The One Year Mark and the Unexpected

Getting stranded at the Denver airport. But hey! They have encouraging signs! XD

I don’t know if anyone else would find the timing as interesting as I do. I am currently in the air, 36,000 feet up, flying to Denver, my layover stop, to go back home from my visit to Baltimore. My flight was delayed. Initially, we had no clarity on when or if it would go to Denver. I sat in a very warm plane, watching some people deplane, deciding my best options, musing on other people’s reactions.

In other words, I was having an unexpected adventure.

You know what I was doing last year this very day?

Not so dissimilar in the unexpected part. An adventure of some sort.

I was at the hospital with Jeremy. It was the second night of our only hospital stay. Half way through the final stretch. If I recall correctly, that night we had a scare. A special nurse was called out of bed and she showed up with a sling bag packed ready to go for this very reason. The regular night nurse was getting quite stressed. She behaved as if Jeremy was on death’s door. I remember the special nurse was calm, composed, and visibly did not like how the night nurse was handling it. I think she worried on my behalf that I was being unduly stressed because there were still many things that they could do to fix him. The special nurse was so specially reassuring. Her expertise calmed me. She was reciting out loud all the steps of what to do and what had been done. A verbal checklist. There was clearly a method and evidence of training. It was impressive to watch. Not just how good she was at her job, but also that we as a species have come up with a system to do these things as optimally and efficiently as possible. Even then I thought that was so cool.

I was worried, of course, but quite certain we were in good hands. All that was required of me was to carry on and stay calm. The heart monitor was facing me. Jeremy would ask me periodically what his heart rate was at. I watched and dutifully reported back. We were a team, cautiously optimistic that pulling through was still our common goal.

Eventually, excruciatingly slowly, his heart rate went back to an acceptable range. The ship was not back in the harbor yet, but safe for the night.

I was eager to ask the doctor when we could reschedule the new treatment that was set to start that day. When the doctors came back the next day, instead of the treatment plan, we were given the “I recommend that you do not resuscitate” talk. Things descended quicker than anyone had anticipated. Within a week, I went from thinking we had years, to months, to days.

I have shared much of the rest (and much of the above) in this blog. Over the next two days, I made the phone call to family and friends, advocated for Jeremy to prioritize comfort, absolutely heartbroken when I couldn’t tell him what his heart rate was when he asked one last time after they had taken off the sensor stickers… made jokes about me making jokes about turds (Juvenile? Yes. But he laughed and I’m never gonna stop. Bite me.) The polite harp player and our bewilderment (I learned more on that later and it’s fascinating). Asking ourselves why they would offer us quilts and deciding that if it were for comfort then I was his human equivalent of a quilt…

When I think of the final days, there was so much tenderness and love from the hospital staff. Memories of those brief 4 days are among my most precious possessions. Everyone cared so much. I couldn’t stop thinking how fortunate we were to be met with such kindness without reservation. When I was the most vulnerable, I was held so securely by everyone around me that when it was time to get up none of my pieces were missing.

I wish for nothing to be different. Try as I may, the memories are only imperfectly etched in my mind, defenseless against the erosion of time. But I pronounce them perfect. A miracle of a one-take cut from every actor.

A song I really like put into words one of the common pains of grief - to walk this world alone as someone you don’t know. I think for the most part I am still who I was a year ago. Though I have done many things I’ve never done before. I dance regularly now. I picked up HEMA fencing. I have caught fish in five different states. I have made new friends. Still a procrastinator. Terrible at managing time. Slept outside under the open sky. Walked barefoot in the clearest, coldest of streams. Finally visited my friend who dropped everything to come stay with me last year.

I am still here. Despite everything, I’d say I’m still in love with this world. For the ephemeral lightning bugs and yellow-skirted mayflies. For the smooth agates tumbled by the ocean waves. For sharing hobbies with friends and pretending to take over Middle Earth as Sauron (I lost. The free people didn’t care for my orderly world. Sad. Really). Not so much for getting stranded at the airport overnight but what can you do? Now the question is, will that Shake Shack still be open?

Well, one last thing. There may be something that’s different about me. I’m learning to let go and let fear thrill me. Not the irresponsible kind (I’m still an accountant…) but the kind that will take me to new heights and new adventures. Maybe then I too can finally run toward the lion’s roar like Jeremy.