Month: July 2019

Okay, remember in the last post about these two weeks of hellish dates. I said something about confronting them head on. Well that was a bunch of bullshit. These dates have kicked my ass. I barely sleep and I cannot stop reliving every moment of those days. Today was the last day I heard her voice. The day they figured out what was wrong yet couldn’t save her. It was too late. It was late tonight going into tomorrow that Terri raced me back to the hospital only to round that corner and see my baby receiving CPR. It all comes back every night. I can feel the air, see the corner, see the room, hear the screaming, feel my body lose control. As they did compression on her heart mine was ripped from chest and still feels like it is missing. I am exhausted beyond words. PTSD is like that. It lurks in dark places and sneaks up on you at the most innocent of times. They are not just dates. They are milestones in my life. Two years without her, one of the loves of my life, my best friend, my mini-me, my everything.

One thing that has been noticeable is how things keep going. In April her birth tree blossomed like it does every year, but she was not here to blossom alongside it. This month to signal the dates from hell my tiger lilies and shasta daisies bloomed. I planted them 17 years ago. I don’t tend them, I really do nothing. Yet July rolls in and there they are. The same plants. The same flowers Hayley would pick and bring to me until there were no blooms left on the plants. They march on. I don’t.

Being back to work is both a blessing and a curse. The distraction is helpful and I feel useful. The cause is worthy. At the same time I have to deal with people when all I want to do is curl up and cry or sleep. I am stressed out because my weight has creeped up since starting the job. This impacts the energy that I need to get up every morning, yet I don’t have the energy to care.

Scott is back to the hammock of grief. The weather has allowed him to put the hammock out. The gift Hayley gave him that he says was the best thing ever. He spends every evening and all weekend in that thing. He has his electronics. He is skilled at escaping and I am jealous. I don’t include Henry in my writings because I respect his privacy. He is a typical 17 year old. He spends more time with friends than he does with us. I miss the little boy. We are making him go to the coast next week with us. My cousin is flying up from Nevada to be with me. I know I am lucky that the support is there. I hope that being at the beach is soothing, I hope it brings me some sense of peace. Hayley was all about water. She always had to be near it.

Hayley was an amazing daughter. She was funny, real and kind. She could make me laugh when I was mad. I could always make her smile even when she was trying not to. I would give away my life for her to have hers back. But this is not a movie, this is real life and real life sucks.

They are just dates I say to myself but it is foolish to believe it. Today starts nearly two weeks of date hell. Today was the anniversary of Hayley’s surgery, July 11th. It is impossible not to think about what we were doing. Yesterday we went to her favorite restaurant at Redmond Town Center. Got her new PJS and comfortable tops. This morning she was nervous but excited. She asked me “Can I die?”. I told her there with risks with any surgery but since she was having an epidural it would be safer. We were very confident in her surgeon. She wore my Disney zip up jacket and sweat pants. We were taken back to a room where she put on hospital clothes. The surgeon came in and drew guidelines on her body. I remember being terrified about the recovery and keeping her comfortable. While she stood there getting drawn on, I was reassured that she needed the surgery. She was so uncomfortable, We talked about all the things she was going to be able to do. Exercise easier, Dance Again, Find a swimsuit that fit. Then it was time to meet the anesthesiologist. Gosh he was young, his name was Caleb. I explained to him that he was going to have a challenge giving her an epidural. I told him she would faint. He said it was more difficult but he could have her lay on her side. Red Flag. I trusted him. Aren’t we supposed to trust the people wearing scrubs and white coats?

Scott and I waited in a private room. It was prime day, I ordered lots of stuff for Hayley’s new apartment or just fun things I thought she would like. Many of those items sit in the original boxes in her room. The surgery was taking too long. A nurse came out to tell us they got a late start but that it was going well and we had another 45 minutes. Oh Okay. A few minutes later a coordinator came in to talk to us. Hayley and I had bonded with her, she had worked hard to get our insurance approval for the surgery. She said they didn’t get started late because of our surgeon but that the delay was because they had struggles and issues with the epidural. I was steaming. I told him I knew my daughter, I told him to have another plan, but he just couldn’t fail or give up and go general. Was that a failure to him. His choice killed my child. I wasn’t able to be there with her, she was so brave.

So today I run through hour by hour where we were. Right now we were at Swedish Issaquah Emergency room with Hayley throwing up every few minute and with an excruciating headache. It must be a leak in her spinal column from the epidural. It should heal on her own. I insisted they admit her and control her pain. It was a battle. Henry was at home, Scott took the first night shift and I went home thinking a couple of days of healing and fluids in an iv and she will be on the mend. I explained to a 15 year old boy that she was staying at the hospital. He said she will be alright. He was wrong.

A wise man told me I have to walk through these dates. I can’t avoid them he said or they will come after me. Better to confront them head on, so that is what I am going to do. I will bring you along on the journey. Hopefully it will make you realize how much good you have in your life because it can always be worse. Don’t forget that.