It is strange how your day begins with sunshine, and at times ends in a storm.
He fell, I was told. My neighbor heard him yelling for help. He ran to his aid and called 911. When I got the call, Sal was being transported to the ER. He was in pain and we all thought he had broken a hip. As he was being wheeled away, his words were to his mother, "Mom help me," and off he went.
As the day continued on, my thoughts were on him, wondering now, with a broken hip, he probably would never walk again. My feelings of frustration and abandonment surfaced. As I shared this with my SSO, his words to me were simple yet profound, "You don't kick someone when they are down." These words haunted me all day. They ripped at my gut and allowed my heart to feel.
I normally would not visit Sal in the hospital. I guess by me not seeing him, I can always have hope that he would return to me. If I did see him, and his look was sickly, the realization of his illness would surface, and I would have to face the work world without him.
Yesterday was different. I felt I needed to see him, to talk, to come to terms, to understand that we as a team would be no more. So on my way home I decided to stop by the ER. Parking was atrocious. I drove around several times and almost gave up, but something pulled me there, something deep inside knew I had to go. I parked illegally (which I never do, ever) and off I went.
The ER was packed. I found my way to the attendant and asked for him by name. I was told a room number along with directions. I had to navigate my way thru several doors, and several people. I walked on but could not find the room number I was told to look for. So I circled and circled and circled until finally I asked a very busy nurse. "Go thru that open doorway, behind the curtain."
As I pulled the curtain, I saw a man that for some reason was not familiar to me. I looked again, scanned the cubicle, and thought, "Is this Sal?" A man with a tube in his mouth, not hooked up to anything, was just laying there all by himself. "Sal, Sal it's me. Sal, Sal it's me." The slit of his eye was visible, so he had to know it was me. "Sal, Sal it's me, Sal!" And then it hit me. He was gone.
I went blank. My mind whirled. I checked his hand for the ring he always wore. The ring was there. I looked for movement of his chest. I watched and watched and watched. No movement. I knew, my heart knew. I left the cubicle only to go back in three more times. The thought of what was occurring was not processing.
My feet finally took me to the nurses station where everyone was so busy. I asked for help and was sent to another nurses station. A nurse without a inch of a smile looked up at me and I pleaded. "Please, I need your help." And her reply, "What." I think of this now and I wish I had kicked her in the shin (as Zona would do). Instead I froze as I said his name to her only to hear, "I will get the Dr." Frozen in time I was, as I waited. The Dr approached, took my hand, and I said to him, "He is gone, isn't he?" One word, I remember the one word, "Yes."
He was responsive when he got to the ER, x-rays came back fine, no broken bones, blood work came back fine. But in a sudden twist, his pressure dropped, his breathing was labored. They worked on him for an hour, but to no avail. His heart could not take it.
I made one phone call, to my neighbor, who I asked to come (which he did). As I waited, I went back to his cubicle, behind the curtain, and stood by his side. Thru my tears, I said, "Sal, we started together and we end together."
I thought, if I did not come here tonite, who knows when we would have found out of his passing. If the attendant did not notify me as I asked him to, then when would the call have come. To be alone as one passes is unthinkable. I stayed with him for several hours. I watched as he received his blessing. I did not leave his side. In my heart I knew he called for me, he pulled me there. He did not want to be alone. His family arrived and I was glad they did. And with their arrival, it was time for me to bid farewell.
My only wish, my only hope, is that he is resting, in peace with the God he so loved.