8 Middle Adulthood 223I should come home right away. Then, I knew in my gut that my Dad had died,
even though he was in good health—and I was right. I commented to Rosalie
during the ride that I felt the same way now. When we got to the hospital we
went to the trauma unit waiting room. When I arrived, the hospital staff was
very kind and helpful. They let Jack’s coworkers and Tara and Rosalie stay
with me in the trauma waiting room.
The Sunday night before the accident, Jack had an argument with a driver
on the pier. Jack was so angry that he left work early that day, something that
he had never done before. In the waiting room I said to his coworker, “Please
don’t tell me it was the same driver that he had the argument with on Sunday.”
He looked down and said it was the same driver, but that it was nothing to
worry about—that it was an accident, and that on the waterfront they do not
hold grudges. I cried the whole time. Tara tried to calm me but I just could not
hold it in. I just knew the outcome was going to be horrible.
I continued to make phone calls to my sister, close friends, and to Jack’s
family, from whom he was estranged. I knew both his parents had previously
had heart attacks, so I called Jack’s siblings because I did not want them to
hear the news over the phone; I wanted someone with them when they heard
the news. Looking back, it is hard to believe how much I attended to others’
needs in all of this and not really my own.
Around noon, the surgeon came into the room to talk to us. She sat
down across from me and very methodically gave me the details from Jack’s
arrival to the present. Apparently his heart stopped in the ambulance. They
were able to start his heart again and got him to the OR. The machine crushed
his upper legs so he was losing a great deal of blood. The surgeon said she
continued to suture the veins and arteries as she worked her way up to his
abdomen. Again his heart stopped, so she opened his chest and got the heart
going again. As she opened up his abdomen to continue to work on him, all
of the blood and fluids poured out. Apparently his aorta was severed and
there was nothing more she could do to save him. She told me based on the
injuries that he would have gone into shock right away and would not have
felt any pain, which gave me some comfort. She offered her condolences and
told me how sorry she was that she could not save him. I understood why
she told me the whole story before she informed me that he was dead. If she
had started with the outcome first I would not have heard or comprehended
another word she said. However, the way she gave the details to us—it still
gave hope. I am really not sure which would have been easier, probably nei-
ther. She told me they would clean him up so I could say good-bye. I wept
uncontrollably when she told me he was dead. Tara kept her arms around
me the whole time.
While we were waiting, a woman from the chaplain’s office came in to
see if I wanted to pray. She asked me if I practiced a specific religion, to which
I responded no but that I considered myself a spiritual person. (Jack claimed
to be atheist but I never quite believed him. I am agnostic.) Upon hearing that
I considered myself a spiritual person she started saying things about the Great
Spirit, and holding her hands up in the air like she was a medicine man in an old
Western movie. I really could not believe the things she was saying and doing.
She never asked me what I wanted or if I even wanted her in the room. I just
wanted her to leave. There I was in the worst moment of my life dealing with