“No”
Patti
When Nurse Badnews walked into the room I noticed how crisply she walked. As she told me she needed to talk to me about my husband, I thought then shouted, “No!”
Lesli asked, “Is he alive?”
Nurse Badnews answered, “For now.”
Lesli adamantly directed, “I need for you to stop talking and start walking.”
The nurse reluctantly explained to Lesli that she was waiting for me. Lesli assured her that I would catch up. Undoubtedly, we had totally different approaches to the trek to CT. Lesli raced, determined to catch her daddy still alive, lingering, uncertainly between this life and eternity. I meandered. I studied the tiles on the floor, the paint on the walls, the doors, and even my own fingernails. I tried desperately to delay the journey into what I knew would be the most horrible situation imaginable.
Those electronic doors at the end of the CVICU delayed Baby-girl’s race to her daddy. Nurse Badnews waved, waved, and waved at the thing like it needed to be politely coaxed open. It was an obstinate gate to the pit of despair. I passed Nurse Badnews and pushed it unceremoniously open.
If I must pass, then pass I must.
Lesli sped through with her unwilling leader following. I sauntered. Rounding the corner, my eyes were met by hundreds of people. I saw Lesli slip through the door and heard her pleading with her daddy. “Daddy, don’t go. We aren’t ready.” She screamed frantically. “Come back!” “No, You can’t go!” “Daddy! Wake up!”
I saw his battered body bouncing on the table before I saw his face. CPR doesn’t look anything like what we’ve seen on television. CPR is a violent assault on a body to force blood through a heart that has stopped beating. I saw his purple almost black face, his sightless, open eyes, and the mouth that would never again kiss my face. I spoke quietly, almost a whisper “Please stop that.” The athletic blood pumper looked my way but continued to jump up and down on my precious Honey’s chest. “Stop!” I spoke louder, “He didn’t want that. He is gone.” The chest beater stopped.
I think I walked over to the empty body that had claimed the life of my dear husband and gently rubbed his cheek. I then turned and walked out of the room where my Hero had so recently breathed his last breath.
I looked around for him in the hall. I think I secretly believed I was in a terrible nightmare, and the man of my dreams would be able to comfort me. Quietly, I walked away. I stopped only when I heard questions. I answered them. With the exception of these three, I do not now know what they asked, or how I responded. Eventually, however, I heard
“Do you want an autopsy?”
“Do you have any questions for me?”
“Is there someone you would like for us to call?”
My response to all was “No.”
The worst night of my life had begun and ended with “No”.
