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.