Baylee627

Week goals: 1. Attend two yoga sessions 2. Attend two Zumba sessions and/or treadmill intervals Gotta get this fitness thing off the ground. I need to get back in shape, but I need the endorphins like nobody's bidness! Baylee

Still love looking through everyone's pics. They clutch at my heart. Baylee

Maureen, so poignant was your letter. I am so sorry that you mourn not one, but two husbands...unfathomable that anyone should have to do that. Thank you for sharing this letter with us. Tight hugs to you! Baylee

Sending a prayer the job is yours and hope the answer arrives soon! Baylee

Hey there, are you trying to upload a pic from your phone or from a pic hosting site such as photobucket or tinypic.com or a pic stored on your PA hard drive? Directions are a bit differing for each. Let me know which one and I'll post directions. Baylee

Anabelle, a gift from Brooks. She's now 2 years old, and Miss Attitude!! I tell her that cuteness won't get her everywhere (but it usually does for her).

I'm so sorry, Carey. I avoid DH's funeral songs, and the one song I know would plunge me over the edge--my song to him: My Love Follows You Where You Go, by Allison Krauss. Music is very powerful. I so get this. Hugs to you. Baykee

As I recounted in yesterday's post, my MIL and I kept bedside vigil all night. Brooks had a multitude of lines and tubes emerging from various veins, arteries and orifices. The muffled rhythmic pumps of air influx from his respirator was oddly comforting --it was his very lifeline--but the chimes and bells from the monitors that would alert us to a change in his condition, such as his pulse or his oxygen sats, had me on the edge of a meltdown each time they'd go off. (Later, my PTSD would be attributed to these sounds. Seriously, wanna see me loose my shit, ring my doorbell). Nursing staff would swoop in and reassure us all was still well after they'd checked all his lines and his vitals and stats. Family and friends started to shuffle in, and since the ICU only permitted two visitors at a time, we took turns. Brooks was comatose and made mostly non purposeful movements, but he did move his head towards you if you called his name. That afternoon, I decided I'd had enough, so I bent down on the left side of him and pleaded--implored--him to please open his eyes. I could see him struggling to push his eyelids up--his face turning red and contorting in the process. But he did it!!! There were his coffee colored eyes. His pupils and glassy stare clearly indicated how medicated he was, but he was sharing eye contact with me! I held his face in my hands, I pressed my nose to his. I needed to be as close to him as possible--didn't want to miss a detail. I crooned: hi, baby! Hello there! I'm so happy to see you! My precious baby and his beautiful peepers! He must have garnered every last reserve of strength to pull it off because his eyes clamped back down, and he abruptly fell back onto his pillow and the next thing we heard was light snoring and his vitals gave the appearance of sleep. I was flooded with gratefulness, with hope, and I felt like now all I had to do was wait for him to wake up. But he'd said his hello, that he was back by responding to me. Mom was even able to cajole me to eat my first bite of food in almost 36 hours. I ate half a bowl of cheerios in the hospital cafeteria and expressed my relief and gratitude, because Brooks would be spared this time. Hindsight being what it is, I later realized he hadn't been saying hello to me, he was giving me as proper a goodbye as he could muster. He wanted to see me one last time, and he knew I'd needed to see him, as well. I'll never forget this last gift to me. I'll never know what strength it took to give it. Baylee

Mangomom, try uploading your pics to tinypic.com-you can choose from several size variations on each pic you upload. Also, I think I remember Bear recommended shrinkpictures.com on another thread, so you may want to give that one a whirl. Hope this helps, Baylee

^^^Awesome gal right there. A lady and a scholar! Baylee

No worries, Nonesuch and Maureen. Mods are definitely watching interactions and should yall see anything going down that ain't copacetic, alert one or more mods, and it's going to be reviewed and mitigated. Free speech should prevail, and if people disagree or verbally spar, fine. But if it gets disparaging or nasty, that won't be tolerated. No wid needs that in their life! Baylee

Reality TV. I've had enough book- learnin's! I needs me a steady television diet of sleaze and intrigue! Rock --Or-- Country??

Good lawd, Michael. This is freaking great material! Cuh-lassic! Once again, amidst immense pain, your post caused me to laugh right through my tears. Baylee

Lcoxwell, I personally have heard other members express admiration for your insightful and pure and sweet posts. Your genuinous shines through in your writing, and it's appreciated by more folks than you may be aware of. Just thought I'd share that! Baylee

I also miss Nuggets. She's a character, and has oodles of wisdom to offer. Baylee

I think Michael and his Radio Hell is pure brilliance. Such a wildly creative approach/vantage to widowhood. I'll be anticipating the return of it. Baylee

A year ago, today, I had left work for a mid-day therapy appointment. My habit was to call my bestie and gab with her while I raced to my therapist's office. But that day, I had this "inner check" that I should call DH instead. Thank heavens I listened to my instinct, because it was to be the last time I heard his voice. We spoke about his hectic day at work, and in true Brooks fashion, he wanted to know the deets about what I would be making for dinner that night. I explained I was actually going to be trying out a new recipe, and he wanted the 4-1-1 regarding the ingredients, but with specific emphasis on whether or not there would be enough beef in it for his liking. What can I say, the man loved dinner! Just before hanging up, we exchanged "I love you's" and I said: ok, bye! He had this slightly pregnant pause and hesitantly said: bye. I remember wondering if there was something more he'd wanted to say. I briefly entertained calling him back straightaway, but realized I was already running late for therapy. Well, I'd mused, I'll ask him about that tonight at dinner; it'll keep til then No sooner had my session wrapped, and my phone was blowing up - messages from all mine and his family, texts...I had a chilled, sinking feeling as my cell rang in my hands. My SIL asked me if I'd spoken to my in-laws...no... She relayed, in her calm manner, that Brooks had had another seizure at work and was going to be care flighted into the hospital. Screaming and in floods of tears, I collapsed onto the floor if the lobby of the doctor's office. Trembling, I reached my FIL on his cell. He confirmed seizures and then added that Brooks was suffering a "little trouble breathing" so he was intubated. What the hell? Surely some mistake... Panic stricken, I sped to the hospital. His helicopter had not arrived yet. I went outside and stood as close to the landing pad as was permitted. Finally, around 45 minutes later, it landed. I watched as they were unloading Brooks' gurney...much too slowly. My guts literally twisted because they were being so careful--too careful, more so than I'd ever seen. It was over 30 min before a nurse came out and addressed me. He said: your husband is in critical condition; he's on the vent, and he's in a coma. I just wanted to prepare you. I don't remember this, but my mom said that she and a nurse caught me as I passed out. The next thing I do recall is awaking in some sort of private waiting room. Finally, the trauma nurse brought me back to the trauma room. There he was, lying flatter than looked normal on his gurney, blood pooling beneath his head from the gash to his occipital scalp and trickling onto the floor, and collecting, shapeless, but spreading. The sight was devastating. I whispered to Mom: this looks like a funeral pit. Whatever that is. All I feared is that what I was seeing was not compatible with life. The trauma physician ticked off all of Brooks' current issues: Acute Respiratory Failure, Acute Kidney Failure, Shock Liver, rhabdomyolysis and a GCS of 3. Oh my God, oh my God. The neurosurgeon joined us in the trauma room. He stated that preliminary CT'S and other tests showed cerebral edema and demonstrated increased intracranial pressure. He implored that we must act quickly because Brooks' best line of defense was a ventriculostomy. I asked: will he make it through that? Will he be okay? His eyes flickered, and he pointed to Heaven and said: we need Him. He made it through the first hurdle, the surgery. The neurosurgeon warned us that the next 48 hours would be critical, and would "tell the tale." He did allow that he had hope for Brooks because he was a fighter. We were admitted to the ICU that evening, and my MIL and I kept bedside vigil next to his bed. Something that they don't tell you about coma patients is that they aren't necessarily still and peacefully sleeping like you see in the movies or TV. No, they thrash about, their arms and legs flail, they grimace, etc. Brooks was so agitated his back would raise right off the mattress. He had to be restrained, which broke my heart. Especially when he resisted against them. But he was still on life support, so it was a necessary evil. The nurse turned on classical music as part of Brooks' music therapy. I'm sure he'd have preferred country, but the nurse chose the channel over my suggestion. I'll never forget that at about 3am, the instrumental version of "Moon River" came on. Later, I reflected on the lyrics and was struck by the poignancy. Moon river, wider than a mile, I'm crossing you in style--someday. oh, you dream maker, you're a heartbreaker, wherever you're going, I'm going your way. Baylee

This was articulated so well. Thank you! Sometimes I feel like others like to append the word "strong" to wids so that they don't have to feel compelled to reach below the facade and discover how despairing, lonely, or terrified we were or continue to be. "You're so strong," neatly keeps things at the surface-level. Just my lil observation... Baylee

Absolutely normal! I was on an anger binge from around four months out to almost seven months. I mean, we were cheated out of a full lifetime with our spouses. The loss of them violates our sense of fairness. What's not to be angry about? It's part of the grief process, so oddly, it's healthy anger. Feel what you need to feel, do what you need to do, and make no apologies. Baylee

The attitude inherent in the post smacked of--"well, I've done my part in helping wids online, but I'm at a point where I've grown apathetic about that, but I'm awesome because--lookey-look--I'm STILL expending my charitable efforts helping local wids IRL. But y'all are survivors! Now..buh-bye" Two fingers firmly down throat. Yes, they did help innumerable wids in search of comfort over the years. But the way that they cut us off so abruptly, and with no offer to relinquish the site to a willing bunch of wids who would've gladly taken the reigns, put a bad taste in everyone's mouths and seemed unemotional and detached in its handling. Bottom line, it was poorly handled and the FB post was smug and discourteous. Baylee

Today marks the year anniversary of my last remaining "normal" night together. I recall he was very tired and foggy that evening, which was nothing new those last few months. We had dinner together and he remarked how good it was, and I remember being a bit sheepish since it was a snap to make, nothing special. We finished dinner---he had showered while I'd made it--and he told me he wanted to get to bed early. One lighthearted moment presented itself when he plodded into the kitchen wearing my flip-flops, his feet literally crammed into them. He said, "Sugar, what happened to my flip flops?" I threw my head back in laughter. "Those are MY flip-flops, Silly Goose! I joined him in bed a couple hours later. For some reason, I reached over and patted his left bicep and whispered, "I love you, Sweetie." This is not something I engaged in much in those last months, as his sleeping patterns had grown increasingly erratic, and he was easily stirred from sleep, and often restless. I didn't rouse to or even feel his goodbye kiss the next morning, the day he would slip into a coma. I know he did kiss me, because he was nothing if he wasn't a creature of habit. He never deviated in certain routines of his. And a year later, it still haunts me that that moment passed me by while I soundly slept. Baylee

Wishing I could envelope you in a big hug. Or just sit beside you silently and pat your hand, the way my Grana does when I'm really at a loss for words. Or strength to say them. She pats my hand and murmurs, "There, there, Sugar." I'll be looking for your "year post". The words will come, just let them flow, raw and unedited when they do. Thinking of you tonight, lil missy. Baylee

Uproarious! Envisioning that made me laugh hard. If only we had an actual photo of this!! Baylee

I resolve to: 1. Get off my lazy widda ass and return to regular yoga, Zumba and running. I used to be a health nut; now I'm just an unhealthy nut! Womp, womp, womp! 2. Finally paint my upstairs game room. I think I've finally grasped that it ain't gonna paint itself. And don't think I haven't waited to see if it would! 3. Procure myself a coffee-fetching cabana boy. Only kidding! 4. Eat more healthfully. Valentine's and Easter candies are not substitutes for meals. 5. Join a new life group at church, one that doesn't revolve around which lady is ovulating and who might turn up preggo next. 5. Learn that "no" is a complete sentence, because I stress myself out way too much by saying "yes" to too many things. Baylee

Our site has changed, but our sense of community has not. I miss the ywbb, but it was certainly perceptible how little attention was being given to monitoring it by admin and mods (for a variety of undisclosed reasons). Baylee