The day I lost my best friend

 June 6th at 8:19 AM per the death certificate.

By the time I looked at my watch, it was 8:20 AM and 18 seconds.

No one was in the room except me, Kevin our friend and of course, Brandon.

This'll take a little while to finish. Started a while back, just tough to "finish". I'll probably edit it here and there. 

Backtracking a little...

I don't know the time when Brandon's comfort care was withdrawn. Everything was explained in advance, what would happen, etc., but honestly, it's such a blur now, I don't remember all the words and only partly remember the steps. Had to have been at least 7 AM. A lot of it, I don't want to remember if I'm being honest. It just hurts too much.

The nurse had left to get pain meds "just in case". I'd consented to that. Yes, please keep him from being in any possible pain or stress. She came back and had them ready and began turning off monitors and machines and started stopping the fluids flowing from their various bags into Brandon's arm. The alarm for low BP and low heart rate was already off; had been since the time I got there at 12 something earlier that morning. Couldn't believe it, it'd already been several hours. It'd all flown by in a rush. 

She removed the BiPap mask from his face and I noted with surprise and dismay the heavy mark on the bridge of his nose where it'd been sitting. She replaced it with an O2 cannula on a high flow to supplement his oxygen. Without the heavy sounds of the BiPap pushing air into him you could hear how ragged his own breath sounded. 

Death rattle. I'd always heard of that happening towards "the end" and now I was hearing it with my own ears coming from my husband. Kevin had moved over to the side of the bed I was sitting on and held Brandon's arm and put a hand on my arm, too. I hope Brandon knew he was surrounded by love and was not alone for this part. 

We sat with him and watched as his heart rate slowed down and blood pressure slowly dropped. It was agonizing and so full of the heaviest emotions one could ever possibly feel (for me anyway).

"The future disappears into memory/With only a moment between/Forever dwells in that moment/Hope is what remains to be seen".  (Rush, 2012, The Garden from Clockwork Angels)

Shortly following the withdraw of the comfort care, my best friend "left". He was free from pain, from agony, from fear, from horrible tests and his disease that so many others are plagued with. For that, I am grateful. Losing him however was the worst thing that I've ever experienced. It was like time stopped and sped up all at the same time. A strange twist of events. Suddenly faced with a new life (or lack thereof? how can one exist without their friend?) without. Brandon was gone. 

It made me catch my breath at the finality of it. It still does when I dare to look back and remember those moments.

We sat with him for two more hours...partly in silence, partly in quiet commentary on what had just transpired. I held his hand and felt it grow cold, felt him grow colder. He'd already felt chilled to me as time had gone on with us sitting there. 

Couple folks came into the room; one for emptying the sharps container, another I think to clean. Both made fast exits upon seeing the scene before them. Mumbles of apology. <queue hilarious laughter from me; 'boy, imagine their surprise seeing THIS when they came in'> I think Brandon would have gotten a belly laugh at that, honestly. Major 'uhhh' moment. 

Eventually, I didn't "feel" Brandon anymore and I said, 'hey...it's time to go,' to our friend. 

Together, stiffly, we packed up the few things that'd been moved down with him from his regular room and we left Room 5 from the MICU at Thomas Hospital where earlier in the day, my husband died. 

Forever, I'll miss you, babe...