I know that technically Frank died on May 3rd in the hospital, but I was informed during those last few hours of his life that he actually died in our house. He died ON his couch & the police didn't do anything. When the paramedics/EMTs arrived, they performed CPR, shocked him, intubated & brought him back. I have so many thoughts running through my head. People say not to dwell on these things, that they will make no difference anyway, but I just cannot help it.
I wonder if maybe this would be easier, if I had just gone to bed that night... then I think "The kids would have found him in the morning, and that would have been traumatic as well". I wish that I had pushed him to go to the doctor, but honestly, I never considered "heart attack" to be the issue... after our phone call, I started researching MS symptoms. Then I think, well, maybe the clinic or hospital wouldn't have caught it or maybe he would have had the heart attack in their care, and I wouldn't have had those last few hours with him.
To me, tonight (around 1AM in the morning - technically Tuesday morning, but 1AM will always be "night" to me) will mark 3 weeks since he died. Really, he DID die here... they just brought him back, but it was probably already too late at that point, going all those minutes with no oxygen. :( I just didn't know, never considered it until the doctor told us that in the hours before Frank's heart finally gave up. I consider tonight to be the night, because it is the last time we spoke together... the last time I talked to him & he responded (or vice versa). After 1AM, it was just me talking to him. I cried "Wake up, Frank!" and "Breathe, honey, PLEASE!" over & over. I think I yelled at all the other people to "Help!" and "Save him!" and "Fix him!". Maybe deep down, I really knew he was gone, but suppressed it or something. Denial...
I talked to him in the hospital over the next 2.5 days. I told him how much I loved him & needed him.... how much his kids needed him, and I said it often. I told him he was strong and he could fight this & get better. I told him to show us and the doctors and nurses how strong & stubborn he really was. I joked with him a few times, as did Ashley. I massaged his arms, held his hand, stroked his hair, kissed his forehead and hands, applied Vaseline to his lips and told him "We need to keep those big beautiful lips moist so I can kiss them when you wake up!" I wiped tears and blood from his face, and washed his face. I rubbed his feet & legs, and once, my friend Sheri & I gave him a foot massage at the same time - one foot for each of us. Basically, I truly thought that love could save him... that love could bring him back to us, even if it was only to buy a little more time. Just 5 more minutes would have sufficed...
Before the doctors started to warm him up, they did a preliminary brain activity test. Why? I don't know... to see if it was worth their continued efforts? There WAS brain activity. How much? I don't know. Which parts of his brain was still working? The basic functions required for organ function? Hearing? FEELING? Full comprehension? I'll never know. Once, on the first day, we saw his arm move. Later, my mom saw him blink his eyes. I became more hopeful. When the doctors were told, they put him on paralytics so he COULDN'T move... they said his body was too weak to try to "do" things and it would hinder the healing process, and was too stressful & hard on his body. They were supposed to do another brain scan once they had warmed him up to normal body temperature, but it never happened. I'll always wonder if all those efforts left him in pain... or was he numb, but could hear us? I had hoped maybe they would bring him out of the coma before he died, if just for a few minutes so we could say goodbye & let him know that if it was too hard, it was okay for him to go... but it never happened. Maybe I just watch too much TV and am unrealistic. Frank and I religiously watched House since it first aired and never missed an episode...
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