After getting the not so good news, I had calls to make. I asked the doctor if he could talk to Ambrose’s father, and he did. I appreciated not having to tell a father that his son had suffered a massive brain injury. I called my dad. I called my Aunt Sue. Each of those three is trying to get here as soon as they can, but Sue should arrive first.
My sister in law in Chicago called until I picked up, though by that point I’d already had so many calls I didn’t want to talk anymore.
The texts I’d been getting since I told my dad were appreciated because I could just respond with thank you. With a phone call, I had to answer questions, like “how are you?” and “what are you going to do?” and “do you need anything?”
I am in shock. I am going to wait and see what the doctor says to do next. And I need the time since I woke up on Thursday to Ambrose’s tortured breathing to be a fucking nightmare that I can wake up from in a cold sweat instead of the reality that I can’t quite bring myself to accept fully.
But how to articulate that in a phone call?
My mouth and brain don’t feel fully connected at the moment. I’m stuttering, fumbling for words. My friend reminds me that I’ve been through a traumatic event, and that has impacted my own brain. I don’t know how I’m going to be at work. When I have to get back to work. There were things to do this week, big things that I had scheduled. Some for Friday and some for this week, but now. Nothing is getting done by me at this point.
I also called a friend who lives close to the hospital who had offered me a place to crash. He agreed to come get me so I could have some time away from the hospital room. At his place, I showered, and then ate a hot meal. Then we watched a movie. Well, we tried to play some video games, but his Xbox would NOT cooperate. We gave it some time, but the thing wouldn’t let him sign in and it became a thing so we switched to watching a movie. But then the TV audio wouldn’t work on the Roku and that was another delay. It was kind of comical to me, though I know it frustrated him.
I asked for fruit and we went to a grocery store to get some. I got some ready to eat strawberries and blueberries, and some honey roasted peanuts. My eating has not been consistent. Food is not very appealing, but I know I need to keep eating and stay hydrated.
I suggested that Ambrose was on an extracorporeal excursion, messing with the electronics to let me know he was there. Frankly, there wasn’t a better explanation of why it had stopped working.
We watched Idiocracy, which I’ve never seen before. It was a decent distraction. My mind would still slip and slide, pulled by the gravity of Ambrose’s situation. But at the same time, there is nothing that I can do. I am completely helpless when it comes to Ambrose right now.
My mind rages, and my body curls in upon itself for a moment, with an ache of a breath squeaking out of my lungs. Then I’m calm again, thankful that we had that last trip together in the Frank. And the coast trip last year. What a high note.
After the movie, I went back to the hospital room. It’s not a bad place, but it is a strange place. Time doesn’t flow quite like it does outside. And that’s not just because all I can see of the sky out the window is that dang smoke. There’s a clock on the wall that counts by seconds, but it doesn’t seem to be running consistently unless I’m looking right at it.
I don’t want to put it out in the universe that he’s dying. That he’s kind of already dead. So much brain death. . . but that is the factual reality that I must face. And I do not have to face it alone, but I do have to face it. Me. I’m the one. I am the wife, and the decision is mine.
Time for some meditative movements.