The OFFICIAL Unofficial Achewood Message Board
Trivial Pursuits => People & Places => Topic started by: Golfhaus on June 20, 2007, 01:59:59 pm
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I don't know what it is about this place; I seem to come here to vent when things around me stop living (http://touamb.com/index.php/topic,1932.0.html).
I've talked here before about my move to Charlotte, and how a few weeks ago, my best friend and his wife were starting their own move here. Last Wednesday, I brought home dinner for the four of us and my wife's parents. After dinner, my friend and his wife decided to go furniture shopping. Once on 485, he had a severe asthma attack. He managed to get the car to the side of the road, but as he was getting out of the car, he turned blue and passed out, hitting his head on the asphalt pretty hard. His wife called us in a panic; we were able to get her to call 911 instead of us and I went out to find them and get her to the hospital.
The next couple of days were tense, but the following days started to lighten up a bit. His condition was slowly improving. His wife started talking about how he was going to have to start listening to her about taking care of himself. My wife went back to painting the walls of our new house while I was at work. Then yesterday about 4:30, I got the phone call. They think somewhere along the way, he developed a blood clot, and yesterday it reached his brain. He was airlifted to a different hospital with the intention of doing some brain surgery, but when he got there, he had "little to no" brain stem function left.
He's been on life support since; they're giving his family enough time to drive down to say goodbye. He goes off the life support sometime this morning. Sara and I went last night. It was the hardest thing I've had to do in a long, long time, seeing my friend, alive-but-not-really, for the last time. I've seen him asleep plenty - my living room couch was a second bedroom for him before he met his wife. It felt like I could just throw a pillow on his face and wake him up, like I'd done a dozen times before. The three of us would just sit there and talk for a minute, the room would go quiet, then one of us would start crying, and the other two would join in. Then we'd calm down, talk a little more, and the process would repeat itself.
His wife is 28. My wife is 29. I'm 30. He's 33. This is stupid; we're not supposed to be dying yet. I've given him crap about his sports teams since day one; how am I supposed to talk shit about the Steelers now? Moving to Charlotte was supposed to be their way of really starting their life together fresh, leaving their baggage behind in another city and hitting the reset button. I don't know if she even knows what city she'll be living in a month from now. There isn't much for her here now, there's nothing left for her in Virginia. She could go home to Massachusetts, but I'm not sure if that's what she wants. These aren't the kinds of decisions you should have to make with a day or two of warning.
They're also saying he may have had an allergic reaction to something, and that it may have triggered the initial asthma attack. He had eaten the dinner that I brought home right before heading out. I had been raving about this place to friends since I got to Charlotte (Price's Chicken Coop, inev, in case you're interested). In my head, I know that doesn't mean anything. In my gut, though, the coulda-shoulda-wouldas are there, and they're not going away.
This sucks.
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God dammit it is times like these that I have to remind myself that you are all imaginary, or this would just be too fuck*ng sad to bear. I am so sorry.
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I'm so very sorry for you, your friend and his wife. That's terrible.
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Oh god. I am so sorry to hear that. I can't imagine how horrible this must be for you, your family, and his family.
When I first clicked the title I feared the worst, and I hoped, "Please let G be posting about some trivial shit, and please tell me that his best friend isn't really dying."
It drives the point home that every patient is a human being with family and loved ones. I just wish that god wasn't going to take him yet. You guys are way too young to have this happen.
I would like to point out that even if he did have an allergic reaction, it was not your fault...even people who have an Epi-Pen for allergies can't always get to the hospital in time, and he didn't even have epinephrine close at hand. Plus he had a closed head injury and oxygen deprivation from the asthma attack. God. That is so unfair. I know how people blame themselves...but please don't blame yourself. I'll be praying for you guys.
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that's... horrendous.
All I can think about is that right now, (or in the next few days? I'm not sure?) my best friend, who is in the Air Force, is doing Jump training. I think I might call him. I haven't talked to him in a while.
fuck, golfhaus, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say.
Some part of me wants to say something weird about how Charlotte isn't normally like this, or... that I kind of live near 485... or... fuck. I don't know. Now I'm thinking about the traffic I got stuck in on 485 2 days ago, and I couldn't figure out what was going on...
I don't know. I'm sorry.
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Know the feeling... on the way home from work last night, I was grumpy about the traffic, then saw a fire truck and ambulance go by, and realized that a week prior, the traffic was because of Jeff.
We've been friends through some tough shit - we met at work, so a lot of our time spent together was spent dealing with the fun of airline delays, cancelled flights, pissed off passengers, and that sort of thing. I take some solace in the fact that that wasn't how we spent our last afternoon together. It was spent with our wives, and my wife's parents, chowing down on food and looking ahead to the future. Even if it's not working out that way, at least the moment was there.
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I'm sorry buddy, that shit sucks. I lost a best friend about five years ago to cancer. Remember the good times.
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I'm so sorry, man.
I'm not good at being verbose on these things but... I'm so sorry.
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I'm so sorry, man. I wish I could say I understand what you're going through, but I don't; I really can't imagine what it feels like, but you have my sympathy anyway.
That said, I do understand that "we're not supposed to die yet" feeling. Last summer, two months after I graduated from college, one of my former classmates died of a sudden, massive heart attack while playing soccer at a family reunion. He was 22 and had been on the cross country team all four years of college; he had no history of heart conditions, and from all appearances he went straight from being a fit, healthy kid to being dead. I didn't really grieve -- I didn't know him beyond that "friend of a friend"-type connection you have with almost everyone at a small college -- but it did shock me on that visceral level. For the love of God, we'd just gotten out of college; nobody was supposed to die yet.
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As an update... Jeff did survive the morning, technically if not for-real-for-real. They pulled the plug on his ventilator this afternoon. Even at the end, he provided a surprise for everyone, when they evaluated his organs for donation and determined that his liver (along with a kidney and his pancreas) could help someone else. Jeff was known to polish off a case of beer in a long evening on more than one occasion. I'm not so sure I'd be ready to take that liver. If it's true that whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, though, then that's gonna be one damn strong liver.
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It's good to hear that he was an organ donor. I know that kind of thing is cold comfort, but hopefully some good for someone in need will come from it.
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It's hard. I know you're not looking for advice, but having been there recently I'll share what I've learned.
For a while it'll seem like it just gets harder -- and it kind of will. And it won't feel like anything anyone has to say will help.
For a longer while it'll catch you unawares at random points in the day. It really does suck.
I don't entirely know why I'm saying this other than I've been in this place, where you're not even done with the shock yet. Talk to people as much as you can. Let everything out as often as you can. It's hard, but it will get easier to deal with.
For myself, it's been almost seven months since I got a call at work that basically said "The person you'd hoped to spend the rest of your life with is dead," and I still have bad days... but where I am and where I was are light years apart. I know it doesn't feel like it yet, but things will get better.
Your life was made better by his presence in it, and it's still better for having known him. Focus on that if you can. That's what helped me.
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That's awful. I'm so sorry.
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It's hard. I know you're not looking for advice, but having been there recently I'll share what I've learned.
For a while it'll seem like it just gets harder -- and it kind of will. And it won't feel like anything anyone has to say will help.
For a longer while it'll catch you unawares at random points in the day. It really does suck.
I don't entirely know why I'm saying this other than I've been in this place, where you're not even done with the shock yet. Talk to people as much as you can. Let everything out as often as you can. It's hard, but it will get easier to deal with.
For myself, it's been almost seven months since I got a call at work that basically said "The person you'd hoped to spend the rest of your life with is dead," and I still have bad days... but where I am and where I was are light years apart. I know it doesn't feel like it yet, but things will get better.
Your life was made better by his presence in it, and it's still better for having known him. Focus on that if you can. That's what helped me.
Jesus, L! I can't believe you've kept that all bottled in. I mean, I cried a huge, pathetic e-river all over TOUAMB when my crap dude ex fiance dumped me, for pete's sake...I am so sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine going through something like that.
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Sorry for your loss.
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Damn G. Just Damn. It's never a good time to lose a friend.
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I wish you deep healing G.
For me the best/worst part of my losses have always been the moments where everything is so normal. Standing there, on the street and the world is going on, and just wanting to yell "Stop. Just stop. Don't you see?" These moments have always been the markers of those times for me. I don't know why. Birds flying on a perfect day, except I was standing in a grave yard. Someone cracking a joke and just laughing, laughing so hard - too hard. Watching the sun go down.
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I'm touched by your words about your friend and also the responses on the board. You all are really interesting, caring people and I hate hate hate that I never get a chance to hang out on this board anymore, and I hate even more that today, when I found you all again for probably a moment only, it's around a sad circumstance. I'll probably not be back for a month.... :-(
That said, I'd just like to mention that times and situations like this one and others mentioned, underscore for me the importance of prayer. If you believe, even a little bit, or even if you want to - take a moment to frame up your feelings, your anger, your pain, your guilt - and offer it back. It's therapeutic to be sure but of course my faith understanding tells me that prayers are in some way answered.
You may not feel that same way, but I find it's a good way to reflect on what I'm feeling and helps me to process the feelings in a way that makes it easier to go on.
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I wish you deep healing G.
For me the best/worst part of my losses have always been the moments where everything is so normal. Standing there, on the street and the world is going on, and just wanting to yell "Stop. Just stop. Don't you see?" These moments have always been the markers of those times for me. I don't know why. Birds flying on a perfect day, except I was standing in a grave yard. Someone cracking a joke and just laughing, laughing so hard - too hard. Watching the sun go down.
Yes.
Last night, at dinner, I was laughing at something and realized that I had laughed just like my grandfather used to -- "hoo hoo hoo." My grandfather has been dead four years this month, and it still hit a chord.
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I've never really lost anyone I was that close to while I was old enough to appreciate it but my mother has always said the same thing about her father dying, she was getting petrol later that day and couldn't understand how everyone was just going about their day.
I guess the world moves on with or without us, that's comforting and depressing at the same time.
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The amount of loss I've experienced is significantly more than the peers I hang with. I used to be angry about this, but now I have a strong sense of having turned a corner and am coming to terms with a sense of gratitude that I've made it through all that, and become a better human for it.
I have a beautiful story to tell about a friend I lost a month ago, but I'm not ready to go there until after my writing deadline of July 1st. It's actually a really beautiful thing, but I'm also fully aware that I've put aside the mourning of this friend due to how busy my life is right now. I've told myself I'll got there, but only when I really have time to process it.
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I'm a little late to the thread, but I'm very sorry for your loss.
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saddest thing.
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I was offline for a couple of days, but I am terribly sorry for your loss, G.
That's all, I suppose, one can say. All the "I've been theres" and "it gets betters" in the world won't help you right now.
I do hope, however, that when the pain starts to fade, you remember the kind words of those who wrote and that they do help, somehow, sometime in the future.