Update.......
First thank you for being supportive when you didn't even know what was going on. My main reason for having a LJ is to just vent or express feelings or however you want to put it. I do it for ME basically is what I'm saying. But to know that you guys respond because you are concerned about me. That means so much. And I thank you..... ALL of you. I love you guys.
Wednesday was shit. It was really really hard. You see my mother (some may know things about her) she has had a tough life. And she has had a definite run of bad luck. Nothing ever seems to go her way. Then when it does...something fucks it up.
Her boyfriend, fiance or whatever word best describes him - Terry - has had emphysema for a while. And he is far too young, IMO to have it. You think of really older people having it, you know? Well about 2 weeks ago he was hanging sheet rock in the blazing sun (remember we are in FL). He passed out and wouldn't come to. So he was rushed to the E.R. They told us that he had a 2.6 blood alcohol level. If you're not sure .08 is the legal limit. Plus on top of that, he suffered thru a massive heat stroke. When mom & I got there, he was so out of it. It was rather scary. They had to cut his clothes off of course. And the main thing that he had focused on was the fact that they 'CUT HIS SHIRT'. It was almost comical that he was so out of it yet so damned focused on his cut shirt.
I met one of his two sons that day. Sadly that was the first time I had ever met him yet he lives right here in town. Terry and my mom have been together forever. No, they were not married. But they were all but legally married. Plus my mom always has such bad luck with marriages, so in a way I'm glad they had not gotten legally married.
So back on topic, they released him from the E.R. that nyte, and I drove him home. It was all he could do to just keep his eyes open. He kept falling in and out of it. And he would go thru these horrible breathing spells. For some reason when he inhales, his mind won't allow his body to exhale. So he is always having these hard times breathing in and out. Mom sat in the back to give him more room and she kept having to kinda of shake him..."Terry! Terry, wake up!" It was a long drive home.
But we got there and his son that I met, Wesley kept telling him that he has to stop this and that he needs to take a break. Terry bids on jobs (like construction) and then he and other guys do the job, Terry gets paid and then Terry in turn pays the guys that work with him. Well all that was on Terry's mind was that he had to call ______ to pay him. Well that and his cut shirt! He was still upset that they cut his shirt. We of course brought it home in the hospital bag. What is so odd about this, is that he is so NOT a materialistic person. He's a 'good ole boy', a 'redneck' just a hard working man with nothing of value. Not even that cut up shirt. He carried on about the poor shirt for days. He would NOT let momma throw the shirt away. He kept saying that he would 'find something to do with it'.
So that was a few weeks ago. He took it fairly easy but he is stubborn and set in his ways (who isn't right?) so back to work he goes. Well he unfortunately did not get the job that he bid on finished, so he didn't get paid. Which in turn meant that he didn't have the money to pay the guys that worked with him.
Well Tuesday nyte Terry goes home and he had some scratches and bruises. He was pretty banged up. He told mom that he 'got in a fight'. But that was about all that was said. He didn't feel so great so he stayed in bed for the most part of the day. Momma said when he was in the shower, she heard something drop so she went to see what had happened. He had fell in the shower. He was coughing alot. Plus he was coughing up a little blood.
Wednesday morning mom was debating on going to work or not because he still wasn't feeling well. But they need the money so she went ahead and went to work. When she got home from work he was in the bed and she could tell that he had coughed up alot of blood. He was incoherent. She couldn't get him to talk to her, and his pupils were very much dilated. She checked his pulse, which he did have so she tryed to get him to come to. Well after several trys she decided to try to give him CPR. That didn't help so she called 911. The operator tryed walking her thru different CPR techniques. The paramedics get there and there wasn't that much room to get around in the bedroom, so they moved him to the living room. They continued CPR there and nothing happed. He still had a pulse tho. They just couldn't get him to breathe in. They tryed to give him oxygen thru tubes, but there was so much blood clogging his throat that they could not get it to go down. They went ahead and took him to the E.R. My mom called his son, and they went on to the hospital too. On the way she called her mom (my gramma) and told her a brief version to what was happening. She asked her to call me and tell me.
Well I was out already so I and went straight down to the hospital. I found mom and Wesley right away. Momma just started crying right when I grabbed ahold of her to hug her. I kept saying 'It's gonna be alright'. I mean what else DO you say in a situation like that. She said that they were in the middle of a shift change so they couldn't find out anything till 7:30. Ok it was 7:25 then. While we were waiting, we talked a little, and she got really quiet. I said "Mom, you ok?" With tears in her eyes she says, "Well if anything happens to him, at least I will have a peace of mind because the last thing he said to me this morning was 'I Love You'." I just tryed to comfort her by telling her not to talk like that and that she doesn't need to think like that right now.
Well we went back up to the desk, they say 'ok he isnt in the computer just yet give us about 10 more minutes'. THREE more times up to the desk and about an hour and a half later they give us these passes to go in the back where he is at. Well our passes said 'QUIET ROOM' so we have to sit in the little tiny ass waiting room.
After what seemed like an eternity there was 2 doctors and some other guy with a suit on that came in the room where we were. The one guy introduced himself and said that he was the one working on him. He proceeded to tell us what they did. They got his pulse going better. They finally got the oxygen tubes down. There was more CPR, oxygen, and 3 bolts of the electro-shock thing.
In the quiet room it was all those doctors, my mother, Terry's mother, Terry's son Wesley, Terry's aunt, my cousin, and myself. The doctor's weren't even finished talking and my momma started crying. We all just 'KNEW' right there. I grabbed ahold of my mom and started crying right along with her.
His body just couldn't handle anymore. We lost him at 6:58 Wednesday nyte.
Was this real? Was it actually happening? Nah, it couldn't be. I mean come on Terry was a survivor. He fought hard. He was tough. He and mom had such a strong relationship. They had their ups and downs, but all in all they had a relationship! It was such a numb, numb feeling that I can't even try to explain.
Mom half way got a grip long enough to talk, and she said "Can we see him?" The doctors said "Of course you can." They put Terry in a little room by himself and they walked us down. On the way they informed us that he still had the tubes in his mouth because they didn't want us to be alarmed. We said ok, like it was nothing. But when we walked in, I think it took us all for a shock. He looked so bad. Like he had just been thru hell.
****************THIS IS MY DISCLAIMER*****************
THIS IS KINDA GRAPHIC, STOP READING NOW IF
YOU GET OFFENDED OR QUEASY
There was SO much blood lost. There was blood still in the tubes in his mouth. His face had dryed blood all over. There was a puddle on the sheet underneath his head and his hair was just matted down from all the blood. The saddest part was that there was still some fresh blood trickling down his cheek. He must have fought this one hard. But now he couldn't fight it anymore and he was finally at peace.
It was so weird. He hadn't been gone that long, yet his body was so cold. I know that may come to a shock for some. "OMG, she touched him?!?!" Yes, I did touch him. I had to know, ok this IS real.
We were so confused about what happened. There were so many different stories going around. One was the fight. Another was that he tripped over a lamp and hit the wall at someone's house. And another was that he fell off someone's porch. I never thought I would say this but I could hardly WAIT for the results from the autopsy. All I could think was, 'Shit he owes some money, he gets in a fight, he has internal bleeding, he dies.' Hmmm, coincidence? Damn, that weighed on my mind ALL nyte.
Finally the results come back. What happened was he had drank SO much all his life, that his liver failed. It was basically eating away at his stomach lining. That caused the internal bleeding, and his heart just couldn't work fast enough to pump it. His heart finally gave out on him. Not that it was 'good news' but it did ease my mind. That helped to know that getting in that fight had nothing to do with it. Well, I guess. I hope. I don't know I still have this like uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach from thinking about it.
Mom stayed here with us that nyte. She didn't sleep of course, but at least she was here. But I did take her back over there to their house for her to get some clothes for the next day. She kind of didn't want me to come in because of all the blood on the floor. But I just said "I'm a big girl, I'll be ok." Sure enough there was alot of blood in the house. It scared me. Not in a queasy, I'm going to get sick at the sight of blood kinda way. But in a SHIT, dude it's real. It's becoming more and more real. I just sat in the chair and fought back tears. I was just in a daze looking around the room at all their 'things'. I as so saddened. I looked at his smokes on the table, the ashtrays, the loose change, the pieces of scrap paper. Just the simple everyday shit on the coffee table. Then I look down. I look at the floor and in between the chair and the table is the hospital bag from a few weeks ago. And what's in the bag? His cut shirt. I just smiled. I picked it up and when momma walked back in the room, I couldn't take it, I started crying again and opened my mouth to say something. All that would come out was "His shirt...."
I keep thinking to myself: 'Why are you letting this affect you so bad? What is it about this that I can't shake? He wasn't even blood.' I think I got my answer when I found out his obituary is going to list me as a 'step-daughter' because he talked so highly about me and he thought of me as his own. I guess you NEVER really know the impact you leave on someone's life. And in cases like this, it's just sometimes too late. Please if you care at all about what I think....let the people around you know how much you love them.
I decided Thursday after they picked out the casket and everything, that I wanted to do something. I said I know I don't have a say in anything, but I'd like to put the cut shirt in the casket with him. He wouldn't let anyone mess with the shirt, and apparently it must have meant something to him by the way he acted. Now he will always have it. Silly as it may sound, it's something I wanted done.
One thing about Terry, he was a laid back jeans, shirt and skull cap kinda guy. He did not care for suits or dressy clothes at all. So the family decided to let him spend his eternity in 'Terry clothes'. I was glad to hear that. He would not have looked right in a suit. His love for Harley's paid off with a BEAUTIFUL black and chrome casket. I want to share pictures of him that I took tonyte.
This is my second
*****************DISCLAIMER:*****************
THESE ARE PICTURES OF TERRY IN A CASKET. DO NOT CLICK IF YOU CAN'T
HANDLE IT OR DON'T WANT TO SEE A DEAD PERSON. I WONT TAKE OFFENSE.
These are the flowers I got him:
Here is Terry. He served in the U.S. Army
Wednesday was shit. It was really really hard. You see my mother (some may know things about her) she has had a tough life. And she has had a definite run of bad luck. Nothing ever seems to go her way. Then when it does...something fucks it up.
Her boyfriend, fiance or whatever word best describes him - Terry - has had emphysema for a while. And he is far too young, IMO to have it. You think of really older people having it, you know? Well about 2 weeks ago he was hanging sheet rock in the blazing sun (remember we are in FL). He passed out and wouldn't come to. So he was rushed to the E.R. They told us that he had a 2.6 blood alcohol level. If you're not sure .08 is the legal limit. Plus on top of that, he suffered thru a massive heat stroke. When mom & I got there, he was so out of it. It was rather scary. They had to cut his clothes off of course. And the main thing that he had focused on was the fact that they 'CUT HIS SHIRT'. It was almost comical that he was so out of it yet so damned focused on his cut shirt.
I met one of his two sons that day. Sadly that was the first time I had ever met him yet he lives right here in town. Terry and my mom have been together forever. No, they were not married. But they were all but legally married. Plus my mom always has such bad luck with marriages, so in a way I'm glad they had not gotten legally married.
So back on topic, they released him from the E.R. that nyte, and I drove him home. It was all he could do to just keep his eyes open. He kept falling in and out of it. And he would go thru these horrible breathing spells. For some reason when he inhales, his mind won't allow his body to exhale. So he is always having these hard times breathing in and out. Mom sat in the back to give him more room and she kept having to kinda of shake him..."Terry! Terry, wake up!" It was a long drive home.
But we got there and his son that I met, Wesley kept telling him that he has to stop this and that he needs to take a break. Terry bids on jobs (like construction) and then he and other guys do the job, Terry gets paid and then Terry in turn pays the guys that work with him. Well all that was on Terry's mind was that he had to call ______ to pay him. Well that and his cut shirt! He was still upset that they cut his shirt. We of course brought it home in the hospital bag. What is so odd about this, is that he is so NOT a materialistic person. He's a 'good ole boy', a 'redneck' just a hard working man with nothing of value. Not even that cut up shirt. He carried on about the poor shirt for days. He would NOT let momma throw the shirt away. He kept saying that he would 'find something to do with it'.
So that was a few weeks ago. He took it fairly easy but he is stubborn and set in his ways (who isn't right?) so back to work he goes. Well he unfortunately did not get the job that he bid on finished, so he didn't get paid. Which in turn meant that he didn't have the money to pay the guys that worked with him.
Well Tuesday nyte Terry goes home and he had some scratches and bruises. He was pretty banged up. He told mom that he 'got in a fight'. But that was about all that was said. He didn't feel so great so he stayed in bed for the most part of the day. Momma said when he was in the shower, she heard something drop so she went to see what had happened. He had fell in the shower. He was coughing alot. Plus he was coughing up a little blood.
Wednesday morning mom was debating on going to work or not because he still wasn't feeling well. But they need the money so she went ahead and went to work. When she got home from work he was in the bed and she could tell that he had coughed up alot of blood. He was incoherent. She couldn't get him to talk to her, and his pupils were very much dilated. She checked his pulse, which he did have so she tryed to get him to come to. Well after several trys she decided to try to give him CPR. That didn't help so she called 911. The operator tryed walking her thru different CPR techniques. The paramedics get there and there wasn't that much room to get around in the bedroom, so they moved him to the living room. They continued CPR there and nothing happed. He still had a pulse tho. They just couldn't get him to breathe in. They tryed to give him oxygen thru tubes, but there was so much blood clogging his throat that they could not get it to go down. They went ahead and took him to the E.R. My mom called his son, and they went on to the hospital too. On the way she called her mom (my gramma) and told her a brief version to what was happening. She asked her to call me and tell me.
Well I was out already so I and went straight down to the hospital. I found mom and Wesley right away. Momma just started crying right when I grabbed ahold of her to hug her. I kept saying 'It's gonna be alright'. I mean what else DO you say in a situation like that. She said that they were in the middle of a shift change so they couldn't find out anything till 7:30. Ok it was 7:25 then. While we were waiting, we talked a little, and she got really quiet. I said "Mom, you ok?" With tears in her eyes she says, "Well if anything happens to him, at least I will have a peace of mind because the last thing he said to me this morning was 'I Love You'." I just tryed to comfort her by telling her not to talk like that and that she doesn't need to think like that right now.
Well we went back up to the desk, they say 'ok he isnt in the computer just yet give us about 10 more minutes'. THREE more times up to the desk and about an hour and a half later they give us these passes to go in the back where he is at. Well our passes said 'QUIET ROOM' so we have to sit in the little tiny ass waiting room.
After what seemed like an eternity there was 2 doctors and some other guy with a suit on that came in the room where we were. The one guy introduced himself and said that he was the one working on him. He proceeded to tell us what they did. They got his pulse going better. They finally got the oxygen tubes down. There was more CPR, oxygen, and 3 bolts of the electro-shock thing.
In the quiet room it was all those doctors, my mother, Terry's mother, Terry's son Wesley, Terry's aunt, my cousin, and myself. The doctor's weren't even finished talking and my momma started crying. We all just 'KNEW' right there. I grabbed ahold of my mom and started crying right along with her.
His body just couldn't handle anymore. We lost him at 6:58 Wednesday nyte.
Was this real? Was it actually happening? Nah, it couldn't be. I mean come on Terry was a survivor. He fought hard. He was tough. He and mom had such a strong relationship. They had their ups and downs, but all in all they had a relationship! It was such a numb, numb feeling that I can't even try to explain.
Mom half way got a grip long enough to talk, and she said "Can we see him?" The doctors said "Of course you can." They put Terry in a little room by himself and they walked us down. On the way they informed us that he still had the tubes in his mouth because they didn't want us to be alarmed. We said ok, like it was nothing. But when we walked in, I think it took us all for a shock. He looked so bad. Like he had just been thru hell.
****************THIS IS MY DISCLAIMER*****************
THIS IS KINDA GRAPHIC, STOP READING NOW IF
YOU GET OFFENDED OR QUEASY
There was SO much blood lost. There was blood still in the tubes in his mouth. His face had dryed blood all over. There was a puddle on the sheet underneath his head and his hair was just matted down from all the blood. The saddest part was that there was still some fresh blood trickling down his cheek. He must have fought this one hard. But now he couldn't fight it anymore and he was finally at peace.
It was so weird. He hadn't been gone that long, yet his body was so cold. I know that may come to a shock for some. "OMG, she touched him?!?!" Yes, I did touch him. I had to know, ok this IS real.
We were so confused about what happened. There were so many different stories going around. One was the fight. Another was that he tripped over a lamp and hit the wall at someone's house. And another was that he fell off someone's porch. I never thought I would say this but I could hardly WAIT for the results from the autopsy. All I could think was, 'Shit he owes some money, he gets in a fight, he has internal bleeding, he dies.' Hmmm, coincidence? Damn, that weighed on my mind ALL nyte.
Finally the results come back. What happened was he had drank SO much all his life, that his liver failed. It was basically eating away at his stomach lining. That caused the internal bleeding, and his heart just couldn't work fast enough to pump it. His heart finally gave out on him. Not that it was 'good news' but it did ease my mind. That helped to know that getting in that fight had nothing to do with it. Well, I guess. I hope. I don't know I still have this like uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach from thinking about it.
Mom stayed here with us that nyte. She didn't sleep of course, but at least she was here. But I did take her back over there to their house for her to get some clothes for the next day. She kind of didn't want me to come in because of all the blood on the floor. But I just said "I'm a big girl, I'll be ok." Sure enough there was alot of blood in the house. It scared me. Not in a queasy, I'm going to get sick at the sight of blood kinda way. But in a SHIT, dude it's real. It's becoming more and more real. I just sat in the chair and fought back tears. I was just in a daze looking around the room at all their 'things'. I as so saddened. I looked at his smokes on the table, the ashtrays, the loose change, the pieces of scrap paper. Just the simple everyday shit on the coffee table. Then I look down. I look at the floor and in between the chair and the table is the hospital bag from a few weeks ago. And what's in the bag? His cut shirt. I just smiled. I picked it up and when momma walked back in the room, I couldn't take it, I started crying again and opened my mouth to say something. All that would come out was "His shirt...."
I keep thinking to myself: 'Why are you letting this affect you so bad? What is it about this that I can't shake? He wasn't even blood.' I think I got my answer when I found out his obituary is going to list me as a 'step-daughter' because he talked so highly about me and he thought of me as his own. I guess you NEVER really know the impact you leave on someone's life. And in cases like this, it's just sometimes too late. Please if you care at all about what I think....let the people around you know how much you love them.
I decided Thursday after they picked out the casket and everything, that I wanted to do something. I said I know I don't have a say in anything, but I'd like to put the cut shirt in the casket with him. He wouldn't let anyone mess with the shirt, and apparently it must have meant something to him by the way he acted. Now he will always have it. Silly as it may sound, it's something I wanted done.
One thing about Terry, he was a laid back jeans, shirt and skull cap kinda guy. He did not care for suits or dressy clothes at all. So the family decided to let him spend his eternity in 'Terry clothes'. I was glad to hear that. He would not have looked right in a suit. His love for Harley's paid off with a BEAUTIFUL black and chrome casket. I want to share pictures of him that I took tonyte.
This is my second
*****************DISCLAIMER:*****************
THESE ARE PICTURES OF TERRY IN A CASKET. DO NOT CLICK IF YOU CAN'T
HANDLE IT OR DON'T WANT TO SEE A DEAD PERSON. I WONT TAKE OFFENSE.
These are the flowers I got him:
Here is Terry. He served in the U.S. Army