Coronavirus, Vaccines, PTSD and Sepsis…Oh My!

Almost four years ago, my husband had a simple weight loss surgery and it lead to complications. Those complications led to sepsis which lead to septic shock. The septic shock was so bad that it lead to multi-organ system failure.

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To say my world crashed down around me would be an understatement. I felt like the ground was being taken out from under my feet.
After several weeks in a medically induced coma and a month on dialysis, his kidneys started functioning again.
Then he caught C. Difficile.
(Though you don’t really catch C Diff. C-Diff is a harmful bacteria that resides in us all the time but is kept in check by the good bacteria within our bodies. However, antibiotics can kill off the good bacteria and C Diff takes advantage of the situation and grows and then turns into an infection)
He was treated with Flagyl and Vancomycin so it shouldn’t be too surprising that he developed VRE (Vancomycin Resistant Enterococci).
And he was pretty much a constant state of pneumonia.
He couldn’t eat. All his nutrition came from an IV. It was called Total Parenteral Nutrition, or TPN. However, his body was having trouble absorbing the TPN. He always had a thick head of hair and most of it fell out.
He couldn’t talk because he had a tracheotomy. He was the one person who always would reassure me that everything would be okay and he couldn’t. Though it would have been a lie because everything clearly wasn’t okay.
He was always a man of great strength and I watch him become so weak he could barely lift his thumb.
And then came staph. And he went into septic shock again. His kidneys failed again. He had to go back on dialysis.
At this point I completely lost my faith in God because, as a Cradle Catholic, I was taught God was a loving God and there is no way a loving God could have done that to Bryon and to my daughter. Please don’t take this as a plea that I need to be saved. I’m okay and doing just fine.
In a period of 5 months I watched him cling to his life. I watched his body become resistant to antibiotics. I watched him move up the antibiotic chain until he got to the end of the line.
Yes…there actually are specific antibiotics called “End of the line antibiotics.”
For 5 months I lived off adrenaline. I don’t think I can express how helpless and desperate I felt.
Sadly this story didn’t end the way I wanted it to.
I can tell you that there is some residual PTSD. Trust me…when my daughter gets a cut, Mom puts neosporin on it right away. Also any fever over 100.4 puts me in a panic and will always include a trip to peds urgent care.
Currently the United States is on the eve of a severe new disease that we don’t know much about.
Also, on Tuesday Maine has an important vaccine vote.

I won’t get into that though my Facebook friends definitely know how I feel about the vote.
From what we know (if the numbers are correct- I’m looking at you CCP/China), 5% of the people who get the Novel Coronavirus COVID 19 will become critically ill…like, ICU ill. Of those 5%, half of them will likely die.
Now is not the time to take our healthcare system for granted. It is definitely not perfect. It will get overwhelmed. The healthcare system isn’t limitless.
Our healthcare providers are going to be busy.
Be wise with your healthcare choices. And you are your best advocate. Do whatever you can to prevent getting sick- eat right, sleep, was your hands, don’t touch your face or pick your nose. Stay home if you are sick.
As my late husband would say “Don’t be a Dick”.
Keep yourself and others from getting sick. (Yes I made the rhyme on purpose).
Sepsis, in short, is an inflammatory response where your body goes into overdrive when it’s fighting off an infection and starts to attack itself.
The reality is any infection or virus can potentially cause sepsis. A tooth infection…the flu…measles…an infected cut…step throat…pneumonia…the new Coronavirus…and many more can all potentially lead to sepsis.

I have seen people get hysterical about the Coronavirus. I have seen people mocking those who appear to be hysterical. I worry that there very few people are where they are supposed to be…vigilant and concerned.

I also worry about the people who spread lies about vaccines and that no one holds them accountable. There are many parents who are researching and trying to do what is best and anti-vaxxers prey on these people.

Make your own decisions but make sure you research the places you get your information.

You can ignore Science. You can run from Science. But Science will catch up with you eventually.
The worst case scenario can happen to you. It happened to my husband and my family. Don’t dismiss “worst case scenario” stories as scare tactics. My story actually happened and it was a nightmare. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
I don’t usually share that part of my story. Personally, it is painful and I wish I could forget it. But I can’t.

And now that story is apart of me.
But with these two important issues going on…the only thing I ask you is to educate yourself on sepsis and the symptoms of sepsis and seek medical care if you or a loved one exhibits these symptoms.
At the very least, please look at the FAQ section from the Sepsis Alliance website but also look around the website. There is a lot of valuable information.

Sepsis Alliance FAQ

Why I don’t play the “what if” game (4-minute read)

My husband, Bryon passed away in 2016.

His illness had come as a shock.  His body went into shock and he almost died at the beginning but he survived.

He did have an uphill battle ahead of him.  He spent 5 months in the ICU fighting for his life.

I knew death was a potential outcome but I really thought he was going to make it through.  But it didn’t work out that way.

After Bryon died, my mind tried to make sense of what had just happened.

I was trying to figure out what my “new normal” was.

As I was trying to figure out my new life, I kept comparing it to my old life.  My old life was the only point of reference I knew.

And every time I would have to make any sort of decision, I would imagine what Bryon would think of the situation.  After all, we spent almost every day together for the past 8 years and he wasn’t only my spouse.  He was my best friend.  We talked about everything.

Bryon was on my mind a lot.

 

While one is never free of grief, the emotions usually ease up over time.  Some say time heals all wounds.  I don’t discount that theory but I think that the easing of emotions over time can be attributed to the fact that you begin to get used to them being gone.

But in those early days, I was wondering what the *bleep* had just happened to my life.

I found myself wondering what if Bryon were still alive.  What would he say?  What would he do?  What would our life be like?

I would watch our TV shows and wonder what he’d think of the plotline.  Or how hard he’d laugh at one of the jokes.

As the Election of 2016 unfolded, I wondered what he would have thought of it all.

In the beginning, it was easy to bridge the gap from “new life” to “old life”.  I was in our house with our daughter (who was still a toddler) and our cat and I was among all our belongings.  Our friends were around.  I was essentially living our life…without him.

It was very easy to slip back into the past, even if it was only in my mind.

But over time, things began to change.

My daughter got older.  Even though my role as a mother changed when I went from co-parent to solo parent, my role as a mother changed as I observed my toddler turning into a pre-schooler.

I started to give away and donate items of his that I didn’t need or want.  Though this was a lengthy process as Bryon saved everything and there was a lot of sentiment attached to his possessions.

I got a new job where I could work from home.  If he was still alive, I couldn’t work from home.  He sometimes worked from home and he joked that we couldn’t both work from home.

Many friends drifted away.  I also learned that many of “our friends” were really just his friends and those friendships crumbled.

Over time, my home stopped feeling like home.  I began to feel as alien in New York then as I did when I moved there in 2009.

I realized “our life” no longer existed and that I was fooling myself thinking I could reconstruct a life out of the remnants of “our old life”.

I changed.  I grew.  I am not the same person I was.

My life has been a revolving door of change.

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Change has been the only constant.

I had to grieve the life I once knew.

But now my life path has meandered.  It is a lot harder to think “If Bryon was here…” because if Bryon were alive, I wouldn’t be where I was.

I know Bryon is always with me in that esoteric kind of way but I am very removed from the life we had.

I can’t wonder “what if” anymore.

The only thing wondering “what if” will accomplish is denying me happiness in my current life.

I can’t move forward if I am constantly looking back.

It doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate our memories.

It doesn’t mean that I can’t cry when I miss him or that I can’t laugh when I think of a funny memory.

It doesn’t mean that I have to stop loving him.

I know that wherever Bryon is, he would want me to be happy.

After everything I have been through, the least I can do is let myself be happy.

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Weekly Gratitude #10: Three Years

Today is my blog’s birthday.

I started this blog as a way to process and cope with all the emotions I was feelings 5 months post-loss.  I was starting to “wake up” from the grief fog and I felt the need to share my emotions as I have noticed a dearth of information to help young widows.  I wanted my information out there so if another widow stumbled across it, they would know that they were not alone.

I also felt the need to share my story because I wanted others to understand the emotions that a widowed person felt, at least from my perspective.  After all, that is the only perspective I can honestly offer.

So much has changed since that time.

At that time I was somewhere between existing and surviving.

Now I am a survivor and on some days, I might even consider myself to be thriving.

Some locations in my story have changed.

Some characters in my story are the same, but some characters are different. I don’t doubt that all the characters in my life are there (or have been there) for a reason.

When I started this blog, my daughter was a toddler.  Now she is a kindergartener.

As I reread some of my earlier blog posts, I feel that strange dichotomy that widows feel.  The dichotomy where my old life and my old self feel current and they exist alongside my new life and new self.

My last two sentences of my first blog post really hit me hard.

“A part of me died with him that morning.  This is the story of the part of me that is still living.”

At that point in time, my soul was completely fractured.  I felt like an empty shell of who I was and I had no clue how I was going to move forward.

Now it is three years later.  I have survived.  I have grown.

Yes, a part of me may have died the same morning Bryon did but the part of me that is still living has forged ahead.

She has grown back into a whole, albeit different, person.

I want to thank all of you who have been a part of this ride.  As I said the other day, nothing ever lasts forever.  But I appreciate all of you who continue to travel this journey with me.

Weekly Gratitude #6: Thank you for being a friend

I hope you all can forgive me for being brief today.  I am writing this on the fly- between work and the festivities going on.  So I apologize for the brevity but please know that it comes from my heart just the same.

I just wanted to take a moment for thanking you for being there.

This post got started in my head because I have been feeling sappy lately and I got a special Christmas ornament in the mail from an old friend.  Isn’t it amazing?

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To thank everyone who has been a friend whether it means you are one of closest friends or an acquaintance.

I am grateful for my old friends, whether they are childhood friends, family friends, high school friends, college friends, political friends (those do exist!), running buddies, old roommates and neighbors, church friends and friends.  Thank you for always being there for me.

I am grateful for all my new friends.  You teach me that you can make new friends at any age.  A lot of my new friends are friends I made because of my daughter.  You know, parents of her friends in all her activities.  I am glad my daughter chose friends with cool parents.

I also appreciate the friends I have not met yet.

I am grateful for internet friends.  Special shoutout to my widow tribe, Sept 2012 brides and to everyone who takes the time to read this blog.  I hope someday to meet all of you.  Well, most of you.  I don’t want to meet anyone who is creepy that might be reading this.  Sorry.

I am grateful for the friends who may not be in my inner circle.  I am grateful for acquaintances who take the time to smile.  You make my day.  I am grateful for awkwardly placed friends in the “more than an acquaintance but maybe not a friend.”  Even if we don’t know each other well and aren’t a big part in each others lives, your kindness does matter.

I am even grateful for former friends.  Not all our times were bad and you sure taught me some tough lessons.  Maybe our paths will intertwine someday though some of you- probably not.  And that is okay.  I wish you the best in your life.

I am grateful for all of you, whether we talk daily or only catch up with years in between, whether we spend time in person or catch up on social media.

Even though I have embraced the loneliness of being a widow, having people who share their joy with me and my daughter does make life sweeter.  I can only hope that I am able to bring you some joy as well.

Thank you for being in my life.

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Weekly Gratitude #5: When grief turns into joy

The holidays are in full swing around here.

Last week we attended the Christmas Tree lighting in the next town over.  We had missed our towns tree lighting due to it being on the same night as gymnastics and swim.

There were crafts and treats and even a visit with Santa.

 

We saw the Grinch as performed by the Frogtown Puppeteers at our local (and historic) theater.

My daughter was in our local holiday parade with her Girl Scout Troop.

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We went to the Downeast Festival of Trees.  I had never been before.  I learned that the trees all have prizes and you put raffle tickets in the buckets of the trees you wanted.  My daughter took my tickets and put them into the buckets of all the trees with toys.

She also saw Santa again and told him she wanted a Barbie.  Because the 30ish she has now isn’t enough.

On Sunday my daughter’s Girl Scout Troop took part in the Wreaths Across America Ceremony.  My father, Local and District VFW Commander was a part of the ceremony.

This week we also had my daughter’s first school Holiday concert.  I am bummed out the Prime Minister didn’t attend but I guess he’s busy with the elections in UK that are wrapping up as I am typing this.  I am also disappointed that I didn’t get to dress her up as a Christmas Lobster.

(Bonus points if you got the Love Actually Reference)

The excitement isn’t ending any time soon.

But this week it dawned on me.

I spend so much time thinking about Bryon isn’t here to see our daughter grow up.

I don’t think about what a blessing it is that I get to our daughter grow up.

It doesn’t mean that it isn’t sad that Bryon isn’t here.

We will never forget him.  Never.

I will always think about the fact that he is missing whatever milestone we are celebrating or what fun event we are doing.

But maybe it’s okay to stop dwelling on it so much.

My daughter and I have many years ahead of us.  Years filled with busy, hectic weekends.

My daughter’s joy has always been my biggest priority.

My second priority has been thinking about Bryon, being sad and dwelling on his death and absence.

And my happiness comes last.

But maybe it’s time to swap the second and third.  It’s a hard thing to admit but being sad all the time is exhausting.

And I can’t believe that Bryon would want that.

My daughter and I are still living on this Earth and it is time to embrace life for what it is and enjoy it.

Weekly Gratitude #4: Luckiest Girl in the World

This morning I looked out at the ocean and I felt like luckiest girl in the world.

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I can think of a million reasons why I am not the luckiest girl in the world.  I have definitely had my share of bad luck.

But this morning as I looked out at the ocean, drinking my peppermint bark iced coffee, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Maybe it is because I am still here.   I survived.

Maybe it is because I have an awesome daughter and I enjoy all the time I spend with here.  Even if she does try to push my buttons sometimes.

Maybe it is because I live in such a beautiful place with four very distinct seasons.  I see the cycle of life every year.

Maybe it’s because of the peppermint bark iced coffee.  It is the Christmas Season after all.

For ever reason I can think of that I am unlucky, I can think of another reason for which I am lucky.  It is just about what perspective you choose to take.

 

Survivor’s guilt and forgiveness

I have been on this planet for 41 and a quarter years.

I have had lots of experiences throughout my life.  I have had the opportunity of education in two very different areas of study.  If you told 18-year-old Kerry that she would go back to school in her thirties and take classes such as “Anatomy and Physiology,” “Pharmacology”  and “Pathophysiology”, she probably would have laughed at you.

Though truthfully, 18-year-old Kerry did not know what pathophysiology was, so she would not have had any business laughing at you.

(Pathophysiology is basically the functional changes a body has to an illness.)

I have been lucky to have had met some great people and have traveled to some great places.

I ate some fancy dinners and listened to some very important people talk.

The dinners themselves were not that interesting.  It was almost always some form of chicken.

I have been lucky to have a career and own a home.

And most importantly, I have experienced love within marriage and motherhood.

I know I often lament about how I did not realize how great my life was during those years.

My life was great during those years.  And I should cut myself slack for not appreciating it.

Because that was Before.

Before IT all happened.

Before my life changed forever.

That version of myself stopped existing on March 23, 2016.

But after I lost everything- after I hit my rock bottom- it was impossible not to think about my years with Bryon and regret that I did not make the most of those years.

I took him, our marriage and our love for granted.

And I took our future for granted.  We were supposed to grow old together.

But we all know that life had other plans.  The proverbial curve ball.

True to my Boston-Irish-Catholic upbringing, guilt is one of the few emotions that my upbringing taught me that it was okay to express (anger and restrained amusement are okay too).

The first place my mind went was that Bryon’s death was some sort of punishment.

God was clearly punishing me for something.

Either that or he was punishing my daughter.  She wasn’t even two at that point, so I really don’t think she could have committed an infraction so bad that it would warrant losing her father.

I could write another whole post on my thoughts on God so I will save that for another time.

For another time when I feel like being preached at….

So God, or the Universe, or Whoever is in charge decided that Bryon’s life was over.

And my mind immediately starts searching for any reason that it could have happened.

Because Bryon dying did not make sense.

So I turned inward and figured this must have been some sort of punishment from God for something I did.

Who knows, maybe I did something in a past life to deserve this because I really do try to be a good person.

To this day, I will never understand why Bryon had to die.

I have accepted that I will probably never know that answer.

Maye God is just cruel.

Why do some people get to live long lives and why do some people have to die young?

But one thing I can tell you with all certainty is that survivor’s guilt is real.

I once heard that survivor’s guilt is your psyche’s way of trying to assume control in a situation where you did not have any control.

That makes sense to me.  When Bryon was sick, I never felt so helpless in my life.  All I could do was wait and hope for the best.  Luckily we had visitors but there was a lot of time where I read some fluffy books, said some rosaries and I organized all my pinterest boards.

For years, I beat myself up for taking Bryon for granted.  Maybe if I appreciated him more, he wouldn’t have had to die.

But it wasn’t until recently that I decided to cut “Before Kerry” some slack.

I have suffered from survivors guilt for over three years and I realize that it is time that I have to forgive myself.

There was no way I could have known.

I had a husband who loved me very much.  Sure we could argue.  We were two people who both had Mercury in Leo.  But we loved each other fiercely.

Frankly, there were times Bryon took me for granted too.

Our love and our bond was strong.  There was enough trust for us to be able to take each other for granted.

Isn’t this what life is supposed to be about- taking what we learn from life’s difficult moments and use them to be a better person.

I don’t recommend taking people for granted.

But “Before Kerry” was doing the best she could with what she knew at the time.

Aren’t we all just trying to do our best?

I remember one day just feeling completely beside myself.  Bryon couldn’t speak because he was on a trach.  I remember saying to him, out of complete desperation, that I wish I could have switched places with him.  As if that was even an option.  It wasn’t an option but yet it seemed like the best option.  He just looked at me and shook his head no.

I know he wouldn’t want me to feel this way.

I need to forgive myself so I can move forward.