Hi, its me Laura and I've posted previously regarding my 38 yr old brother Nat. Nat was first diagnosed in Feb 2003 and passed away Nov 6, 2003. I always took care of him even when he was a baby and although he was a year younger than me, he sometimes played the role of the "big brother".
Now that he's gone, I find myself questioning if I did enough for him. Maybe we should've switched Drs., maybe even try some experimental treatments, anything which may have prolonged his short life. During his wake and funeral friends and neighbors told me I did more than expected but it just doesn't seem that way to me. I feel that there must have been something else, anything.
I know he’s now with my mom and dad in heaven and he no longer has any more pain or suffering. The day before he died he was in agony, his back was sooooo sore and he kept asking me to help him and I gave him his meds and tried to make him more comfortable to somewhat lessen the pain, nothing worked. The hospice nurse even suggested to Nat that he go to the hospital for the pain control, but he refused. The nurse stayed all night with him so that could get some sleep and she left around 8 in the morning, Nat had been asleep since 2am. I sat with him and tried many times to wake him up by shaking his shoulders and calling his name. I even told him that he was scaring me by not waking up, but nothing worked. I sat with him all morning, taking the blessed oils we had from both St. Jude and Padre Pio and placing crosses on his forehead and chest, in some hope to wake him up and I even called my Aunt Mary to come over to see him and we could pray over him together. Still wouldn't wake up. I was monitoring his heart rate and respirations and his heart was racing at 145 beats per minute and his resps were only at 10 and they were very shallow. then at 1:28 he awoke, yelling in pain and mumbling to the point that I couldn't make out what he was trying to say. My aunt was asking me what he was saying and I didn't know. I asked him if he needed any pain meds since he hadn't had and since 2am and I tried to give him only 1/3 of the dose of the liquid morphine for the breakthrough pain, but he didn't swallow any. Then I noticed that he was having major problems breathing and I had already called the hospice nurse to come over right away, she was too late. While my aunt rubbed his forehead and I held his hand and rubbed his chest, I watched in Horror as my brother passed away right before my eyes and I kept yelling for him to breathe but he didn't. Now I have regrets that I didn't call 911, I also rack my brain to figure out what he was trying to tell me right before he died, but I guess I'll never know the answer to that.
Now I sit there and look at the empty bed and I look at his dogs with the sadness in their eyes because they know that their daddy is gone ( they went in Nat’s truck to the funeral, who was driven by his best friend ). Nat definitely would've wanted his dogs to be there, no matter who didn't like it. I truly believed that Nat would beat it, after all he was only 38, previously in excellent health, and strong as an Ox. Even Nat said that he would beat it and he was determined to do so, and he was doing really well for a while. He actually walked upstairs and was using the walker around the house, I was sooooo proud of him.
So again, I sit and wonder if it was all enough, was there something else I could've done. Well I guess I ‘ll never get that answer now will I.