Healing Narrative - Grief Writing Class
Three days after receiving a positive Covid test, Carl was feeling better than he had the prior two weeks. Less coughing, more energy, and blood oxygen levels were good/stable. It was a Monday and he worked from home as we were in shut down and under strict quarantine due to his covid positive results. We had a fun Zoom call with Joel and Andy Neely from our Colorado conference. But Carl’s brain was still quite foggy and not working quite right. Which was frustrating him.
We ate dinner and probably watched a show or movie on tv, and headed to bed. We made love for the first time in over a week or so, as he was finally feeling more himself and had some energy. It was beautiful and felt amazing to be intimate again. I am so grateful we shared that moment - especially knowing what was going to happen within hours afterward.
At 3:30am, Carl woke up to use the bathroom. When he walked back into the bedroom and past the bed to his side of the bed, I asked him, “You okay?”, to which he replied, “Yes. I just had to poop!”. Hahaha. And, “But I think I tweaked by back. It’s hurting”. He laid down and I turned away from him and snuggled in. I heard him sit up in bed and prop up against the headboard and thought to myself, “Ugh. His back must really be bugging him and he’s going to try to sleep sitting up”.
Then I heard a very loud SLAM sound and I sat up quickly and looked over to find Carl slumped over the side of the bed, the left side of his face laying on the nightstand with his left arm hanging down between the bed and the nightstand. I shook him and screamed, “Carl! Carl!”. Nothing. No response. I screamed again and shook him. Nothing.
I grabbed my phone and called 911. The operator was amazing and careful with me as I was quite scared. I checked his pulse and there was nothing…she said I had to get him laying flat and start CPR. He was so heavy. So very heavy to “lift” down to the floor. The operator said the fire department was on their way and their ETA was 5 minutes. I didn’t have to do the breath part of CPR, but only chest compressions. I had my phone on speaker so that she could help count the compressions for me and keep me on track and encourage me. She kept saying, “you’re doing a great job”. Carl’s eyes starred blankly at the ceiling. I was glad that I had taken a CPR class when the kids were in preschool, so I knew the basics and knew that I had to press harder than one would imagine. That was a very long 5 minutes…felt like an eternity and I was getting tired doing the compressions, but there was no way I would give up on Carl!
I could see the red glare of the fire engine lights as they entered the driveway and the operator told me they had arrived. I told her the code to the front door and heard them yell down the hallway asking where I was. I screamed back, “Down the hallway, all the way to the end!”. Three firemen entered the bedroom and immediately took over caring for Carl. I heard the velcro of the BP cuff rip open, and lots of chatter between the paramedics as they evaluated the situation.
The fire chief pulled me aside to the opposite side of the bed and asked me a few questions about Carl, what had happened and details about his illness. He then said, “Ma’am, would you like to put some pants on?”. Oh boy! I was standing there in the t-shirt I had worn the day before and my panties….my usual “pjs”. “Yes, yes I would. Thank you”. I walked into the closet and threw on some sweatpants and socks and a hoodie sweatshirt and walked back into the bedroom where I heard “Clear!”. And knew that they were trying to get Carl’s heart pumping again. The fire chief walked me into the hallway where I sat on the stairway that leads up to Carl’s office, and he was asking me more questions about how long Carl had had covid, whether he had any pre-existing conditions, etc. “Clear!”, I heard again, and again a third time, “Clear!”. I must have reacted physically to this, and the fire chief suggested we move out to the living room where it was quiet and we could discuss more items.
One of the firemen was out there with me as the Sheriffs department arrived and one of the deputies walked into the house and took about six steps, stopped, looked around at all of us, masks on….and turned around and left. He had realized this was a “covid house” and immediately left and refused to reenter. No one from the Sheriffs department entered the house the remainder of that day. I walked over to the shoe rack by the front door and grabbed my converse and walked back over to the couch to put them on. The fireman was there “keeping me company”…and as I went to my shoe on, I realized and said out loud to him, “Oh….I’m not going to be allowed into the hospital with Carl, am I?”. They were not allowing family members in with covid patients at this point because not much was known about the virus. “No, I’m sorry ma’am. You will not be allowed in”. Oof. That gutted me. At this point I was still under the impression that Carl was going to head to the hospital.
At 4:50am, the fire chief came walking down the hallway to the living room, and spoke to the fireman that was there with me. The fireman then turned to me and said, “Is there someone you can call to come be with you?”. “No, no one can come and risk being exposed….as they are assuming I have covid too”. He then proceeded to tell me that they had given Carl some medications to try to get his heart pumping again, had shocked him three times, but that it hadn’t worked. “We are very sorry, but your husband didn’t make it”.
“No!”. “Wait. No!”, I said. Tears rushed out of my eyes. My heart started pounding so hard. I fell back onto the couch and sat there in total shock. Not my Handsome. This can’t be.
Carl was pronounced dead at 4:48am. His death certificate states the cause of death as, A) Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome, B) Covid 19.
I called my sister, Sue. But the call went to her voicemail - it was not quite 5am. So I called my brother, Glenn, knowing he’d be waking up to go to work at about that time. Glenn answered….I said, “Glenn, Carl didn’t make it. The paramedics are here and he didn’t make it”. Tears falling down my face. Glenn said, “No! NO! Oh Tracy. No!”. I asked him if he could please let Mom know and our other siblings. That I needed to call my kids and Carl’s sister and let them know.
I could hear lots of talking down the hallway in the bedroom and gathering up of their equipment, and the firemen coming down the hall and back out to their trucks. The Sheriff cars were still up above in the culdesac.
I called my daughter, Nicki, first. Then called my son, Sean. Two of the hardest calls I have ever, ever made. We were all in shock, as Carl had zero preexisting conditions, and was feeling better. We just couldn’t wrap our heads around the fact that he was gone. Nicki said to me, “Mom, you need to keep doing whatever you’ve already been doing. Eat well, exercise, sleep. We can’t lose you too!”. Calling Carl’s sister was the third hardest call I had to make. Having just called her two months before, early in the morning, to tell her that her Dad had passed, weighed heavy on my heart. Now, having to call to tell her about her brother.
My brothers and sister in law were on their way to me, and they would camp out on the deck for the day bundled up in coats, trying to stay warm while keeping me company while I tried to process what had happened. No one was allowed inside the house and I was not to leave and go anywhere as I was under quarantine, day 10 I think at this point.
The Sheriff knocked on my door. I answered. He informed me that the San Mateo county coroner refused to come take the body, and that I had to find someone else to come take the body away. “What????”. “Who do I ask?”. He said, “Maybe Santa Clara county coroner? Or a funeral home.”.
Sadly, I had Darling Fischers contact information right at hand as we had just finished planning and having my father in laws service and burial 4 weeks prior. So I called the number. They said they would come, but that a crew couldn’t get there for 2.5 hours….so maybe by 8:30am. Okay. What choice did I have?
I remember having a phone call with my sister, Joanie, and her saying something about maybe not going back down to the bedroom and having my last memory of Carl being that. But I felt compelled to say goodbye.
I walked down the hallway. Entered our bedroom, where Carls body lay on the floor covered by the brown throw blanket we kept at the foot of our bed. Paper wrappers and plastic vials and other medical “stuff” was left on the floor here and there.
I pulled back the blanket from Carl’s face and body. I held his hand and told him, “I love you. I’m so sorry. I want you to know that I’ll be okay.“. I removed his wedding ring and I stroked his beautiful face and gave him one final kiss on the lips. Told him once more, “ I love you.“. I covered him back up. I picked up the pieces of trash from the floor and walked back out to the living room.
I don’t recall what time my siblings arrived. Whether it was before the funeral home crew arrived to pick up Carl’s body. I do recall that “paparazzi” showed up saying they had heard on the police scanner that “officers had been exposed to covid”. Oy. My brother Scott walked up to the culdesac and spoke with the man and asked him to leave. The Sheriff also told the man to leave. The Sheriff came to the door again, and said that they would leave a deputy at the end of my driveway and up in the culdesac for the remainder of the day to deter any unwanted “visitors”.
Sometime around 8:30am, a two person crew from the funeral home arrived, dressed in hazmat suits. They walked threw the side yard along the brick pathway pushing a gurney, and entered the bedroom via the outside stairway. I watched all of this from the windows in my dining room. They loaded Carl’s body onto the gurney and made their way back down the stairway, along the brick pathway, and loaded his body into their vehicle. A knock at my front door. I had to sign a few papers releasing Carl’s body to their care. I closed the door and broke down into tears and crumbled to the floor, praying to God, asking for strength and comfort. I was broken.
I made phone calls throughout the day informing people about Carls death. I remember my brother Glenn standing outside the screen door crying as he listened to me tell the story over and over and over again, and he was so proud of my strength. Granted, I was in shock and just in survival mode at this point.
I had a phone call with my doctor in the afternoon to discuss what had happened and she informed me that my quarantine would have to start over again at Day 1 beginning April 1, and lasting 14 days. No one was allowed inside my home, and I was not to leave other than for a walk by myself, masked, and avoid all contact with anyone. She called in a prescription for something to help me sleep in case I needed it. Glenn went and picked up the prescription for me, as I was not to leave the house. Thankfully, I never had to take the meds. Somehow I slept in our bed that night and every night there after.
My neighbor came by just before it was turning dark, and left a beautiful bowl with camellias from her garden floating in it, and some battery operated candles that she set up on my patio table…. ”to give me light throughout the night that was going to be filled with darkness”.
