Friday, March 1, 1996:
The day started out normally. I got up around 5:20 a.m. and went to the fitness center for my workout. I got
back home about 7:30 a.m. Annette and Michael were still asleep, but they awoke while I was getting ready for
work. We had a nice visit, short as it was, then I left around 8:30 a.m.
Annette called me several times during the day. She said her migraine was still with her. She took another
half tablet of Imitrex around late morning. I missed her mid-afternoon call, but Annette left a message on my voice
mail around 2:00 p.m. She said Michael was in bed and she was going to go to sleep. I found out from her that
evening that this was when she took her second half tablet of Imitrex.
Late that afternoon Annette called again. She said she was feeling better.
I arrived home from work around 6:10 p.m. that evening.
We gave Michael dinner around 7:00 p.m. We needed to pick up some milk and I needed to get some computer diskettes
from Best Buy. We left around 7:30 p.m. We stopped at Best Buy first. We looked at a number of music CD's
they had on display up near the front. I bought three classical CDs, with the idea they would be good for Michael to
play when he got older. I think Annette thought I was planning maybe just a little too far in the future, but her
attitude told me she thought it was cute that I loved our son so much. Annette looked over all the children's music
again, but found nothing new she felt was worth buying. She was always checking for new music that would be good for
Michael.
We shopped and browsed until around 8:30 p.m. Annette offered to check out while Michael went for a walk with his
"Daddy" over to Hy Vee for milk.
Michael and I walked across the large empty space between Best Buy and Hy Vee. I remember noticing how cold and
brisk the March night wind was. We got the milk and got back to our car before Annette got through the checkout line.
Annette was in good spirits when she got in the car. Once more, she impressed me with how alert and observant she
always was. In the dark of the car on a cold March night, she immediately noticed that Michael had a tear running
down his right cheek from the cold wind. I hadn't spotted it. I remember thinking what a wonderful mother
Annette was as she spoke softly and lovingly to Michael; "Oh, Mikey, you have tears in your eyes from the wind! Mommy
will fix it for you." Carefully and tenderly, she wiped the tear from his cheek.
About this time, we realized that we needed something else from Hy Vee. I offered to go get it, but Annette wanted
to go herself. She said she could use a short walk to stretch her legs.
We got home around 8:45 p.m. and put Michael to bed right away. We sat down to watch a little TV. We were
sad to see that we had missed most of a tribute to the Russian pairs ice skater who had died suddenly of a heart attack
just a month earlier. Annette and I love ice-skating. We watched the last fifteen minutes of the show.
In looking back, I see another one of those ironic twists of fate we mortals are forced to
suffer. The last TV Annette and I watched together was about another young couple with a little child who were deeply
in love; whose lives were also devastated by the sudden death of one of the parents,
just like us!
We got to bed around midnight.
Saturday, March 2, 1996:
Annette let me sleep late. I awoke about 8:30. She said Michael got up around 8:00. As I was getting
up, Annette told me she still had her migraine, and that she awoke around 5 a.m. with a horrible headache.
There was a special moment that final Saturday morning. I believe it was around 10:15 a.m. I was standing by
my side of the bed, near my closet. Annette was lying down on the bed, almost exactly like she did later when she
died. She was looking at me from behind. We were talking about how beautiful and bright Michael was. I
said to her, "I have to believe it (how smart Michael is) has to be environmental." Annette said, "Was that a
compliment I just heard 'slide' by me?" I laughed and said, "Yes, Honey, you are a wonderful Mommy to
Michael. You are the best Mommy he could ever have! He's so lucky to have you!" I bent over and kissed
her on her forehead. Annette just beamed from ear to ear. Even though I had told her this many times before,
for some reason, this time, it seemed to mean so very much to her.
We got busy with Michael and the normal Saturday morning things.
Annette was going to take another half of an Imitrex tablet. Never before had Annette needed Imitrex more than two
days straight, and I was worried about the effects of a third day on her. I insisted she wait until we spoke with the
doctor's office. I knew how strong that tablet was. Annette placed the original call to the doctor's office
between 10:30 and 10:45. They said they would check and call us back before they left at noon. I remember how
worried I was that they might forget to return the call and we wouldn't know if it was safe for her to take another
dose. I didn't want Annette to suffer from her migraine any longer than necessary.
In the meantime, we took Michael downstairs and had breakfast. For some reason, I decided to cook a nice breakfast
of bacon and eggs, something I usually reserve for Sunday mornings. Annette had two slices of bacon and two scrambled
eggs, which she shared with Michael. He had about half an egg, so she ended up with about 11/2 scrambled
eggs. She also had a bowl of cereal. It was probably Kelloggs' Product 19, General Mills' Wheaties, or
Cheerios. Of course, she also had her favorite drink, 2% milk with a Carnation Strawberry Instant Breakfast. We
had a nice family breakfast together, finishing about 11:20.
At that time, I suggested that Annette call the doctor's office back, but she said she was sure they would remember.
At this point, I believe a brief description of our home will help you understand some of the
events that followed:
Our home is a split-level, with the kitchen/dinette area overlooking our family room. The main level has the
kitchen, dinette, dining room, living room, and front entrance. The front entrance is just 10 feet from the upstairs
steps. The bedrooms are on the upper level.
I went down to our computer, located in the family room by the dinette wall. I turned it on and began doing some
work. Annette played a little with Michael up in the kitchen area.
A few minutes later we went upstairs again. We talked about some of our upcoming plans. Annette had so many
wonderful plans made for the three of us. She was excited about spring coming and Michael being old enough to really
enjoy it with us. I was about to change jobs, and Annette was concerned about the health insurance coverage. She
suggested that I keep our old insurance under Cobra until our new policy took effect, in case it had a waiting period for
any pre-existing conditions.
The doctor's office called us back. Our caller-id showed their return call was made at exactly 12:05 p.m. The
assistant at Doctor McNamara's office told us it was OK to take Imitrex a third day. She said that, according to Glaxo
Wellcome, the drug company that makes Imitrex, you could even take it for a fourth day, if necessary. Our conversation
lasted about three to five minutes. I told Annette what the assistant said. She didn't waste time taking the
pill. She took half of another 50 mg. Imitrex tablet at approximately 12:15 p.m.
I checked Annette's Imitrex bottle after she died and found the other half tablet. It
didn't break precisely in half. The remaining piece indicates that Annette took between 27 and 28 mg.
The three of us went down to the family room. I made it fairly dark and quiet for Annette. She always needed
it that way after taking Imitrex until the effects of the medicine took hold. Annette was lying down on the sofa,
covered with a blanket. I was finally getting some much-needed work done on the computer. Michael was playing
between the computer and the TV. I wanted her to stay downstairs with us while she rested.
After a short time, Annette said she really needed to go upstairs, where it was dark and quiet. I told her I could
make it even better here, as I never really liked her to rest far from me after taking Imitrex. Annette said we just
couldn't make it quiet enough with Michael playing, and she would be OK. I yielded because she seemed so confident,
and she had been OK the other times she took Imitrex.
Annette put the Gymboree video in for Michael. She said she didn't want him to disrupt my work too much while she
slept, and because he looked like he was going to need his nap soon. I will always remember how lovingly and gently
she tucked little Michael into my recliner with his favorite fringed blanket (one of Annette's), kissed him, and said she
would see us later. She stopped on the steps and reminded me to be sure to awaken her no later than two hours from
now because we were going to see her 97-year-old grandmother at the Florence Home. I assured her I wouldn't forget,
and watched her go upstairs. She seemed perfectly OK.
Annette went upstairs around 12:45 p.m., and that may have been the last time I saw our precious Annette alive.
Annette knew our son so well. Within 10 to 15 minutes, he had fallen sound asleep in my chair. I gave him
maybe 15 to 20 minutes more, then I gently took him upstairs, and put him to bed. The closest that I can place the
time is between 12:55 and 1:35 p.m.
This was the first time I checked on Annette.
At first I was surprised to see the door shut, then I remembered that she had done this before after she took Imitrex to
keep out noise and light. I quietly opened the door and went in to see if she was OK. Of course, I didn't check
to see if she was breathing, as I never expected what was to come! Annette had lain down on our bed lengthwise,
across the foot of the bed, nearest the sliding glass door to our balcony. She did this often when she wanted some
rest.
I remember noticing how neatly her favorite Indian blanket was covering her. This was unusual, since she usually
moved enough to disturb it while she slept. I would always gently tuck her back in again. I also noticed that
her favorite big teddy bear was gently resting against her face. This was a common practice of Annette's when she
wanted to keep the light out of her eyes. I remember noting that it wasn't covering her mouth or nose enough to
interfere with her breathing.
Fluff, our Netherlands Dwarf rabbit, was frantically scrabbling at the door to his home, which is on the floor by our
balcony door, only four feet from Annette's head.
Fluff's hearing is so acute that he responded to Michael's heartbeat inside Annette while she was still carrying him
before his birth!
I thought he wanted some attention, but now I wonder if Annette was already in trouble and Fluff, with his sensitive
ears, knew it, and was trying to tell me something was wrong. I knelt down, petted him, and talked softly for a
moment. I remember thinking that Annette must be sleeping very deeply, as she never moved, which was
unusual. Whenever she took Imitrex, however, she fell into a deep sleep and was almost impossible to arouse for the
next two hours or so. I got up, looked at her again, and left, gently shutting the door behind me.
I don't remember exactly when I checked on Annette again. I do know that it was sometime between 1:00 p.m. and
2:00 p.m., when Michael stirred in his nap and called out for "Mommy", as he did so often.
I opened the door quietly and checked on her again. I remember being surprised. I had figured I would need
to go in and cover her up again, but she was still covered perfectly and her teddy bear was still over her face!
Note: I keep my computer's System Time set to my watch daily, and I keep my
watch set to CHU time (Canada's equivalent to the U.S. National Institute of Standards). I never let my watch vary by
more than 3 seconds from CHU time, and the computer stays within half a minute a day. I had already set the computer
that morning, so its clock was very close to the exact time.
By using times supplied by the 911 center, the fire department, and from timestamps on files I saved on the computer
that day, I have been able to narrow down most of the following events to the exact minute of occurrence.
Michael awoke between 2:37-2:38 p.m. We always liked to give him a few minutes before going upstairs, in case he
goes right back to sleep. I saved the photograph I was retouching on the computer at 2:40 p.m. I went upstairs
and found Michael wide-awake, so I got him up. I looked at my watch and remember thinking that Annette had slept
almost exactly the two hours she asked for. I knew I needed to get her up now, because we were going to see her
grandma. Annette had been concerned that we would run into "Grandma Kate's" dinner hour if we left too late.
I asked Michael if he would like to wake Mommy up. Of course, he said, "Yes!" This was a big thing for him
to go over to her head, "jump" up (be lifted up) to her, and give her a big hug.
Michael fairly ran around the bed and planted himself as close to her face as he could get. I thought Annette was
waiting for me to take her teddy bear off her face so she could greet us with a smile and a twinkle in her eyes, something
she had done before.
Two thoughts came to my mind when we entered the room.
First, I noticed it seemed quite cold when we opened the bedroom door. It was a March day and a strong
northwesterly wind was blowing against that side of the house. At first I thought, "Oh, Annette will be very cold and
she will need the heat turned up as soon as she's up." Then I thought, "I wonder why she hasn't moved or asked me to
turn it up already?" That was very unusual for Annette, because it took very little to chill her slender body, and
she always needed the heat turned up higher than I liked.
The next few moments are indelibly etched in my mind and I will be forced to
carry the memory of them to my grave!
I took the teddy bear off Annette's face, and received absolutely the most horrible shock of my life!
I will never forget the look on her face. Annette's mouth was opened wide and her eyes were staring. The
impression that I and, I am sure, Michael got from that look was one of extreme terror
and crying out for help. I also remember distinctly that her eyes were turned up and to her right, which, from the
way she was lying, gave me the feeling that Annette was looking right at me.
Also, something seemed terribly wrong with her eyes. It took me one to two seconds before I comprehended what I
was seeing. Annette's beautiful blue eyes were drying out and becoming wrinkled, and her pupils were extremely
dilated!
With a devastating shock, I realized that my beloved wife was dead!!!
I found out later that Annette must have been dead somewhere between 20 minutes and an hour
before we found her.
You know, something unusual happens when you see something that your mind cannot accept. Your thoughts seem to
split and take two separate paths at the same time. The intellectual side of my mind knew at once that Annette was
beyond any possibility of revival. Her eyes and the feel of her body when I touched her proved that. But the
emotional side of my mind (my love for her) could not accept that, and screamed,
"Help her!!! Do whatever it takes to revive her!!!"
I have been certified and re-certified for both CPR and First Aid for over fifteen years, with the most recent
certification just that last December, two and a half months earlier. I immediately rolled her over and gave two
quick breaths.
I pulled up her shirt to begin the chest compressions.
"OH MY GOD, HONEY, WHAT'S HAPPENED TO YOU!", I exclaimed.
There, along her left side, was a horrible purpling that looked like a massive bruise! With a shock, I realized
that I was seeing Livor Mortis (the pooling of blood in the lowest part of the body after death) for the first time in my
life!
I was not about to let this stop me. I attempted to give chest compressions, but, as they had said so many times in
CPR class, she just bounced on the bed...I mean really bounced.
I quickly grabbed Annette under her shoulders, protected her head, and pulled her to the floor, none too
gently. This is what you are taught in CPR training. Just protect the head. The rest doesn't matter,
because it is so important to get the blood and oxygen flowing as fast as possible. If necessary, bruises, abrasions
or even broken bones are acceptable.
I remember vividly the look on Michael's face when he first saw Annette, and the look he gave me when I pulled her down
to the floor. He stood there and stared with a look of shock that must have equaled what mine was when we first saw
her face. Then, when I pulled her down, he had a look of extreme surprise, concern, and confusion. This look
gradually changed to one look of fear and panic. Michael had started walking back around the bed when I pulled
Annette down to the floor. He took two steps back and then froze in his tracks. I don't believe he moved again
during the next eight or nine minutes, not even when I ran downstairs to get the phone.
Once Annette was on the floor, I gave her two more breaths and, I believe, either five or ten chest compressions. I
then sprinted down the steps to the planning desk, grabbed the phone and dialed 911.
I have to admit that I was very emotional, shouting and crying something like, "Annette, Oh
NO! Honey, Oh PLEASE, NO!...Oh, MY GOD!!! Oh, MY GOD!!! NO!!!" I continued talking like
this in between breaths while working on her.
Everyone who knows me well knows that I am one of those people who stay calm and calculated in an emergency. I do
whatever must to be done, waiting until the crisis is over before letting the shock and emotions set it. Well,
this day I still did what had to be done, but the shock and emotions were already there. Even while I was working on
Annette and talking to 911, I was falling apart emotionally and having a lot of trouble keeping myself from "losing
it". Never before have I had this kind of emotional reaction during an emergency. I think it was different this
time because, deep inside, I knew that I had lost Annette, and no amount of CPR or other emergency measures could
bring her back.
As soon as I dialed 911, I realized my mistake in trying to use the wall phone. I needed our portable phone so I
could get back upstairs. My mind had kicked into "overdrive" like it has always done in emergencies. I
remembered immediately that the portable phone was behind me on the dinette table. At almost the same instant, I
realized that I should leave the wall phone off the hook so the 911 call I had already placed could continue ringing
through. This would be faster than hanging up and redialing.
I set the handset down (or, more accurately, I dropped it), spun, and grabbed the portable. I sprinted back up the
steps, jabbing the portable phone's "On" button at the same time. Just as I reached Annette and knelt back down, I
heard "911, Omaha" come over the phone. For two seconds my mind stuck and I couldn't even think of what to say, then
it cleared and I blurted out something like; "Emergency, we need a rescue! No pulse, no
respiration. I'm giving CPR. Please hurry!"
Note: I obtained a tape of that call from our 911 center to help Michael
understand what he saw when he is older and asks about it. This tape helped me track the next events
accurately.
After giving the 911 center the necessary information, I hung up and continued CPR on Annette. About a minute
later, I began having doubts whether or not I was giving the chest compressions correctly. I decided I needed to get
advice, in case I was so upset that I was doing it wrong. I grabbed the phone and jammed the "On" button
again. NOTHING! With a start, I realized I had left the phone off the hook downstairs. I was never
so glad in my life that I have continued running 10K races over the years. I sprinted down the steps a second time,
slammed the wall phone into its cradle, then sprinted upstairs again. Elapsed time was no more than 8 to 9
seconds!
I resumed CPR, then called 911 back. When the operator answered, I just shouted out; "I'm not sure I'm doing the
CPR right. Where am I supposed to put my hands on her?" His answer was wonderfully simple,
"RIGHT BETWEEN HER NIPPLES!!!" I felt so relieved. My hands had been almost
exactly where they were supposed to be. I was so glad I had been doing it correctly.
This time I kept 911 on the phone. I would talk to him while giving chest compressions, throw the phone down to
give two breaths, then jerk the phone back, cradle it between my head and shoulder, and start talking again during the next
15 compressions.
At one point he said, "Slow down, you're going too fast! I forced myself to slow down a
little.
It's amazing how time seems to slow and your mind seems to race when your adrenaline is pumping full speed, as it was for
me that day. Dozens of thoughts raced through my mind while I was trying so very hard to save our precious Annette!
I remembered my CPR classes and something that I had brought up with the
instructors. I had successfully given rescue breathing to someone about four years ago. I had told them
something I had learned from that experience. In a real emergency, everyone wants to give the breaths and chest
compressions too fast. The instructors had replied that it's OK, because using a rate that's too fast won't really
hurt, but going too slow might.
The Paramedics told me later that the call came in at 2:45 p.m. They reached our house at 2:52 p.m., seven minutes
later. Since I started CPR about 30 seconds to a minute before I placed the call, I know that I found Annette at 2:44
p.m., and that I gave her CPR for at least eight minutes.
Note: A later review of the 911 tape showed that I was on the phone with them for 8 minutes
and 20 seconds.
It must have been my deep love for Annette that carried me through this, because there are few
things in this life that are more intimate as CPR, which includes "Rescue Breathing," also known as
"Mouth-to-Mouth." Otherwise, I would never have been
able to give this to someone who had obviously been dead for more than 20
minutes! Sight, sound,
touch...even
smell and
taste!!!
Well, I will say no more. I am sure that the worst you can imagine may almost equal
what it was really like!
I told the 911 operator that I needed to unbolt our front door for the rescue personnel. He said to keep giving CPR
and wait until he told me they were there.
I heard the sirens approaching. After what seemed an eternity he finally said, "Go let them in now." I
stopped CPR, sprinted down the stairs, yanking my keys from my pocket as I ran, and let them in.
I told them she was upstairs and sprinted back to her. They came right behind me, although not as fast, their medic
box slowing them somewhat. Altogether, I think CPR was stopped for no more than 20 to 30 seconds before they took
over.
Poor little Michael was standing right by his Mommy's head, watching all this unfold before him! I couldn't stop
CPR and move him while we were by ourselves. After the paramedics arrived, I grabbed Michael and put him over by
Annette's dresser, closer to the bedroom door. A few seconds later, they asked me to move our rabbit's home so they
could work. I grabbed Fluff's cage and rushed him out of the room. Little Michael tried to move out of the way,
but he turned back to look just as I was going by, and I accidentally knocked him down with the cage. I picked him
back up, told him I was sorry, put one hand on his head, then rushed into the den with Fluff. I came back, made sure
Michael was all right, then started helping the paramedics.
One paramedic began asking me the routine medical questions about Annette. The others continued to work on
her. They gave her an IV, put an airway down her throat, and started administering drugs to start her heart. They
put the portable EKG on her.
I watched the readout with them. It was obvious there was absolutely no sign of heart activity. It was a true
"Flat Line."
Only once, maybe about 5 minutes into the EKG, did we see a very faint movement that might have been an indication
of electrical activity in her heart. It was so weak, however, that it could just as easily have been caused by the
CPR.
Until this time, they had not given Annette a shock, because electric shocks only work on hearts that still have some
electrical activity in them. As soon as they saw this, even though it was probably a false reading, they shocked
her. No reaction. They tried one or two more times. Still no reaction.
About this time, the paramedic who had been getting information from me asked if there was someone who could come over to
help with Michael. I looked over at Michael. He was still standing by Annette's dresser, watching everything,
looking deeply shocked and so very, very sad! This poor little child just turned 20 months old four days
ago. Just a few minutes ago he had been so happy. Now, he looked as if the end of the world was at hand. I
decided he needed to be shielded from seeing any more of this. I rushed over to him, scooped him up, hugged him, and
ran into his bedroom. I placed Michael in his crib, told him he would be OK, gave him another hug, and flew back into
our bedroom. Michael immediately began screaming "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!!!" at
the top of his lungs in a panic such as I had never heard before.
I came back to our bedroom, took the portable phone into the den, and called my mom. I remember saying; "Mom, can
you come over right away? It's Annette. I think she's gone! Please hurry."
Mom dropped everything and raced over. She got there around 3:15, only 10 minutes after I called!
When mom arrived, I had her go to Michael, who was still screaming uncontrollably.
I went back into the bedroom with Annette and the paramedics. In the other room, mom managed to get Michael calmed
down to the point where he was just calling for "Mommy" and "Daddy", but no longer screaming.
About this time, the paramedics started gathering everything up to transfer Annette to Methodist Hospital. Mom went
downstairs for a moment to get something. She noticed that the computer was still on. She asked what she should
do about it. Since she had a computer herself, she knew how to use one. I asked her to close Windows and turn
the PC off. At that moment, the paramedics brought Annette downstairs on their stretcher.!
Note: The PC files that were saved when mom shut the computer down told me that we
left at 3:26 p.m.
I rode the rescue squad to Methodist with the paramedics and Annette. I rode up front, but I looked through the
window to the back compartment several times. The other two paramedics were still administering CPR and working on
her.
When we arrived at Methodist ER, the staff rushed Annette into ER Room #1. They continued CPR, and the attending
physician, Dr. Susan Sucha, took over. They worked and worked on Annette. Dr. Sucha had them administer the full
range of drugs in an attempt to restart her heart. Dr. Sucha also had them shock Annette several times, all to no
avail. Annette never showed any sign of life.
Dr. Sucha came over to me after about an hour of working on Annette. She told me she had given Annette almost all
the drugs they were allowed to use to try to restart her heart. She said she could use one more round of medication,
but she didn't hold much hope. I told her about little Michael, and how much he needed his Mommy.
Dr. Sucha went back to Annette and gave her, not one, but two more rounds of medication.
Dr. Sucha finally looked over at me and said there was nothing more she could do. She stopped CPR and pronounced
Annette's death somewhere between 4:30 and 4:45 p.m. I cannot be more accurate, as time had seemed to stop for me at
the hospital. The time of death was later listed on Annette's death certificate as 3:46 p.m., which was the time we
arrived at the hospital.
At the suggestion of one of the nurses, I also called Annette's best friend, Mary, who also happens to be a Registered
Nurse at Methodist. She and John, her husband, got someone to watch their four children, then rushed over to
me. They arrived about 30 to 40 minutes after I called.
I was left alone in the Emergency Room with Annette so I could say goodbye. I remained for a very long time,
telling her how hard we tried, telling her how much I will miss her, and other very personal things. I also made a
solemn promise to Annette that I would raise Michael they way she wanted.
I stayed in that cold, sterile room with my Annette's cooling body for an eternity, as her eyes, transfixed in death,
slowly lost their beautiful blue color that I had always loved.
Finally, Mary, John, and the nurses convinced me it was time to leave. I remember looking up at the big wall clock
in that cold, lonely, ER room as I turned and left Annette there. It read 6:09 p.m.
Leaving that room was one of the hardest things I have ever done.
|
