Im a bad widow. Again. Its starting to become a theme.
Not only did I completely forget to write in here last Sunday, I also forgot to write in here the Sunday before that.
Wow. I think we need to print a sign on my forehead that reads WRITE IN WIDOWS VOICE, and have it flash in neon lights each Sunday morning until Ive completed my writing responsibilities. Apparently, that is the only way I will remember.
My widow card should be revoked immediately. Actually, would that be a bad thing? That would mean Im no longer widowed, right? That none of this ever happened? Cool. Ill take that.
But since thats not a thing, and I pretty much have to still be widowed, I would very much like to keep writing in here, and stop FORGETTING to do so. Yes, yes, I have a good excuse. The first forget was because I was in San Diego for CAMP WIDOW, so I forgot to write in WIDOWS VOICE because I was very busy widowing at CAMP WIDOW. (which was awesome, by the way) The second forget was because my husband Nick (the one who is alive, not the dead one, just in case youre keeping track at home) had just gotten out of bypass surgery, and I was making daily trips to the hospital to see him , first in ICU, then in regular room, and on that Sunday, they actually let him come home (way earlier than expected), so I was getting the house ready and preparing to go pick him up and talk to the cardiology team and all of that.
So, in all of the chaos and with all the “husband having bypass surgery during July, my biggest trigger month / sudden heart attack widow panic ” stuff going on, I forgot. Im sorry. Again. Its not you. Its me. Really. I will do better. Hopefully.
Now, onto the heart stuff. Nick did great. His surgery was Wed July 20th, and even though it was scheduled to be a 6 to 7 hour triple bypass surgery, it ended up being about a 5 hour, double bypass surgery. For many reasons too boring to get into, they decided a double bypass made more sense and the triple wasnt necessary. Me, my parents, and one of Nicks sisters all waited together in the waiting area for heart patients, and we tried to pass the time as best as possible. Those 5 hours may have been the hardest part. Even though they told me that I most likely wouldnt get any updates until around 2pm that day, it was impossibly difficult sitting there WITH NO UPDATES for hour after hour, and stopping all the many bad widow thoughts that were going through my head. When my phone rang about 90 minutes earlier than I expected, my brain went into total panic, and my first thought was “Oh no. Hes dead. He died on the table. Hes dead. Why else would they be calling me?” Turns out they were calling to say he was done a bit early, because of the double instead of triple bypass thing. Whew!
Next up was them asking me if I wanted to go see him. They explained that he had many tubes and things attached, and he wouldnt be awake and wont know I am there, but we could go in one at a time and see him once they got him set up in ICU. Going in that tiny room and sitting next to him like that, him being silent and asleep, it reminded me SO MUCH of when I went “to see Don” after he was lying there dead in the tiny room and they asked me if I wanted to see him. I remember he looked like he was taking a nap. I had to keep reminding myself that he was not napping – he was dead. This time, I had to remind myself that he was not dead – he was napping. In both cases, I had no idea what to say or how to be, so I just kept repeating “I love you, I love you, I love you” while gently touching and rubbing their arm.
Nick did so well in ICU, that they let him out of ICU on Thursday evening, the day after his surgery. He then did so well in the regular hospital room that they let him come home about 2 days earlier than expected. I visited him every day (they wouldnt let me stay overnight or stay past visiting hours ), and my parents stayed at our house with me while Nick was in the hospital for four nights. We cleaned and got the house ready and did groceries and prepared for his return as much as possible, and then Sunday I went to pick him up and bring him home.
Life at home post-surgery has been challenging, but we are both thankful that there IS life after surgery, and that this was caught and he gets that second chance. I hate watching him wince in pain every time he moves, or trying to find a position for sleep that is even remotely comfortable for him. The incision site down the center of his chest is intimidating , life-affirming, and fragile, to say the least. Each movement he makes during the next 6 to 8 weeks of recovery has to be done with care and precision. He cant drive, and if he is in a vehicle, he needs to ride in the backseat. An accident and an air-bag going off would likely kill him, they explained. He cant sleep on his side or stomach .He cant have caffeine. He cant reach up high or down low or do anything that would stretch or break that area. He cant go in our pool. He will miss our first summer with the pool. There are so many little things he / we need to be aware of, and so we are trying hard to focus on how he will hopefully feel AFTER the slow recovery process. How he will feel like “a new man”, according to most people we have talked with who have been through this surgery firsthand.
I wont say that his surgery has “given me new perspective” or “reminded me about whats important” or any of that kind of stuff, because it hasnt. I was already well aware. Even before Don’s sudden death, I always knew what we had and that it was special and I always had that sense of whats important and we didnt let the small things bother us. Thats just how we were by nature in our relationship. Then he died, and then I learned that everything you know and everything you are can be taken away in a flash, and that grief and trauma are things that you dont just “get over”, but that you carry with you into your tomorrows and they affect your mindset on everything going forward.
Bad things happen to people for no reason whatsoever.
But heres what Im TRYING to learn also Good things happen too. Good things can happen to people too.
Im trying to learn to breathe and exist through both the impossibly hard and the wonderfully good, and stay inside the good while its there, and process through the bad in as healthy a way as possible.
Through it all, love is the common denominator, and the driving force to get up and try again tomorrow.