Closing Things Out...

Hi everyone, I guess it has been a bit since my last post. For those of you who read it, I hope that it provided some insight to life and loss. I promise to keep things up better going forward. The goal for this post, is to close out how things ended up in Rochester and the Mayo Clinic. The next post will help to bring you up to speed on where I am today. Before I really begin, just wanted to say thanks to Jayne for helping me to get this post out there!

Sunday, May 25th, 2003

As most of you know, Dad left to head home on Saturday, about the same time that one of my best friends in the world, Rich McNitt, and Kim's brother Tom arrived. Saturday was a good day for Kim. She was alert, used the computer, played card games, and was in good spirits given her physical condition. After dinner on Saturday night, Rich, Tom and I went back to visit Kim. I was exhausted. Kim and I had planned on me taking the night off, and sleeping at the apartment. However, when it came time to leave, Kim asked me to stay. I did, and it was a long night. Her poor body itched from all of the toxins in it, and she was up most of the night. The nurse on duty and I took turns scratching Kim's back and rubbing her legs. At one point in the night, I just lost it and started beating on the wall in frustration. {Note to self...don't do that again, it hurts!}

When morning came, Kim and I talked, and I told her that it was time to start eating, and getting her health back. I told her that without her, I would be a mess, and I needed her to take care of me. She agreed, and said today was a new day, and that she was ready to get better. Little did we know that I would find out all too soon what life would be like without her.

Kim tried to eat, but threw-up her food. She then was able to keep some liquids down. The nurse then came in to set-up dialysis, which Kim hated with a passion. While they did that, I ran downstairs to get some food. When I came back up, they were about ready to start the dialysis, so Kim and I turned on The Today show to watch.

Dialysis started out fine. A brief minute of Kim not feeling good as the first pass of blood left her body. Then, about 2 minutes in, something strange happend. Kim told me that her back hurt, and she started to sweat. I went and got a cold towel, placed it on her head, and started to rub her back. She told me she did not feel good. I told the nurse to stop dialysis. But just then, the nurse and I both looked at he dialysis machine, and Kim's blood pressure started to drop dramatically. When it hit 50/20 I yelled at the nurse to do something. She froze. I ran outside and called code red...seemed like the right thing to do. I went back in to the room, and Kim looked at me. Gave me a small smile, and then her eyes rolled back in her head. A team of doctors and nurses came running in with a crash cart, and asked me to leave.

So, there I sat. Outside of Kim's room, alone, on a chair. I prayed like I never had before. Just kept saying over, and over, and over..."Please God, don't take her." I guess God was a bit busy that morning, because it didn't work.

Next thing I remember is Rich and Tom walking into the area, laughing, talking...then they saw me. They came over, and moved me into a quiet waiting room. Then the priest came in, and told me Kim had passed away. Then the doctors...then the nurses. What had happened? No one could answer my questions. Then the big question...do you want an autopsy? How was I supposed to know? In talking to Rich, we decided yes. BTW...I still don't have the results of the report...thanks Mayo Clinic.

I was told that I could go see Kim after they "cleaned her up". Little did I know that with an autopsy, they need to leave the body more or less in the shape that it was left in by those trying to save it. So, when I went into the room, there laid my Kimmy. Bald, pale, with blood coming out of the tube in her mouth from the the doctor’s efforts to save her. Apparantly, they punctured Kim’s lung while working on her. I had to keep wiping the blood up as it poured out of that tube. Strange how blood continues to flow after death. I will never forget what it looked like. Her body was still warm to the touch. It was, and continues to be the most surreal experience of my life. After a 1/2 hour or so, I had Rich and Tom come in. We then packed up Kim's belongings, and that was it. 6 weeks of Mayo Clinic Hell, ended in the ultimate Hell...losing Kim.

The three of us went back to the apartment, and I made some calls. First to Mom and Dad, then to Gwen. Two of the most unpleasant calls of my life. I took a shower, packed a bag, and we headed to the airport. I remember being in the shower, and trying to sort things out…start planning life without Kim. I just sat there on the shower floor with the water running off of me. I swear, I could feel each and every drop of water hit my body. Really strange.

A short flight to Minneapolis, and then a flight back to Cleveland. I remember sitting in the bar in the airport, and literally, every person that walked by appeared to be a flash of light. Give me more vodka, I remember telling the bartender. We then went to the President's club with Contiental. More vodka. Then to the plane...they put us in first class thanks to Rich taking care of everything. More vodka. Funny thing is, the vodka was not helping. Probably a lesson I should have remembered and hung onto…could have served me well later.

We got back home, and Gwen picked me up at the airport. A long ride back to Mom and Dad's house after that. I don’t really remember what we talked about. Someone else was driving, and Gwen just held me. I think my body was starting to shut down or something. I couldn’t really feel anything or move.

Much happend over the ensuing days. Decisions to be made, calling hours, funeral. I will tell you, I was amazed by all of the people that Kim touched. Between the calling hours, funeral, letters, phone calls...it was amazing. I knew Kim was one of kind, but not to this level. She just touched so many people. I still have all of those cards.

I remember at the funeral, I got up to talk. I talked about Kim and my life. Our 16 years together from me being 15 when I met her, to being 31 when she passed away. One of the last things I said was “I don’t know when Darin will be back, but he will be, a little bit different, but he will be back.” Today, going on 6 years since Kim passed away, I am back. Just as I said. A different person, with a different life, but I am back. And the best part is, I am truly adjusting to it. Finally taking control of some things, and approaching getting help in a different way.

So, that is how our odessy ended at the Mayo Clinic. You know, never once did Kim and I talk about her dying. What she would want me to do, how she would want me to live, what her expecations of me would be. Now, I really wish we would have.

Overall, I do believe that she would be proud of me today. My wife, Carol, takes amazing care of me, loves me unconditionally, and keeps me going. Our daughter, Grace Kimberly, is a blessing of immense proportions. My business is going well. I have recently made some changes to my lifestyle that Kim would be most proud of. So overall, I have jumped back on the wild ride that is life. With all of the pain, blessings, joy, sorrow, questions, and love that is life.

Talk to you soon.

DRH