He’d been in the hospital for two weeks now, for rejection of his lung transplant. I was my ever optimistic self, thinking that nothing could go too terribly wrong. He’d been through so much already and always, ALWAYS he came out on top. The doctors had this situation under control, right!!?! That’s what they’d said for the whole two weeks anyway. That they could fix him. They were experts in their field and I had faith in them. And most importantly, I had been praying hard for the Lord to keep him safe, to make him better. Never mind that every outward sign was showing otherwise.
Dr. Lynch looked me in the eye and said,”Your husband is not going to make it.”
Admittedly, in the last few days it was getting harder and harder to stay optimistic. I had to literally force my mind to stay positive. And I did. For my husband and for myself. In my mind it was the only sane answer. The other option was beyond anything I wanted to think about. Just unimaginable. I kept praying for a small sign of improvement. Every morning at the hospital, I held hope that today would be the day. But every day I was let down. I had sealed myself to believe that it was God’s will for my husband to survive. It just had to be. Yet doom knocked at my door and and lurked in my every thought. It begin to follow me around like a dark cloud over my head. A miracle could still happen. I knew that. But would it? That question dogged my mind. I prayed for more faith and even visualized Curt being healed to bolster my strength.
So it was that my son, Josh and I were meeting with the three main doctors to discuss my husband’s treatment. It was a Sunday. I should have known what was coming. But I didn’t. After sitting down in a private room, Dr Lynch, looked me in the eye and said the unthinkable, “Your husband is not going to make it. We have done all we can.”
The words rolled off his lips and to my ears without comprehension. I sat stunned as one by one each doctor made their case for why they had come to that agreement. I heard the words twice again. “Curtis is not going to make it.” It was like a bad dream, like it wasn’t real. But I knew. Somewhere in my heart I already knew. Even before they said the words. That was the truth that was edging out my hope all along. The doctors left and gave my son and I some space. That’s when I broke down.
THE UNIMAGINABLE HAD HAPPENED.
Tears washed down my face as I fell into Joshua’s arms and sobbed. “I’m sorry son. I’m so sorry.” I heard myself saying over and over again. That’s all I could say as my mind and emotions, my total being, spun out of control.
There in that room, time stood still. It was March 8, 2015 at 3:00 in the afternoon and the world had just stopped for me.
It had completely stopped.
Life After Curt 