I buried my husband yesterday.
Today is 1/16/2013 and I buried my husband yesterday in his home town. As a U.S. Marine, Master Gunnery Sergeant (E-9), he received full military honors (21 gun salute, 6 Marine Corp pall bearers, Bag piper and Taps with a live bugler, and more).
My husband fought so hard and kept so much of his pain away from me. I simply did not know he was not only battling GBM, but also has pneumonia and Shingles due to his weakened immune system. I kick myself for being so clueless. He protected me to the end, not letting me know just how sick he was and how much pain he was in.
1/6/2013; my husband was admitted to ICU at Walter Reed Military Medical Hospital in Bethesda, MD. He could not stand and no longer wanted to use his walker. He would stop himself from drinking so he wouldn’t have to get up and use the restroom. I realize now he was shutting down and slowly dying before my eyes.
When the hospital wants to monitor the brain, they do not give any pain meds, so that they can REALLY see what is happening in the brain. They found massive hemorrhaging visible around his tumor. His platelets were low again, which contributed to his brain bleeding. They gave him four bags of platelets – bringing his count up to 101. We consulted with Neurologists – based on the fact that my husband still could not manufacture his own platelets. The Neurologists told us that a 2ndbrain surgery was now permanently off the table – due to the vascular nature of his tumor, he would bleed out on the table and die during surgery. The treatment option was more radiation, but surgery to remove the Beast would never happen.
If he could not verbalize his wishes, I had the legal power to stop or continue life-saving treatment; I can honestly say I would have continued treatment – selfishly wanting my husband with me and alive as long as possible, even if he were not conscious.
1/7/2013: Once the platelets were given the bleeding stopped and my husband was once more coherent/conscious, but still in terrible pain. Yet, his CT scans were no different in terms of the amount of blood and swelling in his brain. My husband understood that the second surgery would never happen. He spoke with the doctors and neurologists. His pneumonia was winning and there was an infection in his blood. Doctors wanted to place a tube down his throat so he could breathe better. After apologizing profusely to me, our children, and even his own brother (all present in ICU) he told the doctors he was “tired of fighting and wanted to die”. His words were clarified by the doctor. We were in tears but accepted his decision. For the first time in two days hesmiledat us. Given two shots of Morphine, he was then put on a slow morphine drip, and pain was finally easing from my husband. We said our goodbyes, spoke of the good times we all had as a family, held his hands, spoke loving, comforting words that “it was ok, we love you.” Once again my husband protected me by taking the life/death decision out of my hands and I will be forever grateful.
Six hours later my husband, my love, my soul mate, a mere 53 years old, took his last breath. He was smiling and at peace. The Beast had won, the pneumonia acting to speed up his death. My husband chose to go out of the world on his own terms, and I am proud of him.
I fly home today to mourn the loss of my husband, our life together, and the years we have been robbed of.