I'd also been talking to him and noticed a couple times, once while playing Hold On, that he had tears falling from his eyes and a deep furrow in his brow. The other time I saw tears was when I arrived.
I wiped his tears with my fingers and eased the furrow up and told him to not be sad. I told him to remember the conversation we'd had just a couple weeks back before he was hospitalized. The one where I said when it's too much, you tell me and we'll stop everything and make sure you're comfy and surrounded by calm and peace, either at home or in the hospital. No more tests, no more procedures, just happy pills or drugs.
I wish we'd had time to get to that point; that he'd already had his catheter placement and we could have gone home to have the last weeks at home instead of just having a few hours in a hospital for his last day.
I talked about some of our camping trips reminiscing about one of the hikes we did through Sitton's Gulch in NW Georgia, while staying at Cloudland Canyon State Park. I was hoping to see a spark or something in his eye.
He'd turned his head once when one of his IV alarms sounded, moved his left arm above his head, moved his right leg from under the blankets, but still, no physical recognition of my being there. And, that was all early on right after I'd gotten there.
Kevin, our very dear friend got there a little after 2 I think and sat on the other side of the bed and held his left hand. I was holding his right. Around 4 AM one of the other nurses came in and asked if she could get anything for us. Coffee? asked Kevin. Shortly after, she brought in two fresh cups of coffee with creamer and sugar packets, having brewed a fresh pot of coffee for the two of us while we sat with Brandon.
Elaine would come and go from the room with more fluids and I kept wondering when. When? when. It was a desperate feeling and a scary one but it was ever present.
At some point, after our coffee cups were pretty empty and we both had coffee breath, I had to use the restroom.
I stood in the bathroom for a few extra moments and just stared at myself. What in the hell are you going to do, girl? my reflection asked me from the mirror. I had a headache coming on. No sleep, been up since 6 something the day before, Sunday the 5th. All I wanted to do was curl in a ball and forget for a while. I don't know what time it was.
I'd called both my folks and Brandon's Mom and sister already. Told them where I was, what was happening - what was about to happen. Probably both in preparation for me and for them for the next part. I really thought I'd cry and said to Kevin, this is going to be hard to do. But, I didn't.
I felt detached, like someone else was holding the phone and talking to my parents and Brandon's Mom and sister. I think I heard my Dad cry. Eloise did and I think Page did, too.
Eventually, we wandered out to find some food; the cafeteria was still closed at around 6:45 am. We figured they'd be opening soon. We could see the folks inside setting stuff up, tried to find the opening hours but even by 7 the doors didn't open. I wanted to go back upstairs, which we did sans food. Vending machines to the rescue. Dr. Pepper and Chili Cheese chips for me. I think Kevin got a Coke Zero and a Pop Tart.
We resumed our vigil on either side of Brandon.
Shift change came about and the new nurse came in and checked things, changed out fluids, added some stuff and there was some conversation about the next steps.
Remove the comfort care, remove the BiPap mask and if I'd wanted it, add some pain meds which she had to order "just in case" and stuff would begin to accelerate as it were.
Are you ever ready? is anyone?
The next hour was the toughest I've ever had in my life.
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