All Things Must Come...

to an end.

It is with a heavy heart and relieved mind (sort of) that I type this. My husband, after fighting for over 6 years, has lost the war with diabetes. It was time. He couldn't fight anymore. His body just couldn't take it any longer. He was a shell of the person he used to be and it was sad to see him deteriorate to such levels, both physically and mentally. Sometimes the looks on his face were just too heartbreaking! I knew he was suffering at this point and there was only so much I could do.

I did, however, fulfill the promise that I made to him years ago when he first fell ill. I promised him that I wouldn't allow him to die in a nursing home surrounded by strangers and that I would be by his side when he would draw his last breath. I remember I reminded him of this promise not that long ago and he said, "you will do that for me?" "Of course", I said. It happened just like we wanted.

I had taken him to his appointment on this past Monday with the vascular surgeon to look at the foot with the unhealing pressure sore. That doctor told us he'd have to amputate his lower, left leg from above the knee. I knew that was the blow that would take him out. I saw what little fight John had left at that point just take wings and fly. I didn't want to think it was coming so soon. He had pretty much stopped eating meals at this point and we were relying on the tube feedings for his nutritional needs.

He went to dialysis on Tuesday, just as he did every Tuesday for the last 6 years and returned home with the dreaded sound of a dying patient. It's known as the "death rattle". A sound that once you hear it, you'll never forget it and you'll always recognize it when you hear it again. I knew in my heart it was over. He struggled to breathe and he was having constant diarrhea and then the vomiting started and it was just a dark brown liquid. I knew then he didn't have much time. The Lord was purging John's system and getting him ready for his new, glorious home and body. You can't enter into heaven unclean. (At least that's how I view sort of.)

He lasted until Wednesday morning at about 5:30am. I didn't sleep a wink Tuesday night because I knew it was coming. After tossing and turning on the sofa all evening, I got up at 5am and headed toward our bedroom. I turned on the overhead light and called his name. "John". His eyes flew open but they weren't seeing very much. I then said, "I'm going to take a shower and then I'll check your sugar level and then we'll get ready for your appointment". He was scheduled for that amputation at 10am, 7/22 at a local hospital. I took my shower and 10 minutes later I was at his side. He was gasping for breath at this point. Moving his head to help get in as much air as he could. I took his hand and said, "John, you don't have to fight any longer. It's ok Baby. Jesus is waiting for you. Go ahead and run to the light. Derrick (our son) and your mother are there as well. I'll be ok." {Gasp} I called his name because I wasn't quite finished. I said, "John, take another breath". He did. {Gasp}. I said, "I love you and I'll see you when I get there." I kissed him on the forehead and he slumped over. I listened for his breathing. Silence. I got my stethoscope and listened to his chest. Again, silence. I called 911, told them my husband had passed and I had a DNR (do not resuscitate) order. They sent the paramedics to pronounce him. Official time of death.....05:49am EST.

That was it. After 6 long years, the war had ended. My husband was no longer suffering. No fanfare. No thunder. No drum rolls. Just peace. Love and compassion. I had to let him go. I couldn't watch it any longer. It was starting to make me ill to see him struggle in his weakened state. He did the best he could for as long as he could. I'm so proud to have called him husband. He was a good man.

I will continue this blog until we lay him to rest and perhaps afterwards for a little longer. I'm sure I will miss the constant need to do something for him. I hope that I made some kind of difference in the end. I hope I made it easier for him somehow. The relief for both of us was instantaneous. I loved him with all my heart and soul and it meant a lot to me to have him home with us in the end. I know that's what he wanted. I wouldn't trade these last few months for any amount of money on this earth. There were moments that belonged to just us. I needed it, John needed it. I apologized for any stupid remarks I had made over the last 6 years, for my attitude at times and for just the fact that he didn't feel well for most of that 6 years. He tried to be the trooper but he wasn't going to lose his leg. I knew it and so did he. And that was ok.

And so there goes the circle of life my friends. John and I had 25 years together. Happiness, sadness, joy, love, laughter and tears. Those make for a great hodgepodge of a relationship. He taught me a lot of life's lessons in these past 6 years. It was a humbling experience. The bumps along way only served to make us stronger and bring us closer together. I will forever miss him.

In memory of my husband, John W. Freeman, 2/3/1939 - 7/22/09. A life well lived.

I love you John,

Always your keeper.