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"The trained nurse has become one of the great blessings of humanity, taking a place beside the physician and the priest..." ~ William Oster I've been wanting to write this blog for months now. But it meant revisiting the worst day of my life. And I didn't know if I had the strength. But, it's National Nurses Day today and I cannot think of a better day to honor the angel (disguised as a nurse) who stood in grace and compassion with us the day we said "goodbye" to Courtney.  I obviously reflect on that day so often. I was talking to Josh on Courtney's birthday last week and he said, "I remember every single detail of that day" and I told him that I did, too. Every. Single. One. So I remember, after getting a call from the overnight nurse that Courtney had been unresponsive most of the night, walking into the ICU and meeting Taylor outside Courtney's room. Taylor was assigned to Courtney for that day. I know a lot of nurses at

"I'm fine!  I can jog all the way to Texas and back, but my daughter can't! She never could!  Oh God! I am so mad I don't know what to do! I wanna know why!  I wanna know *why* Shelby's life is over!  I wanna know how that baby will *ever* know how wonderful his mother was!  Will he *ever* know what she went through for him!  Oh *God* I wanna know *why*? *Why*?  Lord, I wish I could understand!"    ~ M'Lynn ("Steel Magnolias") Before I lost such a big part of my life and my heart, I really had no understanding of grief and mourning. As a human b eing, I have empathy of course. So I felt such sadness for people who lost loved ones. But I didn't really "get it". You really can't unless you've been through it yourself. I would be with people who have experienced loss and they'd appear happy, they'd be laughing. And I would think, "Oh, good. They must be healing." Or I would see their posts o

Courtney on a ventilator at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center I joke and use sarcasm as a coping mechanism. We all do something to get ourselves through tough times and unbearable pain. And that's what I do. And it works for me most of the time. But don't think for one second that I am not profoundly sad at least once a day. And it's more like many, many times a day. And not to make this pandemic about me but I will for just one minute so please indulge me. Seeing constant images of hospitals, nurses, doctors, ICUs, gloves, masks, gowns, electronic vital sign monitors...and, worst of all, ventilators is causing me such anxiety and trauma. I can smell the smells. I can hear the noises and the beeping. I know how to read all the machines, including the ventilator settings. I became an expert in reading Courtney's ventilator settings so I could watch for improvement. When you walk onto an ICU, all the patients' electronic vital sign monitors are displayed nex

When I went into Courtney's room to say "goodbye" to her on November 8th, she was heavily sedated and unresponsive. This was by design. It was time to let her go. But not before I went in to sit with her, hold her hand and say everything to her that I had stored up in my heart.  One of the things I said to Courtney that awful day was this: "Courtney, if you can find a way to come see me, to talk to me, to visit me...I need you to do it. If there is a way after death to find me, please come see me." And she did . I shouldn't be surprised by this because, when Courtney put her mind to something, there is nothing she could not accomplish. That was the stubborn in her. But it was also the love in her. There is nothing Courtney would not do for the people she loved. And she loved me.  Since Courtney died, many people have suggested to me that I see a medium to try to connect with Courtney. I have never really bought into this whole concept. I'm skept

"Grief Sucks." ~ Everyone Ever I had a day yesterday. I woke up feeling heavy, feeling "off". No specific reason for it. And "heavy" is the only way I can describe it. The nightmares and dreams of Courtney have started. I was wondering when that might happen. Sleeping is getting to be quite an adventure. I woke up in literal tears the other night because I walked by a door in my dream and I heard Courtney crying. And I was flipping out and panicking trying to get to her. I don't need a therapist to diagnose that one for me. But I hadn't had a nightmare or sad dream (that I could recall) which would cause me to wake feeling so heavy yesterday morning. I have sad days so I chalked it up to that.  Jim and I went to the gym in the morning and that always helps me. And it did for a little while. I felt better. We got home and Jim kept asking me what I wanted to do for the day. And I both wanted to do something and didn't want to do

                                                              "Fly, fly, precious one; Your endless journey has begun; Take your gentle happiness; Far too beautiful for this; Cross over to the other shore; There is peace forevermore; But hold this memory bittersweet; Until we meet.   ~ "Fly" (Celine Dion) I told you I would start with the end first. And I've put it off long enough. But, as I think about this, I don't think the end can be fully understood until I tell the steps leading up to it. I'm hoping that writing about it all will release some of the horror of it for me. I doubt it. But I'll try anything at this point.  I thank you in advance for being willing to read this because there is no way you will be immune from taking on a piece of my pain as you hear the full story. And, just a friendly warning, it may stick with you forever. So read at your own risk. I'm asking a lot of you. I know this. It