Grieving During a Pandemic

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 next to each other on screens. First thing I did when I would walk into the ICU to see Courtney was to quickly scan her vitals on the monitor. 

"Her heart rate is 149 this morning? Not good!" 

"Her oxygen is 94% tonight? Not good!"

Courtney's ventilator settings at DHMC

I look at the Covid-19 patients on the news and I can tell if they have an A-Line (arterial line), an NG tube (feeding tube), a port, a picc line, a pulse oximeter, I can quickly scan their ventilator settings, I read their vitals monitors. I do it almost without thinking because I've been conditioned to do it. Because the last two months of Courtney's life, I became a medical expert on all of these things. I took pictures of her monitor and ventilator every day so I could compare the settings to see if they were better or worse. I know way too much about what it looks like when you're seriously ill and dying. And now it's on my television and all over my social media feeds 24/7 right now. 

Courtney's vital monitor settings at DHMC

And I am absolutely traumatized by it all. My memories of Courtney - looking exactly like these patients look - are flooding back and haunting me constantly. And they are just so (almost too) painful. Oddly, I haven't dreamed of Courtney much  - and I thought that would happen constantly. I had a dream the other night though that she was lost and I was trying to find her. I had left her in a crowd and I had to leave for some reason and I told her I would be back to get her. And then I couldn't find her. I was frantic. Courtney was not a fan of being out in public and had a lot of anxiety. So I was heartsick knowing she must have been scared and anxious. I finally found her sitting in the middle of a crowd, knees drawn up to her chest, crying. And I grabbed her and just kept saying, "Courtney, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry". My grief has just been spilling over lately and I suspected it was because of all that I have written above but it made me feel selfish to think that way. "This pandemic has nothing to do with Courtney. I can't make everything about her. That's not healthy for me. I need to be tougher, stronger." Those were the thoughts I was having.  

And then I saw this quote on a supportive Facebook site I now follow that is for parents who have lost their children:

And I was so relieved. Sometimes you just want your thoughts normalized and validated. Sometimes you just want to know that you are not the only one thinking or feeling certain things. Sometimes you just need to know that you aren't selfish, or weak, or crazy or (completely) broken. I guess knowing is half the battle, right? And I'll just continue to rely on humor - and the endless teasing of my husband for a good laugh. He loves me so much that he allows my antics - how lucky am I?

"Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." ~ Truvey Jones, "Steel Magnolias"