Well, this is my first solo post here. I decided I should do like Kori and lay it out there in an attempt to let it go and move forward. Maybe not let it go, but try to stop letting it hold me back. It occurred to me during this whole process that we can't re-feel the same emotions that we feel in some extreme situations in our lives. We can remember how we felt at the time, but we can't re-feel it. I think there is a part of us that feels a little guilty inside for not being able to re-feel it. We try to re-connect with how we felt so we can re-live it for some odd reason. Despite my best efforts, I can't re-sit on that bench waiting for word, and I can't re-sit at the edge of the bed confused and horrified. I guess this is probably for the best, and it is the start to emotional healing. For me it has been weird, to see all of the emotions people have after the fact, partially because I lived such intense emotions and have seen things much worse off than they are now. The other reason I am beginning to understand, is that a little piece of my emotional connection to this has been numbed. I can try to focus now on Kori's healing, and her progress every day getting a little bit better (even in spite of a couple setbacks). However, buried somewhere not so deep inside of me is a tremendous fear and a ball of emotions that I keep trying to choke back. So here we go, I am going to share the story of my worst day ever in an attempt to release some of this burden...
It was a Sunday, a normal Sunday by most accounts. Things were getting better. Kori and I had her family over the night before for dinner. She ate well, and everyone had a good time. She was at home recovering from Viral Meningitis. She had been released just a week before, and we knew it was going to take a little while before she was back up to full speed. She had been trying to ween herself off of the pain medication, but was actually cutting them in half and quarters to stretch them. Perhaps that should have been the first warning sign. She is the toughest person I think I have ever met in my life, and the fact that she was still in pain should have been a red flag. But, like I said she is tough, and she wanted to be better. The day was uneventful, Kori rested and the kids played. It took a shift from smooth sailing to concern at around 4:30. I had put a lasagna into the oven for dinner, S was across the street at her friend's house, and our two littlest ones were home playing. I was checking on dinner when C came downstairs and told me that Kori needed me. I went up to the bathroom to find her on sitting on the floor having just vomited. I asked her what was going on, and she said she was having a headache and felt horribly nauseous. I asked if she felt like she needed to go in, and she said she didn't know. We decided we would call my mother (a Nurse Practitioner) and get her opinion on what to do. After checking her temperature, we thought that it was weird, but this is most likely something un-related to the meningitis. We should make sure she can keep down some fluids, and watch things. At this point, my focus returned to dinner and the kiddos. Running downstairs to check the oven, and then back up to check on Kori. I had a feeling of almost annoyance as she continued to sit on the floor in the bathroom, moaning in pain. I don't know where that annoyance came from, and it is a large regret I carry with me still. I should have known, this tough lady was in pain, and she can handle more than her fair share. Still believing that it was just a flu and headache, I 'encouraged' her to get up and get into bed. Almost like a father with a child wanting to stay home from school. I closed the door to let her rest without the kids bothering her, and almost so I wouldn't be bothered. After a little bit, I went back up to the bedroom asking her again what was wrong. Things started to change somewhat quickly from that point. Now she was feeling weird, and the pain in her head was focused on the right side. She said she just felt weird and couldn't explain it well to me. Still trying to multi-task, I ran up and down the stairs to check on the oven and to check in with Kori. I kept asking her if she thought we should go in (to the ER), and she kept saying she didn't know, she just felt weird. The weird feeling grew into a numbness creeping down her left side. At this point I decided we should go in. I put her slippers on, and called S to come home from the neighbors so she could watch the little ones while we ran up to the ER. Before she could even get home, Kori started to act very strange. Her face almost went blank, she was staring beyond me. Her body tensed up and her breathing accelerated. Her speak became slurred and confused. I immediately felt a panic crawl over my entire body. I kept talking to her trying to stay calm. Her breathing continued to grow faster, and her body was very rigid at this point. She began to convulse and her breathing became very fast and labored. She began to foam at the mouth, and all I could do was sit there and try to calm her down. I can't relay the feelings the raged through my mind and body, terrified and helpless are the two closest things, but they don't begin to describe the horror that had overtaken me. I wasn't sure if I was watching my wife die in our bed right in front of me. I had never seen a seizure before, but I knew that's what it was. As she began to relax and come back, I immediately called 911. I again am at a loss to explain how my own voice sounded as I explained to the dispatcher that my wife had just had a seizure. I knew this was out of my league, and all I needed at that moment in time was someone to come help me. And come they did. I had S home now, and I told her to call her grandma because the paramedics were on their way to take their mom to the hospital. She did amazing, taking the little ones downstairs and keeping them occupied and calm. I kept running up and down the stairs looking for the ambulance, and back to Kori's side. She was groggy and confused, I tried to reassure her, and explain what was happening. The paramedics were lightening fast, and I am forever grateful for that. As I was trying to explain everything that had happened and led up to this night, Kori began to stiffen up again and started to seize for the second time. At this point they sedated her, and loaded her onto a back board. Some firefighters had since arrived, and with help from everyone, they carried Kori down the stairs and loaded her onto the cart and rolled her out to the ambulance. Before they could even close the doors, Kori's sister Angie pulled into the driveway. This woman has been more than an angel to her sister and my family. I will never have sufficient words to express my gratitude to her. I tried to tell her what I could, but she didn't need anything, she stepped in immediately and took our kids under her wings. I was now able to shift my focus to Kori. I jumped into our envoy and followed the ambulance the few blocks to the hospital.
I did my best to keep everything together and explain all the events to the ER doctor, thank goodness it was the same Dr. that had taken care of her our last visit for the meningitis. All I could focus on was that Kori was in pain. She kept complaining about it, and I kept asking if there was something they could do for it. I was told that we needed to wait and see what was going to happen. I was told that there was a very large concern since Kori had seized more than once. They sent her for a CT scan, and I took the opportunity during that lull to make calls and fill everyone in. This family that I have been accepted into has risen to the occasion in such a huge way, I can't explain how blessed I feel to have them all in my life. It didn't take long before Kori's parents and her sister had rallied together at the hospital. Kori's CT showed a definite issue in her right temporal lobe, and they wanted to do an MRI to get a better look. I was still concerned with Kori's pain level, because she kept telling me how much she didn't want to hurt anymore. Talking to the Dr. again, it finally started to make sense why they were putting off the pain meds. They felt that there was a significant chance that Kori could seize again, and they were worried that if she did so while she was in the MRI, it could ruin the scan and they would have to start over. Their recommendation was to intubate her and sedate her. I gave consent and they wasted no time pushing tubes into her and basically paralyzing her. As horrible as it was to see her with the tubes and breathing machine, it was a little relief to know she wouldn't seize and that she was no longer in pain. The MRI came back in what seemed like an eternity, they were sending scans immediately to Billings, and had already made the decision that she couldn't stay in Bozeman, whether it was operable or not. After a discussion about where it would be best to send her, it was decided that a life flight to Billings Clinic Hospital with surgery to follow Monday morning was the best choice. Initially I was told I would be able to ride with her in the helicopter, but due to load and weather, they felt it would be too much in the helicopter with me along. So I would drive, there wasn't really a decision to make at that point, even being asked if I would be OK to drive, or if I wanted someone to come with me, I knew I was leaving the second she did.
The drive was quick, not just speed, but it was a little bit of a blur, rainy, emotional and adrenalin fueled drive. I was glad no one was with me at that point, it is easier to cry and let it out when there isn't anyone else there. When I arrived at Billings Clinic, I was allowed immediately into her room, she had been there a little while and had already been settled in. I was glad to see she was what I would describe as alert. She appeared to recognize me, and I talked to her. It was a long night in a hard chair, but I wouldn't have traded it for a second anywhere other than right by her side. Sleep at this point was a waste of thought. For the most part I was alone with my thoughts and though I struggled to keep them positive, the fear became too much at times. I had talked with a couple Dr.s and then even the Neuro surgeon who would do Kori's surgery. The time couldn't come quick enough, even though it was one of the scariest things I have ever faced. The time blurred into waiting and trying to communicated with Kori. Her baby sister showed up early in the morning, and I was glad to see her, someone to talk with, and be scared with. It didn't take long and Kori's whole family was there, ready to be supportive and anything they could do. It was a welcome reprieve from the invading thoughts. After what seemed like a week, they were finally ready to take her to surgery. Aside from the seizure, watching them wheel her out of the ICU to an operating room, was the closest thing to living a nightmare that I have ever experienced. The fear, the unknown, and the emotions overcame me at that point. I took a little walk and found a bench tucked away in a corner, I sat down and completely broke down. It felt good to let go for a minute, and release some of that pent up anguish. It didn't take too long and I was able to pull it back together and rejoin everyone waiting. Trying to stay positive and pass the time, it was truly amazing to have so much support there. When they came back and gave us the news that Kori was out of surgery and it had gone well, a huge weight was lifted off my chest. We had been warned that it could take up to a full day before Kori would be alert and able to correspond with us again. Not knowing what to expect, we worked our way through the ICU to her room, and were greeted by Kori being awake and alert. She was already trying to communicate with us through sign (a skill I wish I had taken more time to learn at that point). It was amazing, I almost felt guilty the rest of the day smiling even walking through the ICU waiting room, surrounded by the pain and sorrow that plagues ICUs. But, it just didn't matter, my worst day ever had come to an end. I knew there was still a lot of unknowns, and a long road to recovery. I didn't know yet of the setbacks and additional life flight, but nothing has compared to those hours of despair. And I am grateful to push forward with that in mind!
