Torn Asunder
The beauty of the world, which is so soon to perish, has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder. — Virginia Wolf
1. I Want To Hold His Hand.
The doorbell rang at 9:30, and I was in the middle of a major team mission in my video game. I thought it was Don, my husband, that he forgot his key.
I opened the door and went onto the porch in bare feet. It was hot out there, and we had the air conditioners going full blast. It wasn’t Don, but two men in uniform.
“Are you Mrs. Donald Jacob?” one asked. He wore glasses, and looked kind of old for a cop. He was in the dark blue uniforms of our local police, as opposed to the gray and brown of the state troopers.
“Yes?” Something happened to Don.
“Your husband has been in an accident. He’s at Rhode Island Hospital.”
“Oh, okay.” Thinking it’s nothing more than a few scrapes, I guess they needed me to go pick him up. My son, Logan, had come out to see what was going on. My father, who lived across the street, was out on his stairs to see what was going on.
“Don’s in the hospital,” I yelled over to him.
“Want a ride?” he asked.
“Sure, I guess.” So we all bundled up, Logan, my father and me, and we travelled the twenty minutes to the hospital. As we went, I got more and more worried. Why didn’t he call me? Why did they have to send the police?
When we got there, after some time, they took us to a side room on the first floor. This room had two couches that were across from each other. It was dimly lit by one lamp in the corner, and three people came in. One was a social worker, and there were two doctors.
“Your husband’s been in a very bad motorcycle accident.”
How bad could it be?
“He has very severe head trauma. He has broken ribs, and a broken leg…”
He’s a vegetable. I don’t think I could have handled that.
He looked to my son. “I think you should bring him home and come back.”
My father agreed to watch him, and I agreed to go home. I ended up coming back with my father’s new wife, Gloria. My mother had passed away eight years prior. I liked Gloria because she had tempered my father, something my mother never did.
When I got back, they sent me up to ICU’s waiting room. There, another doctor came down. This doctor was covered in blood. How much of it was my husband’s.
“I’m sorry, but he’s not going to live out the night.” It was 11:30 by this time.
“I don’t want any superhuman efforts to keep him alive. He wouldn’t want that.”
He smiled gently at me. “We already did.”
I only nodded, and tried to get a hold of his family. I told them, “Come down to RI Hospital NOW. Don’s had an accident.” I ended up leaving voice messages on their answering machines, and I kept trying to call and call and talk to a live person. I did get a hold of his brother Richard, and told him to get down here now.
Then I went in to see him.
He was covered in a sheet up to his neck. I’m sure it was because what was underneath was something I didn’t want to see. His face was cleaned off, but he had his stubble. His hair, long, and wild and free, was arranged on the pillow.
I looked at all the machines connected to him. The nurse told me that the machine was breathing for him. I looked at the IV and saw it was Fentanyl. I knew from experience that that was more powerful than morphine, and they were keeping him pain free.
I said, “Pull it.” We had discussed this only four months ago. I knew his intentions, and his wants. I stood next to him, and caressed his forehead, “Go ahead, let go, we’ll survive, we’ll do okay. Let go.”
They increased the Fentanyl, and then they disconnected the machines. I watched his chest no longer rise or fall. I sat down and reached for his hand. When I found it under the bundle of sheets, it was swollen. Some broken bones there, I thought.
“I love you,” I remember saying.
Then the nurse said, “He’s gone.”