Sigh. This is going to be an outright novel. No one needs to respond if they don't want to because I know what I am about to say is uncomfortable at best. I don't have anywhere else to say it though. I can't talk about this out loud without losing it, my husband is unreceptive (I think because it hurts) and my daughter doesn't deserve the burden. It might seem stupid, if you weren't there...a TV show should not trigger such things. But it can, and it did. So please don't feel obligated to respond or reply if you are not so inclined, but I just need to get this out or risk depression.
So just over two years ago, on March 3rd 2011, I got what I now consider to be the worst phone call of my life, worse than the one before it in which I learned of the death of my ex-fiance and best friend. On March 3rd one of my best friends called, she told me her son (my 14yo "Godson, I'm an Athiest, but you get the idea,) was dying, that he had drowned and that I had to come as fast as I could. I bolted out the door and arrived two hours later after dropping my kids with a sitter and driving 90 miles. The whole way there I told myself that it wasn't really so bad, that the story I was getting was the "freaked out mommy" version and that I would arrive to find that they had already been released to go home, I wasted the trip. That is not what I found. After finding the PICU (it's not just for babies) I found Nick, he was alone as his parents had gone to pick up his grandma and auntie and could not be alone from each other, so it was just me for about 15 minutes...me and Nick and the PICU nurses. As soon as I saw him I knew, I knew he was gone.
Long story short, but Nick had been huffing inhalants and had done so in the bathtub causing him to pass out, hit his head, and drown. His mother and toddler brother found him, his disabled step-dad (dad) somehow pulled him from the tub, and he did CPR for what they said felt like an eternity until the paramedics arrived. His mother and brothers watched, helpless. At the hospital the kept working on him, and they got his heart back...but his brain was gone. It was a few after that when I got the phone call.
At the same time there had been an accident and a teenage girl ran her car into the back of a bus, one of the passengers, her brother, was unrestrained. He was ejected. His name was Connor, and his family was fighting their own battle along side us. As it turned out, Nicks mom Danielle, and Connors mom knew each other from Cub Scouts or something a few years prior. Connor too, was on life support.
There was drama, Nicks mom and dad were teenagers when he was born and things didn't work out. Nick's paternal grandma is a...difficult woman. But in the end both Michael (Nick's father) and Danielle agreed to terminate life support and donate Nick's organs. I was there every step of every moment, Nick's family insisted that I was family, and I was involved in everything...so I was. I supported Chris, Nick's paternal grandma, because she was so alone and fragile. I did it because she needed it, I was the only one with enough strength to "spare" to do it. I dislike and pity the woman now, but during that time she NEEDED someone, so it was me. I brought her and Michael coffee, hugs, whatever they needed and didn't have (they were from out of town.) I won that woman over during that time, because it was the right thing to do. I sat there as they all prayed, I stepped behind them because I am an Atheist and my space was better served by someone who prays. My heart shattered inside as they begged their God to save Nick and it didn't happen.
I ran interference when Danielle freaked out on the nurses, when she didn't sleep or eat. I made things happen, made phone calls, got people in to say goodbye, made funeral arrangements etc. The only thing I didn't do was go to the cemetery to make arrangements in person, because I was asked to stay with Nick, he was never alone after those first few minutes while everyone gathered. The whole time I stayed strong. I kept my tears at the absolute minimum, I didn't break down even when upset parents blamed ME for their teenagers being upset over Nick. I didn't break down when the Ice Queen flipped out. I somehow hid my breakdown when I listened to Connor's mom wail while Danielle sobbed, singing to her baby while cradling him in bed, and the nurses finally broke down and cried openly because they could not leave the room. Connor was supposed to be an organ donor too, so we went through this whole process with another family and we leaned on each other...but I can't remember their names. But Connor's parents asked for a second opinion and a special doctor flew in from UC Davis to give it and they ran special tests on Connor, and they found that Connor had a small percentage of brain activity, 2% I think...and anything over 1% means not brain dead which means they cannot begin organ recovery until the heart has stopped and by the time the heart stops the organs are usually damaged. So by 1% of negligible brain activity, Connor would no longer be able to save lives, yet there was no hope of recovery. This made his death that much harder for everyone to handle, especially his mother who wailed. A mother wailing over her dead child is a sound you cannot forget, ever. It's a sound that touches anyone who hears it, but another mothers feels it in her core and it physically HURTS. Nick's death was horrible, but everyone knew going in that we had lost him. For Connor's family they had hope, then it was taken, then given again, then taken along with the hope of his organs saving others. Conner being there made everything we experienced with Nick magnified and I imagine we magnified things for his family as well.
For 3 long days I gave every ounce of myself to the situation. My husband was upset because "your own family needs you," and I was spending money we didn't have to drive back and forth, buy food etc. I was sleeping on the floor in friends houses, eating whatever was offered, and relying on others to do my own parenting. At one point I nearly died driving home at 4 am, a herd of horses ran across the road in front of me, at full speed in a 50mph zone. Somehow at that hour a truck was coming towards me and being up higher and probably more alert he saw those horses coming into my path and he turned on every light he had (brights, light rack etc) to blind me and force me into slowing down. He saved my life.
This whole time we were waiting, they were trying to save Nicks heart and lungs which had been damaged by oxygen loss, mostly due to the chemicals in the DustOff he had huffed. Finally, at just after 1am on March 6th 2011 it was time to take Nick into the OR to harvest his organs. When you see it on TV there aren't other people in the halls, only staff. When you see it on TV its maybe 50ft to the elevator and another 50 to the OR entrance. When you see it on TV it's back hallways and sterile environments, service elevators that only staff uses. In real life it's not like that, and I am SO glad it was 1am, not 1pm. Anyone looking could see a child on that gurney, and anyone watching knew that the grief displayed was not fear of a surgery or something, but was a mother kissing her baby goodbye forever. So as they wheeled Nick from the PICU to the elevators leading up to the OR floor we all flocked with them, all with a hand on him. In my memories it feels like torturous slow motion, but as it was happening it felt like I was running full speed towards a speeding train. It wasn't too bad until we got to the main floor, but then we had to go through the main hub/intersection/lobby of the hospital and despite the hour there were people milling around. I remember their faces. Some of them looked away, not sure how to react. Some bowed their heads in obvious prayer for these grieving strangers. One woman covered her eyes. Some walked away as quickly as they could without it being obvious that they just wanted away from this emotional mess. Some stopped and stared, jaws on the floor, unable to believe that they were really seeing this raw emotion right there in front of them. Some looked like it was a train wreck. I didn't blame any of them, they didn't know how to handle it any better than anyone else. But at that moment I could almost read their thoughts and put myself and their shoes and I actually felt sorry for THEM because they had to sit there and watch a half dozen or so people falling apart and they didn't even understand why. All they knew is what they could put together by watching the scene unfold.
Finally, we reached the elevators where we would part with the transplant team, and Nick, and walk away. Suddenly it was happening too fast yet not fast enough all at the same time. To give credit where it is due, not one staff member rushed, or even looked rushed..., but they gently separated us and said it was time to go and I could see in their eyes that for every one of them this was the worst part of their jobs and that many of them would cry at some point later, when home with their families. I know for some of them it was twice in a row since they had just done something almost identical with Connor's family. And then they got into the elevators and the doors closed, we walked around the corner and that is when we all sat at the benches and broke down. A few people glanced or walked by, but everyone averted their eyes this time...some unspoken human gesture of giving us the space we needed. I had a box of tissues, and suddenly they were empty, and I remember a stranger tapping me on the shoulder and handing me another box. She said nothing, just handed me the box, he eyes said "I'm sorry for whatever happened" and she walked away. Suddenly we felt homeless. For the last 3 days homebase had been Renown Regional Medical Center, we had that placed mapped out and knew what was open when, who was on staff. For 3 days, that hospital is all we knew. Where does everyone go at 2 am when no one has money to sit in Denny's ordering coffee and crying? Nick didn't have a bedside to congregate at anymore, it was time to leave and that made it so final.
Over the next weeks and months I continued to be the "rock", and it finally caught up with me. But it seems like tonight after watching a simple TV show (Grey's Anatomy) portraying a family losing a member and organ donation, it's all hit me again. It's fresh, like it was yesterday. So many parallels that I could not help but flashback 2 years...it is so vivid I can see, hear, smell, and taste it all.. right now.
So if anyone actually read this... you.are.amazing. I typed all this for me, because I had to tell Nick's story or risk a breakdown. If you have questions you are welcome to ask, especially if you are coping with a loss, or have a teen you are concerned could be on drugs. There are more details I would include if I could, but my computer is being crazy and if I don't submit this now I will lose all of it and I have typed for almost an hour! Edit: Make that 2 hours.
