So you think things are going better
Walking out, abandoning dying husband. Is this a faithful wife?
Having a swat team surround the home while she cowers at work afraid of a husband who was only cleaning the guns he and their son used at the shooting range sounds like it really is a crime in need of a swat team?
I confirmed my sons account with the police.
p.s. I wasn’t sure which email address you were using.
8:56 PM (10 hours ago)
Thank you. One voice in the wilderness is not enough to overhaul all the wrongs in the health care system. Thank God I am old and will die. Young people die every die their dreams never fulfilled. I am the least of these to grieve.
God wil take care of those who committed unjust acts on me and my son. I do not have to do anything.
Speaking out does not help.
Thank you to all whom have read my pages here.
This speaks to my latest blog…It was time to speak, my intuition.
The best way to know when to speak or to remain silent,
is by cultivating the art of listening to your intuition.
Holy Spirit, the loving light and sound of God,
speaks to those whose inner ears and eyes are open.
Text & image source: Jean-Pierre Royal Gregoire https://web.facebook.com/lovestruehome
First, I would like to hear your story and/or experience with one of these “new” additions to hospitals. Mine, as a mom, was far from good at Dominican Hospital in Santa Cruz County, CA.
My opinion, is that a Dr. Hannah, expedited my son’s death to get rid of me, therefore I feel not only guilty but also very angry.
One day or the same day when she read my son’s Advanced Directive, he died. The Charge Nurse, Linda, asked me if he had one. I said he did and gave her a copy. In his Advanced Directive he had written in that as long as his brain was alive he was to be kept alive. This was not followed.
She, Dr. Hannah, called me out to tell me he was dying but I said that there was a team of doctors working on getting him transferred to a facility to bulk him up from his 104 pounds to a reasonable weight so that his liver could be ablated and could get him ready for a multiviseral transplant which had been successfully performed before in Miami. We had waited all week to hear where he would go next. She came in , not up to date on anything, and changed everything, just like all the previous weekend doctors.
She spoke with him without me in the room so I do not know what she told him.
That morning the RN had tried to give him his medication before going off duty. His esphoghus was constricted so he needed really warm tea to open it as much as possible but I had not been up to get this task done hiwever, all the nurses knew that this was needed. The medication got stuck and he choked until I handed him the suction tool to suck out the object. He never recovered. They brought in the respiratory team to warm the oxygen but this seemed to burn his lungs so even though they changed the level of heat, it was removed. His oxygen level was set at five; this did not seem extremely high to me but when Respiratory left and a nurse started to turn the oxygen level up she, this Dr. Hannah, shook her head and they stopped.
In my head, all I can hear is him saying over and over, “please help me, please help me” . I did not know what to do; went to find help but no one did anymore for him so I watched him die from waking up at around 7 a.m. until 3 p.m. I knew they were letting him die. I knew they wanted me out because they were afraid of a malpractice suit which was not my intent. I wanted them to give him the best medical treatment to keep him alive. That was the reason for all my verbal rants.
We propped him up in bed. I was not strong enough to hold him up but sat behind him and pushed with all my strength to keep him as straight as possible and felt my heart breaking.
Cindy, an RN, sat beside him most of the day. I was trying to call family so there were times I was out of the room to call or to cry and then get myself together before going back in.
Sentences he said that day:
Too little, too late
Like Steve Jobs, I over analyzed,
I should have just gotten a job flipping hamburgers.
I want to be buried by Pa Lad.
I love you.
Call…. ask them to pray…..Chris, Tammy……And others. Dennis was calling everyone. I called his Dad and said he could hear and I can tell you what he is saying which was “I love you. I love you, I love you”. I called his sister and my sister and then I put my arm around his shoulders, holding him as gently as possible as he put his head on my left shoulder and died. I held him for a little while but when the fluids escaped from his mouth, I knew his body had released his soul and he was gone from this physical realm.
There is one more thing that happened that day, I knew that I needed to give him permission to go so I said, “God told me his computers were down and he needed you to come home and fix them and to add to his troubles two angels got into a squabble and one walked off and your voice is the voice he needs. I will be o.k. God needs you. You go and be with God. I promise to move back home so I will be close to you and Daddy,” He did say, “We will be home for dinner” and sort of smiled. His brain was alive. I let him die; that doctor killed him. He said very little to nothing after that,
I should have tried harder; I am angry with the doctor, that hospital, God and the wife who walked off and left him to die alone and emotionally abused him for years.
How do I let all this go? What do I do now? They all deserve to die a horrible death, is my opinion, as do I.
Forgiving them does not take away the anger.
After a hectic morning, achieving little, I opened my mailbox, mind someplace else, when all of a sudden out flew millions, if not trillions, of butterflies all making this marvelous tinkling sound like a wind chime. The colors were awesome.
I blinked in disbelief as I watched all the colors merging together, the sound of Mozart’s Fifth Symphony echoing back as everything became invisible behind the dark clouds.
A box sat on top of a few pieces of mail. A plain brown box. I had been told to expect something in the mail but I thought maybe a card would arrive, not a box. A box portends many things these days, but this one I knew was safe.
I had not eaten anything today and it was almost 2 p.m. so I thought I would have some Tomato Bisque with pretzels as I enjoyed opening this box. Sissors would be required so I placed them by my chair, brought the food tray and water to the side table and began the process of eating and opening the box. I wanted the process to last. It would be the highlight of my long day.
As I examined the label I discovered it came from Naturesroom but no other clue
was given. My mind being stressed tends to only vaguely remember everything that I need to remember but I did recall that a virtual friend, Bonnie, had said to expect something in the mail and I had replied I would be back in Huntsville on May 22. Hopefully, this is correct.
Inside the box, there was brown packing paper
and yet another box. This box looked at me beckoning me to set it free from the other box. Granting the boxes wish, I removed it and thought that it seemed heavy for such a pretentious box.
Not having glasses on, I could not read what the outside said so once again the box wanted me to set free the contents. Obeying an inner command, I opened the box to find loads of tissue paper. The top looked domed, and as I picked it up the sound of tinkling wind chimes came again except much clearer than before; the colors of turquoise and black emerged and a long streamer of wrapped objects hung before me.
I carefully unwrapped each one and gently said “hello” to the fine craftsman display of butterflies hanging from a bell like object.
Putting on my glasses I read that these were the world’s favorite wind chimes called Woodstock Chimes. The information was fascinating. It stated that the art of casting metal has been around for thousands of years. The ancient ones created utility items as well as items of great beauty by heating metal until it reaches a molten state and can be poured into a mold.
Further reading delighted me to find that a musician, Gary Kvistad, in 1979, founded Woodstock Percussion with one single great idea…to make the world’s best sounding windchime. The wind chimes are precision tuned and delight people of all ages worldwide.
Today I became the owner of such a fine instrument… placing the ladder, I carefully hung the WoodstockButterfly Chime from my kitchen window where the cardinals come to speak to me or the doves wait patiently for the crumbs I place on the ground for them… they will hear and delight in this wonderful sound drifting from the window up through the leaves of the maple tree riding the wind into the heavens for all to hear.
No greater gift could a dear friend send me at this time. The sounds touched my bruised soul with the lovely music and softly whispered that life holds many new/old things I have yet to know and living each day will bring these things to me.