Have you ever......

Have you ever wanted to write, need to write almost, but the things you have in mind to write about keep being pushed aside by different thoughts? That is what has been happening with me. Right now I am as ready as I ever will be for Dennis. I am staying home and have gotten in the water and food......potted meat, the hurricane food.

I think that maybe what the problem is, is that Dennis was my husband's name. He died in 1995, after being sick for about five years. He was finally given the right diagnosis two days before he died. He had mysenteric artery occlusion that led to an infarct. He literally had no blood flow to his intestines and had slowly been starving to death all that time. He looked like a concentration camp survivor. And, all through that his doctor was telling him that he had diabetic neuropathy of the stomach and was prescribing antibiotics. His doctor was an idiot.

The last time Dennis and I talked was the Monday before he died. I was filling out paperwork for his medical retirement from work. Dennis was an RN. He started talking about the insurance money and what I should do with it. I was totally convinced that since they had finally gotten his diagnosis right and were planning surgery that he was going to be ok. Anyway, Dennis was telling me that I should invest the money. During this his doctor came into the room and was being Mr Cool doc with his coat over his shoulder. He was making small talk........I think he only came in so that he could bill for a hospital visit. Finally, Dennis asked him if he had seen the results of the arteriogram. His doctor hadn't!!! This man was supposed to be treating Dennis and he had not even bothered to look at the tests! Another reason that I think he was only there so he could bill. Two days later Dennis went into and coma and had to be intubated. I sat by his bed till he died. My youngest son and daughter were both there too. Phil was nine. I didn't know it then, but Phil had told Michael (my daughter) just a week before that sometimes he prayed that his father would die, that if he could not get well, because at least then he would be out of the pain. And, Dennis had had a lot of pain.

Michael told me what Phil had said about six months later when Phil was beginning to act out. That answered a lot of questions for me and showed me how to deal with Phil. I finally made him realize that he did not have to feel guilty for saying that.

Dennis was a quiet man. He had a few close friends, but he did not make friends easily. He also had a wonderful dry wit. Not everyone got that wit though. He worked in ICU which can be very stressful. One night a patient was looking puny so Dennis called for Respiratory Therapy to do a blood gas. The tech, who was not easlily amused, came in with a co-worker and drew the blood. She went to get the results and the other tech was at the patient's bed doing other things. Housekeeping came through and mopped the area, but forgot to put up a Wet Floor sign. The first tech came hurrying back with the results of the ABG, hit the wet floor and slid halfway under the bed, meanwhile knocking tech knocking her over onto the patient, her ather large boobs on each side of his face. (the patient was alert enough to laugh, with the tech's huge boobs were on each side of his face). When the dust settled, the first tech was laying on the floor holding the results of the ABG in the air. Dennis walked over, said ..'I'll take that'....took the results and walked off. The tech was furious at Dennis, but that became a story for slow nights when people were trying to stay awake. Dennis always told about the time I backed the car over his foot..........a long story that I will save for now.

I worked at the same hospital. It took me several weeks to be able to go into ICU again, especially at night. One of the sweetest things the other nurses did was to post what stories, etc about Dennis online so Phil would know how much his father was loved and missed.