It’s been a while since I have written – particularly about
Scott, and our journey through love and loss.
My last post about this was, I believe, “The Waiting Place”. I hadn’t
posted in the few months after because I was preparing for an amazing follow-up
story. And in many ways, it is amazing!
In the months of April and May 2015, Scott fell into a coma
while suffering from a blood clot to the lungs, Pneumonia, and Valley Fever,
all the result of the astronomical
amounts of various crippling antibiotics he was taking for a foot infection that started six months before. The medication basically killed his immune systems ability to fight
anything off. In April, here in
Mobile, we had nearly two weeks of constant pouring rain, very dark skies and
severe thunderstorms. We were
about 5 days into this when I arrived to work at 8 a.m. on a Monday morning. Scott had been in the hospital for a week or two but
we had been talking every day. For some
reason, I woke up feeling extremely apprehensive that morning. The dark, stormy ride to work on what should
have bright sunny morning just seemed to indicate that I was on the precipice of
something unpleasant.
Less than an hour after arriving to work, I received a
call from Scotts mom telling me he took a turn for the worse, lapsed
into a coma and may not make it through the day. I went into a conference room for privacy and made plane reservations in the midst of crying
hysterically. I left work to go home to pack. Having a few hours before
time to leave, I took a short nap as I knew the trip ahead would be long and waiting period to leave home would be agony.
I wanted to sleep it off. I also
had to make fast arrangements for someone to come and stay with Shanon, which
my niece, Jennifer, did.
My flight left around 2 p.m. and I arrived in Phoenix at
around midnight our time and 10 p.m. Arizona time. Scott was conscious again and
we had hope. He was thrilled I was
there and wouldn’t let go of my hand. He
kept touching my face as he often did and telling me he loved me. The family suspected that the sleep medicine given the night before may have caused the crisis of the previous evening. I opted to stay in the hospital for most of
the night with him though I was exhausted.
I had asked the nurse to please not give him that medicine again. But after a couple of hours, she felt it
would help him rest better and insisted it was not what caused the downturn 24 hours before. So I begged for only a half of the dosage and
they agreed. They gave him the medicine
at 3:30 a.m. – which was actually 5:30 a.m. Mobile time – my time. He seemed to have calmed down so I left and
drove the 30 minutes to his sisters’ house to sleep.
I showered and went to bed at 4:45 a.m. Forty five minutes later, Sheli (Scott’s
sister) came in and told me he had gone into cardiac arrest and they were keeping him alive until we arrived. We
got back to the hospital at 6:30 a.m. expecting that he would pass that day,
but he didn’t. Yet he remained in a
critical state with one crisis after another for the next week. Doctor after doctor begged us to turn off
support saying his death was imminent. I
stayed again that night until what I deemed ‘the witching hour’, (that time in the middle of the night that patients typically die or take a
downturn) which is 2:30 - 3:30 a.m. I left and
once again, crawled into bed at 4:30. I
was up by 10:30 and back to the hospital at noon. Looking at his hands and feet, I noticed they
were turning grey. Since this is one of
the things that happens just before death, I frantically motioned for the nurse
while trying not to panic his daughter.
The nurse explained that this was the side effect of the
blood pressure medicine that cuts off circulation to the arms and legs to push
blood flow to the heart. Upon further
questioning her, she confirmed my fears that this would lead to multiple
amputations. I begged her to get the
doctors in there and find an alternative.
After all, Scott was a master builder!
He did the flooring in both the Campbell (Campbell soup family) and
Wrigley (Wrigley gum) family mansions, among other big jobs. I explained that he needed his hands to earn
a living. They seemed unmoved and were
resigned that amputations were the norm and would ultimately happen if he were
to survive, which they didn’t think he would anyway.
Then I pulled out my phone and showed them pics from of us on Valentines day, two months before. They were
shocked to see that this was the same person and were finally showing compassion.
They were now seeing Scott as a
person. A while later, the nurse
came in and sat next to me and asked how we met. I told her our story through a downpour of
tears and by the time I finished, she was bawling and hugging me. She promised she would take care of him. I begged her to, at the very least, take that
medicine to the lowest dosage possible to keep him alive so that his
extremities would not be damaged.
I took a late afternoon break and slept, then came back four
hours later to find Scott wearing gloves and socks with warmers. His feet
and hands were as pink as mine. On top of that, they did exactly as I requested, reducing the BP med dosages to the
lowest possible.
The infectious control
doctor who had put Scott on the many strong and crippling antibiotics six months prior (and
kept him on them) came to talk to me about
convincing Scott's mom to turn off the life support. Again, she told me he was trying to tell us he
wanted to die and that we weren't listening to him.
I knew he didn’t. I told her that this was a decision between Scott and God – they would have a talk on ‘the other side’. Then I made a deal with her. “
Start taking him off all of this medicine, one-by-one, and let him tell us.” She agreed and, with Scotts mom’s permission, they began reducing the medicines. On top of life support, he was on Nitric Oxide and all the staff said they had never seen anyone come off that alive. They agreed to decrease all meds, convinced he would die in the process.
I had the world of Facebook praying daily – many of whom
were both our former classmates. And
each day after they began reducing the medication, Scott got a little
better. I was there for eleven days but
when I left, I felt confident he would pull through this. It was two weeks later when I got the call
telling me Scott was awake. Five days after that, they took the trach out
and he was able to talk to me on the phone for short intervals. By the end of May, they moved him to a
transitional rehab unit where he would stay until June 22. I had since resigned from my job and
continued working a part time contract job that I had been working on the side. I was able to work somewhat remotely and the
company agreed to allow me work from Arizona for three weeks so the plan was
for me to leave on June 23 and return July 15.
During the next three weeks, the sun shined brightly in
Mobile and there was a sense of newness.
Life was springing up all around me.
The sound of the cicadas, the birds singing and wind blowing were more pleasant
than I remembered. The color of the sky
and the flowers were so vibrant and the white sand on the beaches seemed so majestic. The scent of sweet olives and ginger (or
whatever blossoms in June) were so much sweeter than ever before. There was hope in the air and I was looking
forward to the future.
Our messages were full of enchanting pictures that
reflected both our hearts and dreams for our lives together. Scott started it and I was surprised to find
out that he loved silhouettes as much as I do.
They are a blank slate that any of us can step into, often telling a
story that we, ourselves write, in which we become the main
characters. There was so much we wanted
to do together; travel the world, live in both Mobile and Phoenix, take ball
room dancing, explore magical caves, trails, and mysterious places. 
To his family’s
surprise and shock, we pulled up to their Fourth of July barbecue with Scott
behind the wheel. They were elated
at his progress and more so, the fact that he was even alive! After lunch, Scott and I were sitting on the
back patio when he proposed. Without hesitation,
I said ‘yes’. His mom came out and we told her and she
excitedly announced it to the family.
All of us were elated, though I could not help but to feel that we had
cheated death and in the back of my mind, I was afraid this would be ripped out
from under me. 
That night on
our way home, the moon was so huge and bright over the mountain that it resembled
the moon in many of our silhouette pictures.
We pulled over, as Scott often did when he saw something beautiful, to take
pictures and sat for nearly an hour mesmerized by its beauty! 
. 
The following week I had to return
home. Scott would be coming to see me in
September, when he was strong enough to travel.
We were excited and continued to text, email, and Facebook pictures of
our shared dreams and we spent long hours on the phone planning our
future. Scott had wanted to get married that
fall. I wanted to wait a year to get the
girls through their senior years and not uproot either of them, but we planned a 'secret' wedding for Valentines day 2016 in Sedona. In retrospect, I realize that while I was being practical, Scott had a
keen sense of urgency because he had already met God once and was
allowed to come back. He knew, more than
anyone, that our days are numbered and just because we think we have time, it does not mean that we do.
