The conclusion of 4/28 through 5/2/2006

The Conclusion to 4/28/2006 through 5/2/2006

I am not really certain why I felt compelled to write about Bruce’s death.  Maybe it was because it has been 10 years.  Maybe it was because my kids are at such different places and I wanted them to have a history to show their kids.  Possibly because I am not good at being vulnerable and writing was my way of being a little vulnerable. Truthfully, I can’t say.

There have been many messages sent to me with offers of prayers and well wishes.  All are appreciated.  I need to fast forward to now.  Many of you may like to hear that we have put Bruce’s death into perspective.

When someone dies it seems that the negatives are minimized and the good times are magnified.  That is just the way it is.  We all think of Bruce.  We laugh at some of his escapades.

I see Bruce in my sons.  I see his sister in my daughter.  My second son is a clone of him.  He has mastered his walk, speech and mannerisms. It will sometimes catch me off guard.  My oldest son has a lot of Bruce in him.  He is somewhat of a dreamer, as was Bruce.  I am so happy that Bruce got to the kids grow up. 

The things that Bruce’s early death made him miss?  First and foremost, grandchildren.  I do believe that he would have excelled in being a “pap-pap”, as Lily calls him.  I am sure that he would have had the grandchildren fishing and skiing.  There is no doubt that he would have embraced Jack’s name.  Jack is to date the only grandson.  Bruce is his middle name.  I’m also certain that he would have loved the sweetness of Lily and Maisie, and the spunkiness of Caroline. 

When Meg was married, Chris gave a toast.  One part of it was recognizing that his dad would have loved Jonathan.  He surely would have.  The only sadness of that day was seeing Meg walked down the aisle (which was called the great lawn) with her brothers and not her dad.  He would love Angela, although she might have to learned how to take Bruce.  Chris’ sidekick, Katie would have won Bruce’s heart too.  All in all, he would have been pleased with the family he created the kids and the grandchildren. 

Me?  I got very fortunate.  I have a good guy, Tim.  He is my best buddy.  We enjoy together our kids and grandkids.  He is their Timpa.  Lily will say that his job is to keep her safe and make sure that she is happy.  I tell Lily that we are her parent’s B team.  We are both right.

Tim is the polar opposite of Bruce.  He is patient.  Bruce was not.  He is not a selfish man, Bruce was.  He is not stubborn, Bruce was.  I am happy, very happy that we are walking through life together.  My life is much easier now.

Bruce’s relatives have embraced Tim.  They let him know every time we see them that he is part of their family.  It is so good to know that they support Tim and me.  My family?  I will just say that Bruce’s family has gone out of their way to make him comfortable. 

The years are marching by and memories of Bruce G. Parke will live on.  Sometimes I realize the magnitude of my life with Bruce and the reality of those five days in 2006 that changed things so much. 

Bruce's mom?  She is still alive, but the pain of her losing Bruce has never lessened. 

I am hopeful that this blog reaches people and helps them realize that we can all get through so much more than we think.  If one person can find strength in these words.  I consider it a success. After you go through such a tragedy, you will find the strength to breathe again.

The End....Theda K. Parke 

I hope that if nothing else, this story can be helpful to at least one person who finds themselves in a similar situation.  After you go through the movements, there is a time that you will breathe.

May 2, 2006. Part 5

I knew that I wanted to stay at the hospital overnight.   The nurses buzzed around.  They were constantly watching Bruce’s monitors.  They bathed him and massaged lotion on him. They made sure his hair was washed and combed.  The nurses shaved him.  They chatted to me trying to figure out the family since there always seemed to be a steady flow of people coming to see him/us.

Please let me first say that I am sort of unclear about the time line of this morning.  I’m not sure that the kids were with me when we discussed the schedule or if it was Ron and me.  Nonetheless, there was a timeline created.  Bruce would be taken off of life support.  Tuesday, May 2, 2006.  All of the tubes and apparatus were going to be removed around noon. 

Looking back, I can’t remember if I was relieved for Bruce or sadder for us.  I suspect I was too numb to process this day.  People who know me, know that I hold and hide emotions pretty well.  Trust me, if you put my kids into this equation, I definitely do.  That day, above everything else I needed to be a mom first.

The only young death in my family was an uncle who was killed in Vietnam.  I was 6.  I have distinct memories of that time.   Having said that, there were huge differences.  My kids were all adults.  There were no good bye’s for my uncle but we had a few days to process everything.

Bruce’s mom and other children, minus his sister, were coming in. All in all, the people who were there that day were all people who should have been there.  The constant flow of people stopped.  From my side of the family, I only recall 2 of my nieces.  There might have been more.  I remember them in particular because they asked the day before if I wanted them to be there.  I did.  These gals were close to Bruce and my kids.  I knew that they wanted to be a support system. 

At 12:00 noon, the doctor walked into the room.  The family, with the exception of me left.  Tubes were removed.  In a matter of minutes, Bruce looked as though he was peacefully sleeping.  He was breathing on his own.  At 12:15 he was situated and the clock was started.

Bruce’s mom made it perfectly clear that she wanted to say good bye to Bruce.  After that she was going to leave.  She was not going to watch her son die.  I could not imagine the pain she was feeling.  Her “best looking” son was dying.  Her last baby was dying.  I wanted him to look comfortable for her, so I was at the side of him and had my arm under his neck, which prevented his head from going back.  She came in and hugged him, held his hand for a couple of minutes and kissed him goodbye.  She left to go home and sit by her phone.

The kids came in, two of his brother’s came in.  The third took his mom home.  Some of our nieces and nephews came in.  It was a day of pure sadness and complete unknown.

Hours passed.  I think there was an unconscious need for people to nervously come in and out of the room.  His nurse for the day came in about every 15 minutes to see if we needed anything.  Her name was Kelly Smith.  She was young.  I remember at one point I asked her how hard this assignment for her day was.  Her answer was, “It is my privilege to be part of something so huge that changes the dynamics of a family.”  She also said that the staff as a whole had talked about the number of relatives and friends who were obviously all an important part of Bruce’s life. 

As I have said, we both came from bigger families and I think that when that is the case, we kind of lose sight of the reality that many families would only have 2 or 3 people with them for support.

Hour by hour, I stood on Bruce’s right side with my arm under his head.  I remember the twitching that started in his thumb had progressed to his face.  At some point he started to snore.  That was extremely unsettling to all of us.

I’m not sure how many people have been in this situation watching someone die.  But Bruce still had a monitor attached for heartrate, pulse, and respiration.  I know that I quickly became obsessed with looking on them to see if he was inching toward death.  When he would snore though, his respiration would raise to normal numbers.

At some point, my second son came in and said that he had said his goodbyes and was going to just stay in the waiting room.  Greg is an emotional guy, so this made perfect sense.  I was a firm believer in allowing everyone involved to do what they needed to do. 

Kelly, the nurse, would chat with us.  She said that when her grandmother was dying, she was in nursing school and wanted to be there.  She left for a quick minute to microwave popcorn.  Her grandmother died in that quick moment.  She referred to it as the “popcorn effect”. 

We were into this process for about 5 hours and Bruce was maintaining life without assistance.  I was getting stressed.  I think that all involved knew the expected outcome of the day.  The thought of extending the inevitable was scary. 

The nurse kept changing his positioning, mainly to stop the snoring. 

At 6:15, I looked at 2 of Bruce’s brother’s, his sister in law, and I think one of his nieces were around the bed.  I hadn’t left his side.  He was getting a temperature.  When I took my arm out from around his neck, my entire sleeve was wet.  I told everyone that I wanted to go to the waiting room and see what the kids were doing.  I wanted to make sure that they were ok.  As ok as they could be. 

I walked out of the room and out of the CCU.  The waiting room was just a few steps away from the unit.  I walked into the waiting room as the phone rang.  It was nurse Kelli asking for me.  Bruce had died. 

Bruce was a stubborn guy.  I am somewhat stubborn.  This was the final proof that he was more stubborn than me.

Seeing someone go from very alive to death in a matter of 5 days is unbelievably hard.  Watching your kids lose their dad is a painful thing for a mom to watch.  From start to finish it is an exhausting, painful process. 

There was a memorial service for Bruce on Saturday.  Bruce’s sister was there despite her recent surgery.  There were more than 200 people there.  Most shocking was the number of my kids friends who flew in to attend.  These kids put forth a lot of effort and money to support their Parke friends. 

Before I conclude this 5- day blog, I need to tell you two more things.

When we all filed out of the hospital after Bruce’s death, we all went across town to another hospital to spend time with Bruce’s sister who had been sick.  She was going to have surgery early Wednesday morning.  We all filed into her hospital room and stayed for hours.  That hospital was so nice to her.  They knew that her brother was taken off life support that day.  They made sure she didn’t have a roommate.  When we all got there, they brought in chairs and drinks.  They really did go above and beyond for her and the family.

The last thing that I wanted to say was that my mom was home and wide awake when we got there.  She wanted to simply know that her daughter and three of her grandkids were as ok as we could be.  Proof of once a mom is always a mom regardless of our age.

5/1/2006 Part 4

I woke up again around 3:30 and got dressed and went to the lobby of the hotel.  I called Sandy again.  I was overwhelmed with the reality of what was happening.  I didn’t know what I was going to do with someone’s ashes.  I knew the idea of bringing them home was not going to happen.

When I got to the hospital and took my mother-in-law’s seat I realized that the clock was ticking.  Not only was his thumb still quivering, but his arm and shoulder was as well.  The nurse essentially said that his nerves and muscles were shorting out.

Everyone started gathering and taking their places.  Relatives and friends stopping in.  At one point somehow, and I don’t remember specifically how we learned that Bruce’s mom was hoping for a better outcome.  However, it was, Ron, Chris and I had another meeting with the doctors and they agreed to run another series of tests.   The tests were run.  The results were the same.  The reality was Bruce was brain dead and being kept alive by machines.

As I said, Bruce’s sister was sick.  She was now in another hospital in Pittsburgh.  We had hoped that she would have been well enough to come one last time.  That wasn’t possible.

I knew that a lot of people were calling and asking to stop by.  I certainly was not going to forbid anyone from coming. If they felt they needed to see him again, they should come.

Many of them did.  Friends stopped by. A few more relatives stopped by.  I remember thinking that this was a viewing, only the person was still alive, technically at least.We found time in the day to laugh about many of the antics Bruce provided through his life.  We talked about him and his list of sports.  The thing about Bruce and sports was that if he did it, he did it well.  Also, if he told a joke or a story, they were told well.  We shared lots of stories about the life of Bruce.We all knew the reality of taking him off life support was looming over our heads.  Sometime in the afternoon it was decided that the next day we were taking him off of life support.  This terrified me.  The doctors said that at this point his heart was strong.  In theory his organs were shutting down, but what happened if after they took him off life support, he lived?What would happen?  What would his quality of life be? Would he be put into a nursing home?  How long would he be able to survive?  No matter how I dissected the options, none of them were good.

That afternoon everyone was on edge, trying to emotionally absorb what we were desperately trying not to.  Ron and many of the young people went to a restaurant out of the hospital, but close by.  They ate and had a few drinks. At some point a group of doctors, along with their support squad came to discuss the schedule.  It was decided that the following day would be the day.

When I think back on how much of a routine this seemed to be, it’s staggering.  It surely takes a special group of people to help families work through such life and death situations.

These nurses and doctors shared such great compassion and care with each of us.  Clearly, Bruce was the patient, but the nurses made sure we were all being taken care of.

I knew that I was at the hospital for the duration.  The kids could go to the hotel and sleep.  My post was at the hospital.  I knew that I wasn’t going to sleep so I might as well sit there and put things into perspective. As people trickled out, a few of my nieces asked if I wanted or needed them to be there the following day.  I absolutely did. Ron and Greg had a bit too much fun when they went to eat so Ron was staying with me at the hospital.  It was going to be a horribly long night and an even longer, more difficult day to follow….  

Day 3.. April 30, 2006

April 30^th, 2006

Part 3

I woke up at around 3AM and began to stress about the reality we were all living in.  I remember getting dressed and going to the lobby of the hotel and calling a friend of mine.  I was a young person.  I never thought that I would be in this situation.

I knew in a few hours; Chris would be home.  My family would all be in the same time zone.  We would all be together.  I loved to see Chris always.  I was stressed today though. 

Most people who know me, know that I have a decent sense of direction.  That is unless I am in a hospital.  I continually get lost.  I learn one way to get to the place I need to be, and I will not stray from that path.  If I do, I end up in random places.   One time in Shadyside hospital when my mom was there I ended up in the surgical elevator.  The doors opened and everyone was in scrubs looking at me.  In this hospital, I knew one way to get to where I needed to go and I knew how to get to the cafeteria.

I walked to the hospital from the hotel and took my mother in law’s post to the right of Bruce.  I looked at him.  I was looking at a very strong man looking frail and motionless.  I noticed that his right thumb was twitching.  I noticed it the day prior, but now it was a constant, vigorous movement.  An uncontrolled reflex that couldn’t be stopped.  It was unsettling to me.

The exact time that Chris was picked up and got to the hospital, I don’t recall other than it was early.  Donivan, his cousin picked him up.  I’m sure that Donivan talked about the reality of how Bruce was.  I’m sure that Chris tried to prepare himself.  There is no preparation though.  The reality was harsh.  Chris was going to be smacked in the face with it.

I wrote a blog once and mentioned briefly this hospital trip.  In the blog I wrote about specific minutes that are forever etched in my mind with my kids.  This was the moment with Chris.  I will never, never forget looking into the all glass room when Chris walked in.  It was a devastation.  It was me witnessing a heart breaking.  Terribly sad.

This was Sunday.  When Ron, Chris and I met with the team of doctors, they were clear that we needed to start developing a plan.  We needed to prepare ourselves for the inevitable future.  They said that Bruce would be going through testing later in the morning.  The testing was going to give us the reality of Bruce’s brain activity.    When we returned to the waiting room, Chris was the guy who spoke up and announced to everyone what the conversation was.  

You see he was admitted with a 99% blockage which resulted in a heart attack.  By the time he was resuscitated and stabilized minutes went by.  Factually there were enough minutes to cause brain damage.  The only question was to what extent.  How many minutes? 

There were only a few times I remember see Bruce’s mom out of the CCU room.  This was one of them.  In no time at all, the doctors came in and said that Bruce lacked brain activity.  We sat and talked about the options.  Option 1. Take him off of life support.  Option 2.  Put him in a nursing facility and keep him alive via life support. Neither of them optimistic for a future.

I remember looking at Bruce’s mom and thinking that this had to be killing her.  At one of her “chat sessions” with Bruce, she told him that he was the “most handsome” of her sons.  Ron, another of her sons, was in the room and thanked her for saying that in front of him.  I don’t think she apologized. 

After the meeting with the doctors.  Chris, again spoke up and said that his dad would never want on life support.  He also said that his dad wanted to be cremated.  Bruce would have never wanted people looking at him in a casket.  He was very right in both cases.

The day dragged.  How could it not?  People came in and out.  Chris’ friend Paige stopped by and brought Chris some things that he needed.  People brought drinks in.  We took turns going to the cafeteria, and eating.  It almost started to feel normal on some level.   

I want to add though that Bruce’s sister was having some serious health issues.  She in fact was going to be admitted to another Pittsburgh hospital the next day.  At some point of this day, she stopped as she was going into Bruce’s room and told me that this moment took her back in time to one of the times her own dad was in the hospital.  She was referring to looking at Megan standing beside Bruce’s bed.

I mentioned that Bruce and I both have bigger families.  There were many nieces and nephews.  At any point there were a dozen or two people with us.  That opened the way for many stories about Bruce.  He was the rowdy, baby of the family.  There were many stories that we had never heard about Bruce.  At one point my brother-in- law said that Bruce Parke was a guy who you could love one second and the next second, you wanted to kill him.  He was right.

As the evening went on I found my kids, a couple of Bruce’s nieces and nephews and a couple of bottles of wine in the waiting room. We sipped on the wine. We talked. This was one of the few times that we shared the waiting room with anyone.  As it turned out, it was a family of someone who worked with Bruce for years.  They recognized some of the stories and shared some of their own.  Everyone always still can come up with “Bruce-lore”.  I’m sure through the years the stories have gotten exaggerated a bit. 

We left the hospital after midnight to go back to our room at the hotel down the street. 

I should mention that this weekend was also the weekend of the University of Pittsburgh’s graduation.  The city was hopping.

April 28 to April 29, 2006

Bruce was airlifted to Pittsburgh and had surgery to correct a 99% blockage in his carotid artery.  He was stabilized and moved to a room in the CCU.  He was settled into his room by the morning of 4/28.

Soon, Bruce’s mother and sister and nieces and nephews started coming in.  Every one of them was quickly slapped in the face with the new reality.  His brothers had to travel to get home.  Bruce was comfortably asleep in the CCU.  Bruce was on life support.  He had a breathing tube.  Every sort of monitor was attached to him.

If anyone reading this has never has seen someone in this situation, only one word can describe it.  SAD.  It is simply sad.  I was sad for Bruce.  I was sad for me.  I was sad for Bruce.  I was sad for his mom.  I was sad for his siblings.  Mostly though, I was sad for our kids.  It was all around unbelievably sad.

There was nothing to do except to sit and wait and look and hope.  I will say that both Bruce and I have multiple siblings and I think somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 nieces and nephews, along with, at that point, a half of dozen great nieces and nephews.  This was now Saturday.  As many of our friends heard, they too were trickling in.

At some point, I remember looking around the community waiting room and realizing that the room was overflowing with people who cared about our family.  The other families of patients in similar situations were in an extension of the waiting room.
The plan?  Unknown.  My biggest heartache?  Still waiting to get Chris there.  He was, at this point, taking flights from LA to Pittsburgh.  He was to arrive early Sunday morning.  His cousin Donivan was picking him up at the airport.  Chris was, as far as I recall, unaware of the absolute situation.

I need to interject that my 3 kids were 26,24, and 21.  They have always had an unbelievable support group.  They were fortunate in their lives not only to have numerous cousins that they grew up with, but also an extended family.  By now friends were scattered around the country.

Because we were in the hospital and Chris was on an airplane as the news of Bruce was spreading, the access to us was difficult at times.   One of their friends said that if I would update him, he would manage the many concerned friends to keep everyone posted.

Bruce was in the CCU.  It was hard to see Greg and Meg’s heart being slowly broken.  It was even more difficult to see his mom’s heart being crushed.  She sat to the right side of him.  She talked to him.  She sang to him.  She tried to play peek-a-boo with him.
She had lost her first husband from cancer several years earlier.  She had lost her 3rd oldest grandson in the 80’s to a drunk driver.  Unfortunately, she knew the pain.  Unfortunately, we were all feeling the pain.  Sadly, nothing could change the reality of the situation that was unfolding.

Obviously, the doctors and nurses were doing anything they could for Bruce and quite honestly for us.

By Saturday afternoon,  which was 4/29th, Bruce’s 3 brothers were home.  Two of them lived out of the state.

Here’s something that I struggled with.  Bruce and I were separated.  I was legally responsible for him.  I, first of all, knew that I was not really responsible for decisions.  The family as a whole was.  Whenever a doctor was in or requested a meeting I always had one of his brother’s with me and one of our kids with me.

There mostly was nothing more to do than sit and wait. We would go to the cafeteria and grab a bite to eat.  Bruce’s mom just sat in her seat looking at her baby. The kids and I weren’t leaving other than to get a shower and a couple of hours of sleep at a hotel down the street from the hotel.

The Parke family are somewhat a comical group of people.  Because this was the week of the professional football draft, occasionally someone would turn on the television in the room.  At some point, Bruce’s mom would see that the television was turned on and ask why.  Ron, Bruce’s brother would look at his mom and tell her that Bruce wanted to see it.  There would be a quick chuckle, then back to the vigilant watch for some indication of life.

That pretty much sums up April 28th and 29th, 2006.

Life can change in a second.

 

Life can change in a second.  Life does change in a second.  There is really nothing anyone can do about it.  Regardless of how much you like where you are or dislike where you are, life cannot stand still. 

April 28, 2006 

Many of you who know me realized how fast my life, as I knew it changed on April 28, 2006.  I was 45. 

I was married, but separated.  Although, my husband, Bruce and I seemed to get along much better than we had when we lived together.  We talked every day.  We saw each other most days.  Finally, we weren’t stressing each other out.  I say that it was because we stopped expecting things of one another. 

On Thursday, the 27^th, Bruce needed to be in Latrobe (our hometown).  My son had an appointment and Bruce needed to go with him.  The appointment happened.  After that Bruce went to golf with a friend.  Then they went and ate.  Hot sausage, stuffed banana peppers in marinara, and wings was the menu.  After a late lunch Bruce came to the house.  He said that he needed to be in Virginia on Friday morning, but he was tired and planned on napping, getting up around midnight to go to VA. 

He was upstairs napping and I went up.  He asked if there was anything in the house for heartburn.  I remember asking him if I could take him to the ER because he looked horrible.  He simply said that he was tired from working 4 days in 3.  He said that he had heartburn because of his lunch choice. Instead, I ran to the drug store and got him antacids.

The evening carried on in its normal routine.  Bruce asked to make sure he was awake by midnight.  Midnight turned into about 12:45. He got up, got a shower and dressed.  He asked Meg (our daughter) if her sinuses had been bothering her.  He said his allergies were starting to flare up. 

He needed a ride about 3 miles from our house.  Typically, I would have suggested that Meg drive him to his car since she was awake.  Oddly, I didn’t.  I got up and went to the car.  I started to get in the passenger seat, then decided that it made more sense for me to drive, instead of changing seats in the next few minutes.

We were driving down the highway about 2 miles from home.  Things changed immediately and forever.

Bruce screamed and hit me.  I looked over at him and knew that I was in a race for time to the nearest hospital.  The entire day of him having heartburn, looking tired, and finally feeling as though he was starting to have allergy issues made perfect sense.  Heart attack.   I drove fast.  I drove really fast. 

I didn’t have my cell phone with me.  I arrived at the hospital.  They took him out of the car.  Someone was immediately on the gurney doing heart compressions.  I parked the car and went in to give insurance intake and wait. 

All I could think of was that I was going to telling 2 out of 3 of our kids in the next few minutes that their dad died.  The same person who was just alive 15 minutes earlier.  Wow.  I called Meg and told her that she and Greg had to come to the hospital.  I immediately called a friend of mine and told her that she and her husband had to beat Greg and Meg to the hospital.  In my mind, I remember vividly thinking, Chuck and Sandy will help me. 

  Before anyone got there the doctor came and escorted me into a small room.  He told me that Bruce had a heart attack and he was able to be revived.  He was stable, but needed to be taken to another hospital for surgery. 

I walked out to see the kids walking into the ER with Chuck and Sandy beside them.  I explained the situation.  The kids were walking in to see Bruce as they were preparing him for his life flight to another hospital. 

Now, we had to call Chris.  Imagine having to call your’ son across the country and tell him what is going on.  Imagine having to call brothers and sisters and telling them that their baby brother is being flown to Pittsburgh for emergency surgery.  Those calls were all made.

I was determined though with Chris that he was only told that his dad had a heart attack, survived but was going into surgery.  He needed to come home. 

I was thinking about the power of words.  A simple grouping of letters that create a powerful word.  When you think about it toddlers and preschoolers learn to recite the alphabet.  What they are really doing is becoming empowered through words. 

The first letter grouping I thought of was…..C.H.A.N.G.E.    Five tiny little letters that creates such a huge word. 

I am not going to personalize the power of CHANGE.  I am not going to explain effects MY personal life.  All I will say is that CHANGE like time is always evolving.  It is always around us.  It is always causing us to react.

What do you think about with the word CHANGE? 

Please start a discussion.  What is change?