October 21, 2017

 

               Ed’s bad knees are what catapulted him into wanting knee replacement surgery. However, Ed, with his usual zealousness for what he believed in, wanted to do both knees at the same time. I felt like it was too much, but he felt like he wanted to reduce the time he would be laid up in recovery if the knees were done separately.

               He needed permission from both his cardiologist—due to a heart issue he had the previous year—and his regular doctor before the surgeon would sign off on the procedure.

               I was surprised when he let me know that his surgery was approved, and it was scheduled for October 11th.

               I took the day off so I could be there for his surgery. It was most of the morning that day, spent sitting in a special waiting room just for me. I did have a friend stop by, but for the most part I sat there contemplating our life of 29 years together.

               Funny how you never know when you are about to enter a time in your life that will change things forever.

               He came through the surgery just fine, but two days later he developed a blood clot that they were concerned would cause a heart attack. Ed underwent several procedures to break up the clots, most of which required him to stay prone for the day.

               That event really rattled him, and all of us. Many people from our church, and some family drove up to Chicago to visit him.

               A few days later we believed we were out of the woods and Ed prepared to come home. His rehabilitation at the hospital was progressing well and he had been walking the halls with a walker.

               The first night in a week and a half that I hadn’t stopped after work to visit him was a Friday night--but we still talked on the phone. He said he expected to be released in the next few days and he reminded me to go the next morning to the nursing ministry organization that loaned out medical supplies. Some items were needed for temporary use during his recovery, such as a shower chair.

               He shared that some kind of numbers from his blood work concerned his physician, so the doctor prescribed a medicine to help counter it. Ed would be released once his numbers improved. After a week and a half in a hospital bed, Ed was excited thinking he would be released that weekend.

               The next morning, I called, and Ed reminded me, once again, about the medical supplies. “They are only open on Saturday mornings and Wednesday evenings. So, I need you to go tomorrow so you have the stuff I need before I come home this weekend.”

               “I know, I got this,” I reassured him.

He told me his numbers from his blood work had improved a little bit. He thought he might be released by Sunday.

               I assured him I would go to the nursing ministry and get the medical supplies after we hung up. We both said, “Love you” and we hung up.

               While utilizing GPS to find this nursing ministry place, my phone rang. Since I was in Ed’s Honda CRV and couldn’t connect my phone’s blue tooth, I didn’t answer.

When I arrived, I quickly went inside and got in line so I could get the needed medical supplies before they closed. My TOP priority that morning was to check out the medical supplies Ed needed to be released.

After I checked out the needed medical supplies I went outside and loaded it all in the back of the Honda. I then checked my phone message. It was the hospital.

               I decided to listen to the message before I used my GPS to drive back to the apartment. It was a nurse at the hospital, who left her name and phone number. She asked that I call, after hearing the message.

Something inside of me compelled me to call immediately.

               I dialed the number and the nurse who answered confirmed my identity. She then told me Ed had been walking around for his physical therapy when he became dizzy. The staff immediately returned him to his room, but as he laid down, he lost consciousness and went into cardiac arrest.

The nurse continued, saying they had performed CPR, but they were not yet able to resuscitate him. They were planning to try some medicine (I cannot recall what) and were continuing to try and resuscitate him.

               My head swirled and seemed foggy. I could not seem to make sense of what she was telling me. I knew Ed was planning on coming home, so I didn’t understand how this could be possible.

I asked, “Do you have the right person?”

               “You are Ed Taylor’s wife, Kim Taylor?” the nurse asked.

               I answered that I was.

She said, “I’m sorry, but yes, Ed went into cardiac arrest.”

               The nurse said the staff would continue to perform CPR on Ed for another 15 minutes, and she asked where I was.

               When I told her, she asked if I had family nearby. I did not. Then she asked if I had friends nearby, which I did. She directed me to contact my friends and ask them to pick me up and take me home. She said I should not be driving.

               I asked, “Shouldn’t I come there?” I felt like I should be rushing to Ed’s side.

               She asked how far away I was. I struggled to remember, but I finally remembered it was a 40-minute drive in Chicago traffic.

               She told me I would not make it in time. And then she had me repeat what she wanted me to do—hang up, call my friends, and have them come and pick me up and take me home to wait for a phone call.

               And I did.

A great many thanks to my friends Frank and Janet who answered that phone call. Who listened to my awful news, and then tried to determine where I was from my spotty description of the location.

               While I waited for Frank and Janet, I called my kids. Those calls were absolutely some of the hardest phone calls I have ever made in my life—and I have lost my mother and my sister, and I have had cancer; but these calls were even harder.

               Frank and Janet found me, hugged me, and drove me back to the apartment.

               There, surrounded by all of our stuff, I waited for the hospital to call me back.

               The longer it took, the more I dreaded the news.

               Eventually, they called. The nurse assured me the staff had done everything they could to revive him. I was completely devastated.

               This, I am sure, was one of the longest days in recorded history. I had to call my kids, and Ed’s parents, and my siblings. I cried so much I don’t know how any liquid remained in my body.

               Then Janet told me the hospital called because I needed to come there and identify Ed. Frank and Janet drove me, and I really don’t remember if anyone else was in the car.

               I remember entering the hospital and heading up the elevator to his floor. It all seemed so surreal--I had been there so many times over the last couple of weeks. But now I felt like I was in a dream, walking without thinking, moving in step with my friends and heading to the door.

               I hesitated to go in--to see him. I knew that once I walked through that threshold there was no going back. It would be real. And if there was one thing my foggy, grief-stricken brain wanted, was for all of this NOT to be real.

               The moment I stepped in the room and saw his body lying on the hospital bed, I knew it was real. He was still in his hospital gown, lying covered up to his chest with a blanket. He looked as if he was sleeping peacefully.

               That hellish/heartbreaking/nightmarish day forever changed my life.