Life is not fair, I know this, it doesn't usually bother me. This week, it has hit me in the face and reminded me.
Martin died last week.
About three weeks ago, he developed a cough/cold. I was giving him some cough medicine, and cold meds. On August 18th, he fell trying to get to the toilet. On Sunday afternoon, he called me into his room, and he had a small hematoma on his leg, I put ice on it, gave him a pain pill, and told him we would keep an eye on it. By Tuesday morning it was nearly wrapped around his leg. He was in a lot of pain, and wanted me to take him to the ER, I told him there really wasn't much they could do, besides what I was doing, keeping an eye on it, putting ice on it, and pain pills. I had also talked to a friend of mine that is an RN, and she and I agreed that if it got worse to go to the ER. I had an appointment for him on Thursday morning, August 23, for both the cough, and the hematoma.
On Wednesday, Mo and I went out shopping, because her granddaughter was getting married on Aug 26th, and we needed to get her an outfit, and a wedding present. We come back home about 5pm, and I had swung by Long John Silvers for supper (yeah, I know, it doesnt go by their diet, but once a week is okay). So I make him a plate of sliced tomatoes, coleslaw, and french fries (he doesnt eat fish or chicken). He eats about 3 slices of tomato (I believe I had given him 8 or something like that) two bites of the coleslaw, and about three french fries (believe I had given him about ten or so fries). I asked him why he hadn't eaten everything. He talked about how he just doesn't eat like other people, and that he just doesn't eat that much. I took the plate away, did the supper dishes, and other evening things that I do, and then had a video conference with my genealogy club. I heard him coughing, and went in and gave him some cough syrup. The cough changed, but it was the sound of when a person *hocks a loogie* (I hate that term, but its the best way to describe it). I didnt really think much about it, except that he was finally getting the crap out of his chest. All of a sudden the coughing and his breathing changed. You know how being a mother, you just KNOW something is different. It was that feeling. I went in, and he was asleep, but felt different, so I tried rousing him, and he was NOT waking up, he had very shallow breathing. I then leaned close for some reason, and realized his lip was blue. I immediately called 911, they had me get his blood sugar (which was 230) and do chest compressions (I had been doing a sternum rub). The EMT's got there, and declared him gone.
Even writing about that night, it just tires me out again, as if I went through it all again. I believe his death has hit me the hardest because I was with him 24/7, even sleeping in the room with him, being there on a constant basis for him. Making sure he ate properly, worrying if he needed anything, etc.
We had the funeral the other day, and I will now officially say his real name Marvin Orr Mechlin. I use aliases, to keep the families privacy. Anyway, at the funeral the other day, I did really well, until they did TAPS, that is when I lost it. That was our final goodbye.