Life Can Change in an Instant
On the morning of February 24th, our world shifted without warning. What began as a peaceful start to the day became one of the most frightening experiences of our lives when Ray suffered his first seizure in 58 years. I suppose I should say MY life here as Ray has absolutely no recollection of the frightening event or the weeks that followed! I view that as another one of the many blessings that came during this time.
After calling 911, eight first responder firemen and paramedics quickly filled our bedroom, working with focused determination to protect his airway and prevent aspiration. Their swift, skilled response began a chain of extraordinary medical care that would continue for days.
In the early moments of the emergency, I had asked the paramedics to take Ray to the hospital was most convenient for us—parking, visiting—and they have an exceptional Neurosurgical ICU. After several minutes of trying unsuccessfully to control his seizures, one of the firemen came running back to me with urgency in his voice. They needed to take him to a Level-1 trauma center. Of course, I immediately agreed. I knew what that meant. The trauma center, though part of the same hospital system, was the larger facility, equipped for the most critical of situations. In that moment, there was no hesitation. We needed the highest level of care available.
I followed the ambulance to the hospital, parked and arrived as the ER team was already deep into treating him. I sat in the waiting room, trying to appear calm while internally I was anything but. After 30 years of marriage and with my own background as a nurse, I knew there were important pieces of Ray’s medical history that could make a difference to those providing his care. I kept repeating to anyone who would listen, “I am a wealth of knowledge about his medical history. I need to share this with his team.” I’m sure to them I sounded like every other anxious spouse in an ER waiting room. But Ray’s story is complicated. There is so much about him that isn’t obvious on a chart.
As I waited, I asked for updates every half hour, only to hear the same response — they were still working on him and that I would be able to see him soon. During that time, I kept hearing overhead pages calling more and more specialists to “Major 2.” After several announcements, a quiet realization began to settle in. I had once worked in that very ER, in Major Treatment. I knew the level of urgency those pages represented. Seizures alone typically would not require that kind of escalating response. I convinced myself Ray wasn’t in that room.
But when I was finally escorted back and saw the sign on the door, “Major 2.” Oh my gosh, my heart sank. When the door opened, I was met with the most frightening sight I have ever experienced. Ray was intubated, on a ventilator and completely unresponsive. In that instant, the full gravity of what was happening became real in a way nothing could have prepared me for. The doctor immediately joined me at Ray’s bedside and explained that the seizures would not stop. To protect his brain, the doctors had to intubate him and place him into a medically induced coma.
As a former ER and Trauma OR nurse, I spent years understanding medical emergencies from a clinical perspective. But when you’re not expecting it and the love of your life is lying helpless in front of you, it’s something entirely different. No amount of training prepares you for the helplessness of watching your soulmate connected to machines, breathing through a ventilator and fighting for stability. It was, without question, the most terrifying experience of my life. Much later in the day (evening hours actually), Ray was admitted to the Neuro ICU, where he remained for six days.
Adding to the shock was the discovery that this life-threatening episode was linked to a medication Ray first began taking in 2019. Processing how something so distant in time could lead to such a sudden crisis has been incredibly difficult. As well, due to the intubation and possibly aspirating, Ray developed a wicked case of pneumonia. (As though his body needed one more thing to have to fight!)
Because of the tireless dedication of an exceptional medical team, including his Internal Medicine doc, ER & ICU physicians and nurses, ICU specialists (both Neuro ICU and Medical ICU), respiratory therapists, radiology staff, Progressive Care caregivers and the devoted 9T team, Ray is now home. Their expertise, compassion and persistence quite literally saved his life.
Ray was discharged home in a wonderful program, Hospital at Home, where nurses, paramedics, respiratory therapists, physical therapists and other disciplines visited our home multiple times daily. He had virtual doctor visits twice each day and could not have been given better care if he were in the hospital. This program is a godsend and we highly recommend it. Recovery at home is ALWAYS better than in the hospital.
Recovery is ongoing. There are still deficits and uncertainties. Some days are harder than others. But there is also progress. There is hope. And there is deep gratitude for every small step forward.
This experience has reminded me how fragile life can be—and how powerful love, resilience and exceptional care truly are. We are moving forward together… one day at a time.
Through all of this, we have been surrounded by the most incredible love and support from our family and friends. The calls, messages, prayers, visits and constant encouragement have meant more than we can ever fully express.
Ray’s sister and brother spent the first week with me—day and night—in the ICU with me. His brother even returned to stay with us for a few days after we got home.
Through all of this, our ActiveRain family wrapped us in a level of love and support that is truly hard to put into words. The constant prayers, messages, check-ins, thoughtful gestures and the sweetest surprise gifts have meant more than Ray and I could ever fully express. When you spend years building relationships online, you never quite imagine how real and powerful those connections will feel in a moment of crisis, but we have felt every ounce of that love.
In moments like these, you truly realize how blessed you are to have such an amazing circle lifting you—and your soul mate—up when you need it the most. Your kindness has carried us through some very long days and even longer nights. Please know that every prayer, every note and every act of love has touched our hearts in ways we will never forget.
Since I'm not able to be there... I'm sending you this "comfort cat". Just something to squeeze.
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