There are two parts to this entry. The first part is to tell you all how my Toni died. I am doing that for the people who knew and loved her. Many of you know, but I think many more of you do not. So, here goes.
Part One: Toni's death.
Toni had been diabetic for many years and sometimes it was almost under control and sometimes it was not. Anytime she got an infection (flu, UTI, etc.) the infection combined with the antibiotics would make her blood sugar spike. The last week of March, Toni got one type of flu and I got a different kind a couple of days later. Her infection settled in her lungs with an endless cough. Mine was more the digestive tract kind, and let's leave it at that. I gave Toni the best cough medicine pills I knew of and she was taking two inhalers, but it wasn't helping. So Wednesday we went to Urgent Care where she got a breathing treatment and two shots, an antibiotic and a steroid. We also got prescriptions for pills of the same meds. We picked up the antibiotic but the steroid script hadn't shown up yet. I picked it up on late Friday. The directions said to spread out the doses over the course of the day and had a clear chart on when and how many. But. On the first day you needed to take all of the pills, no matter how late you started. So Toni took the whole set at once. I don't know how much of a role this played. But I do know that with all the other meds Toni was on just to make it through a normal day, it had to have added to the problem, even if it was helping the infection. We'd been through this before.
Toni had been sleeping a lot during her illness. So when Saturday came around, I let us sleep in a little. What we had both forgotten, but me especially since I was up and about, was to pick up something for breakfast the night before. So when I finally woke Toni up, she didn't want to wait for me to run all the way into town to get something. So we settled on donuts (!) from the bakery down the road. She ate a donut and I noticed she wasn't looking good. She said she wasn't feeling good either and I suggested she check her blood. It was 456. I looked at her and she looked at me. It was time to go to the ER.
Now three years ago, Toni had an infection that got bad enough that I couldn't get her out of bed and had to call the ambulance. It took a week in the hospital to balance her sugar with the intake of antibiotics plus her usual meds. Part of the time back then, she was delirious and gave us some really good laughs that I will probably share someday. I ended up taking an extended hiatus from work for another few weeks to take care of her when she finally was allowed home.
None of that happened this time. She was alert and fairly mobile. Toni had tested her blood a little before ten in the morning. By the time we got her dressed and ready to go it was after eleven. She was able to walk to the car on her own power though she was shaky and I had to help her. We got to the car and when she picked her leg to get in she started to collapse. We have a long flagstone path from the front door to the driveway and she still couldn't breathe right; but we got her into the car and we left for the hospital. On the way she fell asleep which didn't surprise me. I knew the situation was serious, so I kept checking to see if she was still breathing. We had gone about six and a half miles when I looked over and noticed the color of her hands didn't look right. I called her name. And she didn't wake up.
I pulled over into a turn lane and stopped the car. I yelled her name again and again. I shook her. I looked into her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, that I fell in love with a lifetime ago...those eyes that sparkled like no jewel I had even seen...those eyes that blazed with a living fire when she got angry...
...and she wasn't there...
Over the last few years, we'd lost four of our beloved boys, and we were with everyone of them during there last moments. They would be there, with all the life they ever had in them. And suddenly, they were gone. The life left their eyes. You could tell when they weren't in their bodies anymore. Toni was just gone. I could tell from her eyes.
I called 9-1-1 and the dispatcher did her job well. I pulled the car into the parking lot to get off the road and give the first responders room to do their work when they got there. She asked if I could get Toni out of the car. I could not; between the cramped quarters of the Kia Soul and Toni's weight, I knew that I couldn't. I was barely able to help her get in when she was conscious. She asked me to put the seat back and tilt her head back to open Toni's breathing passage. That didn't help. I got certified forty years ago to do CPR as part of a boating safety program, but again it wouldn't have helped. the car was too small and the seat was too soft to try: you need a hard surface under a person to be effective. So I waited. It took the ambulance 12 minutes to get there. Police and fire arrived on the scene shortly after. The paramedics and the fire crew took turns doing CPR after they got Toni out of the car and I stood by, talking with the police.
After another 20 minutes, they announced they got a pulse. They put Toni in the ambulance and drove off to the hospital. After promising the police I would drive carefully I followed. The folks at the ER worked on Toni for quite a while, pumping her full of drugs to increase her blood pressure enough for her heart to do its job. But she needed a respirator to breathe. And she was maxed out on the blood pressure stimulants. I tried to call family at this point but couldn't get through to anyone. So I left messages. And more messages.
Three or so hours later, she was stable enough to move to a room in the Medical ICU. Once she was settled there and out of immediate danger, I went home to feed the dogs. On the way, Toni's sister Linda returned my call and I pulled over on the side of the road and blubbered the story so far. The word went out from there and by the time I got back to the hospital, most of the family was there. Soon everyone who could make it was there. I spoke with the doctors and saw her CT scan. You don't ever wake up from this. Wanting to do everything by the book, we were going to wait for the neurologist to confirm the findings the next morning. So we all hunkered down to wait. I was trying to decide if I would spend the night there or go home. The family had been through this before with Toni's mom. It was oddly familiar. And as we sat there word came out that Toni wouldn't make it to morning. Her organs were starting to fail.
We all stood around Toni's hospital bed, just like we stood around Jinny's bed 19 years earlier and watched as she passed peacefully into another place.
42 years ago, my mother got the flu and was off work for a week. And went to the hospital alert and even joking with the doctor. But she was sleeping a lot, and when she had nodded off for a while, we all went into the hallway for a break. I happened to look in on her when I found her not breathing. They worked on her for 3 hours and finally got her stabilized. With a respirator. My mother stayed in a coma for 5 days until they could bring in a brain scan machine from another hospital to do an EEG. 42 years ago, small hospitals didn't have high tech. My mother was brain dead and we made the decision to end life support. The laws were different back then, in that there were no real laws about such things, so it wasn't hard. But OH was it hard.
With Toni, there was no "decision" to be made except how long to keep her breathing. Since we were all there and there was no reason to prolong matters, my darling wife made her exit. And I thought to myself, "Why does this keep happening to me?"
In the days following, I had a growing conviction. Everyone has been absolutely wonderful about wishing me well. And it's natural. I was her husband. I presumably lost the most in her passing. Maybe that is true. But what else is true is that the world lost Toni. Everyone who knew her is feeling that pain, that grief, that sorrow. We all lost her. So while I will continue to be grateful for all the kindnesses people are showing, please know that I know you hurt, too. And I am praying for you, too. Because this isn't all about me. Toni's heart was way bigger than that. I had a big part of it, but nobody could love like that girl. This is about her. It's about how we will go on without her. It's about taking all those little bits of life and living that she shared with us and doing something with them. We were all blessed to have known her. Bless those around you.
She loved you all. I love you all.
End of Part One.
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