worked at the funeral home would put the ashes that had been daddy into a box for us to bring home. She did NOT grasp this. I told her some people liked to keep the box forever and ever and other people actually wanted there ashes to be placed in places that were special to them. She said she didnt have any questions, so I assume that was good enough for a first pass.

We went to see him

These posts are going to be all out of order, but it makes sense in my head to get it out when I need.

Yesterday, Sunday, the I took the kids to see Dan for the last time. We overslept, well not really, but I had wanted to get up earlier than I did. We were rushing around with breakfast, getting dressed. I was about to lose it. Justin was there, and went with us. God love him, he seems perfect, except that he is often late. I am the person that has to be early.  And, we only had an hour to spend with Dan. I didn't want that cut short because we were late. I'd given the kids warning...we're leaving in 45 minutes, 30 minutes...these warnings had been for him too. He freaking got in the shower at the time I had wanted to leave. I was a wreck and seriously wanted to tear into him, but that wouldn't have been helpful, so instead I cried. I cried all the way there. We were only 5 minutes late, and once we arrived I realized there was clearly no rush, and they let us stay as long as we wanted, which, with 3 young kids, was about 1.5 hours.

I thought long and hard about letting them see him. When I was little, I dealt with alot of death, alot of mourning, and it scared the shit out of me for the longest time. I didn't want to traumatize my kids in ANY way, but they are three very distinct people and are dealing with this in very different ways.

Side note: He will be cremated, so was not embalmed.

They wheeled his body (trying to use "body" and not his name or daddy to help us all detach, but it's hard) into a small visiting room. They had put a nice blanket over his body so that all we could see was his face. As I got closer to the room, kids and Justin behind me, I could see in, and saw the blanket first and then his face and I lost it. The person that worked there asked me if I wanted him to stay in the room with me and I told him no, but that I needed time by myself before my kids came in. So he left, shut the door, and I just nearly lost my mind. Of course, I had been with him when he died, and saw his body then, but there is NOTHING like the finality of death as seeing the persons body, with no evidence of life left. And this was my once best friend, the father of my kids, who I had sacrificed myself for, dead, in front of me, and all I could think of was how much I fucking missed him. God, that feeling was just horrible. Actually, there were no words for what I felt at that point.

Once I gathered myself, I looked more closely at him. They'd put some make up on him, which was fine with me. I actually was pleased with his appearance, especially for my kids sake. To me, there was no real evidence of the jaundice. He did truly look like he was sleeping. Curious as I am, I peeked under the blanket. He still had the hospital gown on. They had his arms crossed over his chest, the IV was still in his arm.

I rubbed his head, I kissed his forehead. He was so cold. It was the first dead body I'd ever touched.

I opened the door to give the kids the opportunity to come in. S came in first, and I picked her up so she could see him. She's experienced a death before, and really understands the concept in general, so honestly this was more for her than the twins. I'd told her previously that we could see daddy again, and three separate times she said she wanted to. She didn't cry...I didn't expect her to, she just looked and cuddled up with me.

C came in, relatively unphased, as I expected. This was actually really good for him I think. Before seeing Dan, he really had no idea what was going on. He certainly doesn't get death. I picked him up and walked up close and he was totally ok. We talked about the fact that even though daddy looks like he's sleeping, he'll never open his eyes again, and that he can't talk to us. Throughout the time there, he was really in and out of the room, with no obvious trauma of seeing his dad in that way. He did, and even though it's gut wrenching for me I know it's good for him, start saying "daddy will never, ever open his eyes, NEVER again." 

A had the most issues, and is having the most issues in general. She had woken up angry that morning, which is completely out of character for her. You can count on her to always have a smile on her face. She also requires alot of "transition" time, when faced with a new experience. She and Justin are buds, so he sat down in the floor, right outside the room with Dan, with the door open. She'd walk up to the door, peek in, and then walk away. Gradually, she got to the point where she was sitting in his lap and had the ability to see Dan. Finally, she walked in the room with me. She never let me pick her up in there. She always stayed back, but that was ok. That's what she needed, and what her little brain would allow her to do.

Before we left home, I picked three flowers for them to give Dan. A also picked a dandelion for him:) They had all colored a picture as well. I held Connor while he told me where to place his flower, on Dan's chest. This was also where Sophie and Avery wanted their pictures. Connor's picture went next to his head, along with the dandelion, and on the other side were Avery and Sophie's flowers. I also had written him a short letter that morning and put it in envelope that I put on his chest as well. Below is Sophie's picture. I just love it, and it breaks my heart all at the same time.

We talked with the kids alot about the fact that he can't see us or talk to us, but that he can hear us. And that the funeral home was not the only place we can talk to him. If we're at home, and scared and want to talk to him, we can. If something fun happens and we want to tell daddy, we can! And although he can hear us, he just can't respond. We also talked about the fact that "he will ALWAYS be your daddy. NOTHING can change that." Before we left, both of the twins said "bye daddy. I love you."

We're not religious people. I'm not opposed to the concept of heaven, but when I've never talked to my kids about it before, their dads death did not seem like the best time to introduce. I'm very practical, and want to stick with things that they can grasp and that seem real to them. Can he hear us? I don't know. I'd like to think he can. And, I don't think there's any harm in letting them think that...after all...it might be true.  And, when I think about others who I've been close to that have died, like my grandmothers, I'd like to think that they are watching over me, seeing who I am, what type of person I've become. I want my kids to think that way about their daddy.  

At one point, I was sitting on the couch in the room with Dan.  He was to my left, and Justin was sitting right outside the door on the floor, facing us, so he was to my right. How is this my life? Deceased ex-husband on one side and amazing boyfriend on the other.

It got to the point when the kids were getting antsy. Justin told me he'd take them to the car for me, so I could spend a few more minutes alone with Dan. S ended up staying with me, and he took the twins.

I just didn't want to leave him. I knew I had to. I KNEW it. I willed him to wake up. I can't stand the idea of what they are going to do to his body. But I know it's not different then burying someone. And I understand cremation, I get it, and am "for" it, but just not with him. I want to keep him forever. Not his body lol...I just want him to WAKE UP. FUCK this is so hard. 

And then I wonder, if given the chance, if he could really be given a second chance, would he do anything differently? Would he turn his life around? That conversation happened several times in the hospital "if he gets out of this, if we can get him healthy again, will he turn his life around, or will he go back to the old routine?" We'll never know of course, but even though I knew him on so many levels, I didn't think he had the strength to even want to get better. I think it was always a battle that he was going to lose.

April 11

I received a call from a dr on Saturday morning, about 10:30, stating that she was calling in regards to Dan, that he'd been in the hospital and at this point needed to be moved to the ICU. He had been diagnosed with liver failure and had spiked a fever that they couldn't get down.

He was at one of our local hospitals that he would NEVER have gone to on his own...which is why it hadn't occurred to me to call this particular one when I called the others. The dr told me the following story, the beginning having been told by Dan. Other parts the dr added; some parts I filled in missing pieces. At some points, the info is still missing. Now, it just doesn't matter.

He went down to his car on April 1 to check out his car battery (this is odd). He fell in the parking lot, and lay there for a few hours. He could not physically make it back into his building, so somehow managed to crawl in his car, where he spent the night. Passed out or sleeping, I'll never know. The next day, his neighbor found him and called 911, who took him to one hospital. I'm not certain he ever made it out of the ER there, and was instead transferred to the other hospital, that could provide a higher level of care. He was admitted on April 2, and NO ONE FREAKING CALLED ME UNTIL APRIL 11.  But then, why would they. I assume he told them he didn't want anyone to know. It wasn't until he needed to be moved to the ICU (for the fever), that they started looking for someone, to validate what he initially told them his wishes were.

Upon admission, he had told them his story, and declared himself DNR, but the encephalopathy caused by the liver failure left him VERY confused and they didn't feel confident that he knew what he was saying/agreeing to.

So, after the dr told me where he was, why he was there, she asked me if I knew his wishes. I swear to you, I SWEAR, I wanted to lie. I wanted to lie so badly. I knew what he wanted...although over the next several days I realized how LITTLE I knew about what he wanted. I wanted to tell her I didn't know. I wanted to buy some time so I could decide if I should lie. But, I didn't. Through my sobbing, I told her that he was DNR, "but that he has three kids." And then I completely broke down, alone in my bedroom, dr still on the phone, while our kids were playing in the backyard, completely oblivious to what was going on. I could hear their sweet voices through the open window. Thank god for a fenced in yard, because for many minutes, I know I would not have been capable of helping them.

I have felt like I signed his death sentence many times before. But this time, this time I had told someone who would hold me to it, should it come to that. It was beyond unbelievable to me that I was in this situation. 

The dr kept mentioning that she knew I was shocked. In truth, as I told her, the shocking part wasn't this situation, but that I had been so certain he'd left town. I'd expected a call from a jail in Florida, not from a dr 10 miles away. In my head, I'd been preparing myself for this call for years. Ironically enough, I'd recently told a few friends that he seemed to be in a good place. He came to visit twice after Christmas, and there was evidence of future planning in his head. He had talked about being worried about his money running out, and then he needed to get a job. I told my friends I'd spent the year prior worrying about his safety, and it was now, at a time like this, when he seemed to be ok, that he was going to surprise me with something bad. And he did.

The next few hours were a blur. I called Justin. I called a friend who was able to come babysit so I could get to the hospital. There was never a thought in my mind that I wouldn't go. Of course I would go. I told A and S that daddy was really really sick and I needed to go see him. I saw something in S's face, that told me that she knew this was serious. Such an insightful little girl.

He was yellow. So yellow. My first thought when I saw him was "he's so yellow he's almost orange" which at the time didn't make any sense to me. But that's how he looked.  His temp was about 102.5. He had some IVs in. Clearly hot and clammy. Otherwise, he mostly looked like he was sleeping. He was conscious, but not alert. I grabbed his hand, told him I loved him and that I was there, but there was no response.

It was an awkward situation for me, as the ex-wife, to be there. At the time, I wasn't sure if I was his power of attorney. I had been at some point, but had assumed that dissolved with divorce. I learned later that it hadn't.

Later that afternoon his dr., who I grew to love over the next few days, came to tell me he was at risk for aspirating. For that reason alone, and NOT because his lungs were failing, he suggested intubation. At the time, I didn't realize what that was.  I knew it was a tube, but I didn't realize it meant a "vent" would be used. To me, I simply didn't want him to choke to death and so gave my ok...which started the gray area over his DNR wishes.

His brother came in later that day as well. During his entire ICU stay the "focus" kept changing. The immediate concern had obviously been his liver failure, but most acutely worrisome was the fever they couldn't keep down. At some point, bowel perforation was a concern, and ultimately kidney failure. But on that day, it was the fever.

Dr P told me that he thought he could pull through. He saw no reason why they couldn't get him out of this. Instead of "liver failure" which of course it was, Dr P put a new name to it...acute alcoholic hepatitis.

He's dead

There's no way to sugarcoat the last 10 days. It's simply not possible. I'm hoping to get it all down here, over the next few days. For memories sake, to just get it out. I don't know.

He hadn't been to my house since Feb 21. On March 24, in response to persistent texting on my part, just checking on him, he responded with the text "The condo is fine. The bills are paid. I'm bed-ridden." What the what? Then started several days of constant texting/calling from me, checking on him, making sure he was ok. No response. It was Dan. It wasn't shocking to get no response, and I eventually got pissed off, chalking it up to his passive-aggressiveness. Creating drama, and letting others deal with the consequences. So I toned down the texting, but was obviously still concerned or I would have stopped altogether.

On April 6, I sent him a text and noticed that it didn't get delivered to his phone, so I called him. His phone was off/dead. This was NOT the norm for him. He may not respond, he may not call back...but he always kept his phone charged. I drove by his condo on April 7, in the morning. I noticed that his bedroom light was on, which was also odd for him to have a light on during the day. I drove back by after work, and the same light was still on. I called his friend who's a cop and asked if we could do a wellness check on him. We'd planned it for the next afternoon. I drove by again that next morning and saw the same light STILL on, and just got a really bad feeling. Cop friend and I texted and he was able to meet me there about 45 minutes later.

When we got to his door we knocked, and no answer. We opened the door and David yelled his name several times, no response. Each time he yelled his name, and each time he didn't respond, my stomach dropped deeper and deeper. He was finally dead. Gross I know, but at the same time as this thought, I kept thinking, it would have been a while. If he was dead, we'd smell something. We finally walked in, and discovered he was not there. His car was there, but his keys, phone, wallet were missing. I was floored and stunned, but also had expected there might come a time when he left town, so it wasn't a huge shock. I went back over on Thurs and Fri after work, searching for something that might tell me where he was. There were no e-mail confirmations of hotel/flights. I found his charger. I found two medicine bottles, one was his depression meds. By the count, I assumed he'd stopped taking them about 6 weeks prior. There were no meds for his mania. For this reason I alone, it made the most sense to me that he'd left town.

David checked the jails in the city and surrounding areas. He called the city morgue. I called the two hospitals that he'd most likely go to, if he'd gotten sick or someone found him and called 911. He was no where. At the suggestion of a few friends, I had decided on that Monday afternoon that I would file a missing persons report. I felt strongly that he was at risk of hurting himself (and possibly others--unintentionally), and wanted him back home and stabilized on meds.

feeling bi-polar

I talked to D today. I received an e-mail from our condo property manager that another occupant of our building was complaining of a water leak and they couldn't get in touch with D. My first thought was negative, of course, thinking he was dead, and left the water running. Curiously, I realize after the fact I had never considered that he might try to drown himself. Just that he was passed out or dead and left water running. Anyway...

I called immediately and there was no answer. I sent a text which he received right away and called me back. He was sober. SOBER. I knew the second he said something to me. We talked about the water issue and that he had no idea what it might be, had heard no one knocking on his door, etc. Then, I asked how he was, and he said ok. I told him that he sounded good, and asked if he was attempting sobriety. He said that he is, but that each time he makes it any decent length of time he gets so sick and can't deal with it. I reminded him that he'd been warned about the dangers of trying to detox at home.

The convo was nearing an end and I just blurted out "do you plan to ever see your kids." He said he thinks about that 100 times a day, about S sitting on his lap, or the twins pretending to cut his hair. I lost it then and the tears started flowing. I told him that they loved him and missed him. He told me that it's been so long now, that the thought of seeing them causes him so much anxiety. I reminded him that they are 3 and 4 years old, and they aren't going to judge him, only love him. I told him that they know he is sick, but that's it. That they know he's been in the hospital, because that's how we ended up with Sierra at our house.

He said "I can't see them when I'm drunk, and I can't see them when I'm withdrawing." Those were my rules, but then he went on to say "They can't see me like that." Hello insight. He said that was really lonely, and that Sierra was the only thing that had kept him from being NOT lonely. I said "you realize what I haven't given her back, right?" He said "yeah, I can barely take care of myself, let alone anyone else." Again, insight. I was shocked.

We were both crying by then. He said he hoped he could get the sobriety he needed and go on to have a happy family. I told him that I hoped so too, and then we hung up.

I sent J a text saying that we'd talked, and he was sober and I was crying, lol. He called immediately and was floored that he was sober. I told him about the convo. He suggested he might be ready to try phone calls with the kids. Nothing planned, just "as wanted."  I thought it was a great idea, and seemed to be a good time. The first time I brought it up, he totally blew me off.  We DID talk about the question of whether it was good to "re" introduce D back into their lives, not knowing how consistent this would be. Although not 100% confident in my choice, at this point in time, and given they are phone calls and nothing more, I decided it was probably ok.

So I called D back about an hour later, asking his thoughts on that. He said "we'll see." Um, excuse me?!? You just told me how much you miss and think about your kids and I practically throw this opportunity in your lap and you say we'll see??? Now, I didn't say that, but you bet I was thinking it. He then went on to say "nagging me is not going to help." THAT pissed me off, totally hit a raw nerve and immediately took me back to being married to him when he would tell me to stop nagging. I told him that I wasn't nagging, that I was trying to give his children some communication/interaction with him. He said "isn't that what J is for"? OMG. I said YOU'RE their father.

It just went down hill, and we got nowhere. by the time we were off the phone, I was livid. I texted J to tell him what happened. Poor thing, he called me right back to talk about it. I told him I felt bi-polar just talking to D...how I could be so emotional in one way after the first call, and very pissed off after the second. He seriously just brings it out in me. J talked me off the ledge. I reminded him his was the 2nd time I'd suggested, and the 2nd time he'd shot it down. He did throw out another scenario...that this may be D's way of setting the stage TO leave. That by denying my request, he's passive aggressively telling me that he's done with the kids. I don't quite buy it, but it was a good theory and definitely food for thought. If it were just the twins and not S, I could see it more, be he adores (or at least used to adore) that girl. I can't say it's not his M.O., because passive-agressive should be his middle name.

Anyhoo...J and I circled back to the part of the convo where D had brought up his name. J said "you should tell him I want to adopt them and THEN see what he says." I was outside close to a busy street at this point, and didn't really process what he'd said for a second or two after he'd said it. But he didn't stop to get my reaction, just kept on talking. I wasn't shocked, but I was surprised to hear that from him. It won't necessarily hypothetical. He wouldn't have said it, if he hadn't entertained the idea.  Regardless, we didn't stop to talk about that, but now it's in my head...and has been a thought that I have entertained recently...somewhere down the line...

The good and the expected...

First, the expected...a high school friend of D's texted me the morning after he deactivated his FB account, saying that he'd sent her a "miss you" e-mail on FB just a few hours before his account was deactivated. She's lost a sibling to suicide, and was concerned. She said she'd talked with a few of their mutual friends to try to get them to check on him, but all said that he was in a secure building and they couldn't get in.  Cue contacting me. Long story short, I TOTALLY forgot that one of his childhood friends is a cop in the city that we live in. L (friend) had gotten DB (cop friend) to get a another cop to check on him, and was met with the same issue of not being able to get in the building.

So, DB called me on Thursday, asking what was going on. He was in our wedding, have seen him not even a handful of times since. D has always spoken highly of DB and his entire family so I honestly had no issues sharing some of what was going on with him, especially as a police officer. He told me that he'd tried to reach out to D several times, inviting him over for Thanksgiving, and D never responded. They saw each other at a hockey game a few years and go and D completely blew him off. They've always had the kind of relationship that they could just jump right in after a long hiatus, but even DB said it seemed like an effort in futility to try to remain in contact.

I still don't have a key to the outside of our condo building. I had to call the property manager, who manages multiple properties/tenants and tell him that D might not be in a good place, and I needed the cops to check on him. He was eager to help and told me that D had looked rough the last several times he'd seen him. I was shocked, given all he has to keep track of, that he even remembered, so it had to be bad.

I met him at the building. He opened the door for me, and I had to wait for the cops to come. They did, it took forever. D was there, he let them in, let them look around. They said there was no indication that he might hurt himself. He seemed very anxious. Which is normal for him. So that was that.

As I was sitting there waiting for them to come downstairs, I realized how fed up I was and how I DIDN'T want to be sitting there. I've done my time, right?

Earlier that day, I had driven over, trying to get a spare key from him, just so I could have it, since C lost mine. I sent him a few texts letting him know I was stopping by. Nothing. No response. And of course when I showed, he wouldn't answer to let me in, or bring the key down to me. I sent J a text when I was on my way there, just to let him know what i was doing. He immediately called me, begging me not to go. Telling me he was worried and didn't trust what D would do. He started crying. So, I stayed on the phone with him while I walked up to ring the buzzer so he'd have the peace of mind that I was ok. Then, I promised I'd never do it again.

I didn't hear from D all weekend. I texted today to ask if he was ok. He said yes he was and that I needed to take him off of my credit cards so that he can try and re-fi. He should have done this a year ago, per our separation agreement. The only reason he's doing it now is so that I don't have a say/connection to the condo. Fine, whatever. I DO need to take him off of the card, so I will do that. Then, he texts right back to say that he's about to have a heart attack and can he have Sierra back. I responded that if he was having a heart attack, he needed to go to the hospital.  More than likely, it's an anxiety attack. I didn't mention Sierra at all.

And then the good...J and I took my kids and O to the pumpkin patch on Sat. Good GOD 4 kids is ALOT of work, especially at a place like that. S and C were both in rare form. There were several times that I heard J say "go with mommy. go with Stacey." He told me on Sunday that that had morphed into "go with Mommy Stacey", which is how he is referring to me now with O. Obviously, I'm  not his mom, so J didn't want to throw him off by continuing to say mommy. I had heard him struggle with that throughout the day, so now I guess I'm Mommy Stacey:)

There has been no specific talk about future recently, and I'm ok with that. Things are good. But, still, I'm a female and I'm curious. And the fact that he has given this name for me, to his son, speaks volumes. Things are good:)

Well...

Drunk D strikes again.

I sent him a text Sunday, checking on him, asking if he went to psych appt, and if so what she did about the medicine he can no longer afford. He didn't respond.

Also, on Sunday, I posted a pic of me and J on FB. I should have known he'd lash out. I woke this morning to see a status update from him, saying something like "You get everything you want. The judge and the divorce decree said Sierra is mine. I still don't have my IRA money and that's illegal. Give me my dog or I'll see you in court."

My first instinct was to laugh...a huge change from my getting so instantly pissed that I wanted to throw my phone across the room. Progress, perhaps. I showed J. He pulled me over, sat me on his lap and just hugged me. I love him:)

I knew I'd respond, but I needed some time to pull together a response. I actually commented 3 separate times. and TRUST me, I thought of the repercussions (for him) in forming my response, but dude seriously, he's going to call me out like that and then expect me not to defend myself. My 1st response was something like:

Check the divorce papers. There is no mention of Sierra in there, and I was happy for you to have her, so long as you could take of her. However, you left her in your CAR for 21 hours, while you were in a bar. Due to circumstances associated with how much you drank, you left her in your car. Despite my best efforts of trying to contact you, via phone and text, you didn't tell me where she was. You COULDN'T respond? Fine. You could have let a hospital staff person tell me her whereabouts. We're lucky she's alive. You're lucky I didn't press animal cruelty charges. I'm happy to see you in court.

Comment 2: ps. It's been 18.5 weeks since you've seen your children.

Comment 3: Finally, re: the money. You're right. You do have an IRA that needs to be in your name. It got lost in the mess of changing accounts/transferring money. I realize it's legally yours. I also have to raise our 3 children for the next 18 years. I've done everything in my power to help you, more than any other sane person would have helped, including after we separated. For that reason alone, I thought you might take pity on me regarding the money.

I didn't tag him in my comments. I didn't want him alerted any sooner than needed that I had responded. I wanted his friends to see. I was pissed, but I was also so rational at the same time. I'm done wondering if it's the "right" thing to do, to respond to his posts so aggressively. I'm tired of babying him.  He acts, he needs to expect a response to his action.

Anyway, he deactivated his FB account a few hours later. I'm struggling with this. It was the only way I had to keep track of him. Was the only way I knew he was in the hospital, and thus knew that I needed to worry about Sierra. Granted, I have her now, and so there's not much more I need to know about...but still.

I worry that this is the beginning of his end. He had already cut himself off from so many, and now he's essentially cut ties with everyone he knows. This scares me.

I expect that he'll possibly leave town.

On a different note, a more positive one...J and I ran a 10k on Sunday. This the furthest I've ever run. And he was right there with me:) He finished about 30 seconds before me, and ran up and hugged me and kissed me. And regardless of the sweaty pig that I was, he told me I was so beautiful.

And he continues to talk about the future. He mentioned last week that he had some plans for my basement, down the road...wanting to build two bedrooms down there. The unspoken was that one of those two rooms would be for O. He mentions dealing with the boys that will undoubtedly come, considering my two daughters. He's all in. I still have an inkling of worry that he'll change his mind, but I've tried to push it as far back as I can, and certainly am not letting it frame the relationship in anyway.

At least weekly, I have a convo with S that starts with her telling me that he spends more time with O than with us. I remind her that 1) he doesn't, and that 2) he is his daddy and wants to spend as much time with him as possible. She usually accepts this explanation, but this weekend took it a bit further and said "he's not O's daddy. He's OUR daddy." OMG. This was out of left field, coming from her, who tends to be more stand offish to J than my other two are.  She has this internal struggle of wanting to dive in to a relationship with him (asking for hugs/playing) vs ignoring him and pretending like she doesn't care about him. Clearly, her own defense mechanism of being afraid of getting too close. I told her than no, J wasn't her daddy. That he was O's daddy, but that he liked spending time with us.

status quo, I suppose

Nothing too crazy to report. I've talked to D every other day or so. He's more and more clear and lucid, although I assume that's b/c he's out of Librium. We actually had a good discussion yesterday, and he gave me the ok to help him with his disability application. I've been wanting to, not to be in his business, but it's a hard system to navigate even when someone is mentally healthy. I made more progress in 20 minutes than he'd made in a year. Bottom line: it's not looking pretty. I spoke with a paralegal at a local firm who told me his application would be thrown out immediately b/c he is actively drinking. "They" want to see at least 6 months sobriety, in order to prove that the depression, mania, anxiety, PTSD is there in the absence of the drinking. It just really pisses me off. Alcoholism is a disease too, and at the very heart of it is the inability to stop. BUT, I do see the point of this stipulation also. 15 years ago, substance users needed only to prove that that was their dx. Now, it's not even. I have my MSW, as well as several of my friends. I cannot believe that between ALL of us, we did not know this.

So I called to tell him this. He said "well then I need to stop drinking." And I could FEEL us moving into that circular conversation where this is the topic, but no progress is made because we're talking, but not making decisions, or doing anything to move the issue forward. So frustrating, and I'm so glad that I don't have to worry about this every day. I suggested inpatient treatment. He shot it down saying he's done it before. I finally pulled the card in my back pocket. I told him that, right now, I didn't feel comfortable giving Sierra back to him. I don't feel like he can adequately take care of her. He didn't fight me. Maybe he expected it. Maybe he knows it himself. I was NOT as direct as I could have been, saying you are NOT getting her back. For good or bad, that's just not me. We ended the convo without any decisions of anything, his sobriety or the living arrangements of our dog. I feel that he's headed into another binge. My thoughts on him not getting Sierra are enough to send him there.

Prior to that convo we'd had another, in which he ended up hanging up on me. Again, we were talking about Sierra and I said I don't understand why she was with you that night. "I take her everywhere, you know that." "Why in the HELL would you take her to a fucking BAR." Hang up.  His judgement, his logic, it's just not there. He either knows he F'd up, or just refuses to thinking hard enough about it to make that realization.

His bro has drafted guardianship papers. I reviewed, and they need some work. regardless, I'm not ready to file them yet, especially as I see his clarity returning. Taking ME out of the equation, I think it's a very important decision to all but take someone's rights away from them. M is worried about D's money.  I have seen NO evidence that he is spending through money. Not to say that he won't, that's part of the mania...but to date, he's kept himself in check. I have no right to get control over it, nor does anyone else. I understand that M wants to make sure it's preserved as much as possible for our kids, I get that, but right now, it's not an immediate concern.

I talked to his psychiatrist last night. I had called a few days ago to discuss Sierra and the guardianship. she had limited knowledge of what happened to land him in the hospital, so I filled her in as best I could. I told her he hasn't seen his kids in 18 weeks. I told her I was struggling with what to do with Sierra. That I'd feel guilty if I gave her back and something happened, but I'd feel more guilty if I didn't give her back and something happened to him. Either way, I'm screwed, I think. As his doc, she obv couldn't give me any advice. We discussed guardianship. I told her that papers had been drafted but that I wasn't ready to move forward at this point. She did agree that if he keeps drinking, he will need a guardian to ensure that his basic needs are met, as his brain/body potentially start to fail him. It was good to talk to her. We have a very good relationship, always have, and i know she knows that my intentions in contacting her are good. We agreed that I would keep in touch if I needed.

J doesn't want me to give Sierra back. I get it. I GET IT. Poor guy. He told me yesterday that he thinks about D more than any other guy ever, and they've never even met. He WANTS to meet him. Actually wants to shake the shit out of him.  Bless his heart, I really feel like the luckiest girl in the world for having met him. Anyhoo...it's interesting to hear his take on D and the situation, both broadly and specific to the latest incident. he understands why I would entertain giving her back. He understands my issue with the guilt. He said last night that he thinks whatever is going to happen with D is going to happen, regardless of if he has Sierra. Having her may prolong the inevitable, but what will be, will be. He thinks he's using her as a crutch. And I really liked that analogy! I asked him why I would possibly take a crutch away from someone who needed it. that's when we got to the point of prolonging the inevitable.

Last night, I remembered something D had mentioned in relation to Sierra. I had told him that she had adjusted well, after the first night of anxiety. that she's getting walks, and even going for runs with me or J (well, I didn't tell him the J part!). That she's fine with the kids, doesnt seem skittish ,etc. He said "I'm really surprised. When she would be there with me, she would tolerate the kids, and be ready to leave after an hour." I've ALWAYS said that he projected his own feelings on to her, and this was my proof. Because now, I've seen her for over a week in the absence of him and she's FINE. It's HIM who can only tolerate the kids for an hour and is ready to leave.

he's so incredibly sick

I got a call from D at 7 this morning, telling me he'd be discharged today. If I hadn't known it was him, I would not have guessed it. they have him pumped full of so many meds.

I picked him up about 1:15. I was instantly blown away by how sick he looked. The nurse had to help him get in the car.

What I now know about Saturday night: he remembers drinking at the bar, then he remembers waking up in an ambulance (there's also a bit of knowledge of being about 100 feet from his car, so he apparently collapsed in the parking lot), and then waking again at the ER. He heard someone say "he's seizing." It took 18 IV bags to get him hydrated. He many have had a small heart attack in the ambulance.

Since his collapse, balance has been an issue. He can't walk without holding on to something. He has orders for PT to visit him at his house to help him figure out how to navigate stairs. He was told he shouldn't be living alone. He needs someone to help him.

fuck fuck fuck

He's not processing anything.

He said "I can't wait to see the kiddos, " as if he'd just been away for a few days (not 18 weeks). I looked at him, trying to understand what that statement meant. I truly think he has no idea how long it's been. I think days have blurred to weeks, to months. My bitterness about that subsided a little. So so sick.

The "easy" part of this, for me, was that he did not ask for Sierra. And now, I have his physical issues to argue why he shouldn't have her. He can barely walk/get up the stairs, which means that her trips outside will be less than they already were.

After he told me about this issue with the stairs, I asked if it was ok if I made sure he made it to condo ok, since he lives on 3rd floor. He was fine it. We pulled out of lot, and should have gone left to get to the condo. Instead he went right, so I followed. I thought at first he was going to stop by the store, but he passed that, and got closer and closer to my house, which made me anxious. Did he think he was going to get Sierra? Finally, at a stoplight I jumped out of the car and ran up to his to ask where he was going. He looked at me blankly and said "I have no idea." I told him to turn around and I'd follow, which he did. Getting up the stairs was slow, but manageable, especially since there's a substantial railing to hold on to.

We got inside and I reminded him that I'd been there Sun night. He had no recollection. I asked him if he knew he was a "silent patient." He had no memory of making that request, although in a drunken stupor I'm sure he did. I politely asked if something happened in the future, would he please give the ok to keep me informed and he said yes. I asked if he'd check in via text, letting me know he was ok, and he said yes.

I'm desperately afraid he's going to die, on a combo of lithium and alcohol. I didn't even broach the drinking topic. There was no point, and quite frankly I'm tired of it. All I can see in my head is that huge glass of white wine that was still on the coffee table from Sat night, and the watered down rum and coke still in his fridge. He doesn't even need to leave the condo to get alcohol back in his system.

I've already touched base with his brother about getting a guardian appointed. I'm the most likely candidate, and the one he'd most likely be ok with holding that role. I'm waiting on a call from M to see what that means for me. Are we jumping the gun with this? Part of me says yes, but the other part feels like he needs it to keep him safe.

he is disintegrating in front of my eyes.

emotional

Probably goes without saying that this entire situation has me so emotional. I'm so angry at D right now, but at the same time so sad, worried, anxious, etc.

Other than his condo (which legally he still shares with me), he really has nothing left to lose at this point. Nothing. And yes, I understand it's his fault, and it's only through choice that he's made that he's in the situation, but I'm sad for him. I wonder if he's sad, or worried, or anxious. Probably all.

I called and he's still in the hospital, still a "silent" patient. I have to imagine he's off observation, and probably on a psych unit. It's where he needs to be, but god it must be lonely. And I hate this for him. I hate that he was dealt such a shitty hand and he couldn't overcome it.

Is this his bottom? Finally? I've thought I've seen it so many other times but I didn't. But is this it. Can he finally get his shit together and start climbing the ladder to sobriety, and happiness, and productivity?

After his last inpatient treatment (from which he relapsed 6 days later), I remember him telling me that all he could think about was alcohol and how much he wanted a drink. Is that what he's thinking now? Or is he thinking about his children, or his dog?  Or is he thinking that he has nothing left? Or is that all too painful and he's trying not to think at all?   Is he just going through the motions, participating in groups and telling a social worker what she wants to hear, just biding his time until he can get out.

I don't plan on giving Sierra back to him, unless, like I said, he REALLY proves himself, and I've yet to come up with a definition of what that means. I'm so afraid that if he doesn't get her back, that will be it for him. I thought getting a divorce would send him over the edge. If he doesn't get her back, I wouldn't be shocked at whatever he chooses to do.  And I would feel responsible.

I dread the convo telling him he can't have her. dread it.  

in the hospital

New drama...

things have been pretty status quo lately, so even though there has been minimal craziness (both good and bad), I've neglected to post. Now though...we have some serious drama.

D did a FB check-in at a local music venue on Sat night, about 12:30. Then, 3 hours later, did another check-in at the local hospital. He's no stranger to checking in at the ER, mostly for attention, I believe. But, this one just made me think twice. I didn't see these check-ins until Sunday morning. About 1 pm, I decided to call the hospital. They were able to tell he was there, but referred to him as a "silent patient" telling me they couldn't give me any info. I started to get anxious, so sent his brother (also an attorney) a text, who then called and tried to get more info, but couldn't.  D's phone was off. 

About 3, I realized that Sierra (our dog, living with him), was going to need help. I sent him a text, which was delivered, so his phone was back on. I asked if he was in the hospital, no response. I told him if I didn't hear from him, I was going to pick her up. No response. 

I started calling J, who I hadn't talked with that day, since he was home with his son. HIS freaking phone was off. I gave it an hour, tried again. Still off. I started calling every 15 minutes. Compulsive, I know, but I couldn't stop. I sent him an e-mail. No response. I NEEDED him to go with me to pick up Sierra. I was afraid what I would find in our condo. I didn't want to go by myself. 

Thankfully, I was able to find a sitter, who I asked to come over at 7, thinking surely J would be at my house by then. She ended up coming early, about 6, and I STILL hadn't talked with J. Phone still off. I was actually pretty pissed at him, although didn't have much reason. He finally called a bit after sitter got there. He said his phone charger had been in his car, and he and O had hung out inside all day. He was ridiculously apologetic, but I was so upset, with him and the situation in general, that I pretty much hung up on him. 

So, I called the hospital again, confirming D was still there (and that it was safe for me to go to condo). I got there, and Sierra wasn't there. I texted D, asking him where she was. No response. What the FUCK. WHERE was my dog?  His car was gone also. 

I went home, completely baffled. Where was she? Sitter is actually a friend, and her husband is a cop., who happened to be on duty. She called him, and we were able to figure out that no paperwork had been filed on D or his car from the night before.  I don't even remember why it was important, but friend suggested I call the hospital again and find out how he was transported there. Did he drive himself, go by ambulance, police, etc. 

I was again met with "he's a silent patient." I finally had the clarity to ask what that meant. It means that either he or his dr had given orders that he was not to have visitors, talk to anyone, or let anyone know he was there. I explained the situation, that I was trying to find my dog. I told her I didn't want any info on him, just to know how he had gotten there so I might get a clue where my dog might be. I mentioned the ER and she said "oh, he came through the ER? they might have more info" so she transferred me. A very angry nurse answered the phone, informing me that her shift of staff had only been there an hour. I again relayed my story...trying to find my dog. She took pity on me and looked him up "oh yes, here's here, hold on." the next person to answer the phone answered "observation." that's when it all made sense to me. At this hospital, they have an observation unit within the ER, for mentally ill patients. Things became more clear. I explained my story again, and that I didn't want to know anything about him, only how he had gotten there. She transferred me again and I swear the phone rang for 5 minutes. Finally, someone answered and I spit out the story AGAIN. I could tell she put her hand on the receiver so I couldn't hear, and then I heard him. "Tell her to look behind the Pageant (bar he had been at), and my car is there." Then, I screamed "and my dog is in the fucking CAR?" The tech/nurse was clearly upset by the situation, but simply said yes. I told her I needed the car key, and how could I get it. She let me know if I came to the ER she would get it to me. 

About that time, J called to say he was on his way, asking how he could help. I told him what was going on and then HE lost it. 

Sierra had been in that car since at least 12:30 am, and by this time, it was after 8 pm. Neither of us discussed worst case scenario. He told me he'd go to the car, and that I should go to ER to pick up key. I asked what the point was of him going to car and he said he'd bust the window. I told him that made absolutely no sense whatsoever. He was at my house within 5 minutes and off we went. 

When I got to ER the nurse went back to get key, told me he didn't want to see me. Fine with me. 

J and I were both on edge during the short drive to his car. We found it, pulled up next to it and nothing. You could feel the freaking tension, and then suddenly my sweet girl's head popped up in the window. Luckily, he'd had the sense to crack the windows. Also luckily, I don't think it broke 80 degrees that day. 

So now, I have inherited my dog back. He is going to have to prove himself ALOT, and I'm not sure he can do it, if he has a chance in hell of getting her back. i tongue in cheek joked with J that this might give him incentive to come see his children. 

So, the mystery is still unsolved. He drove his car to the bar, which was actually within (far) walking distance of condo. He took her with him. Guessing maybe, that he expected to have a drink or two and leave...but why take her at all? He clearly was taken by police or ambulance, since his car was there. Bar fight that needed medical attention? BUT, if he was as drunk as he was to take her to the bar, he was in no shape to fight so that's probably not it. passed out, hit the floor, they called 911?  Also guessing that his BAC was so incredibly high that they refused to let him go home. Most likely being detoxed as we speak. When I heard him Sun night he had that voice of being sober, (which I haven't heard in FOREVER) and knowing that he was in a shit load of trouble. I've heard it many time. 

I still have his car key, and condo keys, so he will have to let me know when he is discharged. 

So, that's that.