The Final Hours

I’ve been dreading this one. Today is the interview with the Doctor’s to discuss Gail’s final hours. I need divine help on this one, Pet.

It was another hugely traumatic day. I posted later

Thanks for the support everybody but that was horrible, horrible, horrible. Addenbrooke’s were superb and I have nothing but thanks and admiration for what the Doctors tried to do for Gail at the end and I am grateful for the time spent by the Bereavement Care team and the Consultant who I met today, who was there at the end of Gail’s life. He explained in great detail what they were faced with and how they tried to save her.

I needed that knowledge, but the fact is that going through Gail’s final hours is more pain than I could possibly envisage. Knowing the man sitting in front of me has seen the love of my life breath her last while I hadn’t been there, just tore me apart. I was forced to ask questions that I knew I didn’t want the answer too. Did Gail ask for me? No, she didn’t. Then, inevitably, just as I got the rush of relief from learning she hadn’t asked where I was, I got the equally insane rush of ‘WHY didn’t she ask for me?’

I learnt she was ‘very confused’ before her vital organs began to shut down. I accepted that knowledge but at the back of my mind I was asking ‘How do you know?’. You didn’t know her, how do you know she wasn’t talking sensibly? How do you define confusion? I have been tempted to ring back and ask on many occasions but commonsense prevails. The Doctor told me they don’t record conversations so no-one is going to be able to tell me the specifics of what she said.

This was a savage experience; one few understood when I told them what I was doing and why I had to do it. Sadly, my parents showed a stunning lack of compassion; ringing me and insisting on discussing something that could have waited, even though they knew where I was. A bad day all round and one I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

I managed to get back to my car where I just broke down and sobbed uncontrollably for about 30 minutes. Being back at the hospital, at that time was…. Just one of the bad days.

An image burnt into my memory. Walking out of this door in the early hours of Sunday 31st July 2018.

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