On Saturday we had a visit from the hospice intake coordinator, Chris, who Steve liked a lot.  He said the part about his job that he doesn't like is that he only manages intakes and so we would not see him again most likely.  He said that we'd be hearing from a social worker, nurse, and home health aid on Monday or Tuesday since it was the weekend when Steve was accepted as a patient.  Our neighbor Daniel helped us again by moving the couches around in the tv room and making room for the hospice bed that would soon arrive.

Later that afternoon Steve's cousin Bob and son Dylan arrived from Ohio.  Steve & Bob shared some quality time together and good conversation.  Then we received the hospice equipment; some parts were 'placeholders' since there was a back order (bedside commode, shower seat, bedside table).  Walker, wheelchair, oxygen, bed made it properly.

Sunday mid-day, Steve's sister Sandy arrived with her husband Ed, their boy Seth and their grandson Grant.  Steve's other sister Sue arrived with her kids Randy and Sarah.  Steve was much more sleepy on Sunday so they got less conversation but lots of time laying next to Steve in bed and everyone was in-out of the room to spend time and talk with Steve.

Oh yeah, on Sunday I turned 50.  Steve gave me the green light to head to the beach for a quick view of the sunset with Sue, Randy, Sarah, Sandy, Seth, Ed & Grant.  The girls made sure that I had cupcakes and candles back home and I was serenaded with Happy Birthday in the dining room while Steve was in our bedroom.  They asked me to make a wish and I fell apart.

Overnight Sunday it got really rough.  Steve wasn't sleeping; he was very agitated, and was saying 'Ok.  Alright.  Alright.  Alright.  Alright.  Ok', or 'Just sit me up', but was soon as I helped him sit up, he'd lay right back down again.  Then it seemed like he would fall asleep only to wake up a short while later with horrific pain, and he couldn't very well say where it was.  His speech wasn't slurred or anything; he just wasn't finding words or was just confused.

So first thing Monday I called hospice to ask when we would see a nurse.  We got a visit from Gwen, and we explained the pain and agitation overnight.  When she called Dr. Nation, he prescribed liquid morphine, anti-anxiety and anti-nausea after a video call so he could see what shape Steve was in.  That was around 10:30am but after Seth & Randy ran to multiple pharmacies to pick up the Rx's (Gwen said she'd ordered from a pharmacy that had what we needed, but that wasn't the case), we weren't able to help start relieve any of Steve's pain until 2:00pm.   By then we'd had a visit from the social worker Danielle who confirmed Steve was on 'imminent' status, which is defined by someone expected to pass within 7 days.  I was on the phone 12 times with hospice between the 1st call to find out when Gwen would be coming and the last call to check whether we could help reduce Steve's pain in the middle of the 2 hours between morphine doses. 

Steve was not conversational at all on Monday, but Carter and I especially spent extra time in the room with him, talking to him, telling him how much we love him and how proud we are to have built this family together with and because of him.  After some alone time in his own room, Carter then said he was going up the street to play with friends and went to tell his Dad, saying 'I love ya Dad' on his way out.  He paused a split second before leaving the room and I could tell just how badly he hoped Steve would return an audible 'I love you', but he just couldn't.

Bob and Dylan headed home to Ohio because they had shared the words and love that they needed to with Steve and just couldn't bear the weight of the inevitable.  

Around 4:30pm, Steve's breathing got very rapid; at one point I counted 53 breaths in one minute.  But then, it started to slow, more and more labored.......his pulse ox was 83 & I tried to give him oxygen but he refused….until there was no more breath.  I asked Ed to get Carter from up the street.

At 5:13pm CST on Monday, February 6, 2023, my handsome Sailor was called Home.  He was surrounded by his two sisters, his mother,  and myself in the room with him.  We were all touching him - his head, holding his hands, holding his feet, kissing his forehead, telling him we loved him and would take good care of Carter, and we asked him to watch over us, as his soul departed.  

Once Carter was back, he and I hugged.  I cried/wept/sobbed; Carter hadn't soaked it in yet.  Then we all hugged each other and cried/wept/sobbed.....until we didn't.  

There came a time where we could be in the room with Steve and begin sharing happy memories, and even laughter.  I would never have guessed that could happen as quickly as it did.  You could tell for a moment there that his spirit was with us in the room, but outside his human shell.  That's a real thing - the spirit sticking around for a bit.  I can testify.  We took some time going in & out of the room with Steve and moved throughout the house and the front porch somewhat numb, but with the slightest hint of Peace that Steve was no longer suffering.  

It was eventually time to call hospice and have them plan for the removal, and the nurse Max who arrived, was a true living Angel.  She had the most pleasant smile and manner about her.  She had to declare Steve deceased for the hospice paperwork and to call for the mortuary transport (which Steve used to do with First Call of Colorado for 5 years).   Sandy, Sue and Carlyn were lightening the mood among themselves while Max listened and smiled, and I think she got a kick out of how we had begun our grieving process.  

When Carter and I went in the room for our last visit with Steve's body, it was clear his spirit had moved on.  Though you might think it morbid, it was important for me that Carter recognize that.  Carter didn't have anything to say so it wasn't long that we stayed there and then he wanted more alone time in his room.

When the transport gentlemen came, I told them what Steve used to do so they'd better mind their Ps & Qs.  It was a small bit of laughter through tears.  Again, we sent I-love-yous with Steve and kissed his forehead.

Though Steve had told Bob he didn't want to die in our bed, I just didn't think it was right to have Steve in the hospice bed in a different room where he'd be separated from me, plus it would've been painful torture on him to move him there.  So, he stayed in our bed, and that is where he passed.  I will no longer sleep there, so we adjusted arrangements so Carlyn and I could still be comfortable and eventually we got some rest.

On Tuesday when the family returned in the morning (Carlyn's staying at the house but the others got hotel rooms), they offered to take everything off the bed.  They offered to get it out of the room but we haven't sorted logistics of who can get rid of it/how.  A problem for another day.  Later when we couldn't find Warren, all we had to do was check the side of the bed Steve had been on, and there was the cat all curled up.  We think Warren was fully aware of what was going on. 

Signs of Steve 'on the other side' were already starting to show.  The girls took me to a furniture store mostly to get me out of the house, but also to start getting an idea for a new bed.  After a couple stops & nothing I wanted, we headed to the beach for sunset and wouldn't you know in the cloud formations above was the shape of a soaring eagle.  It was breathtaking.  I'll be sharing this update to Facebook and will include pictures and video in other posts there.  You really must see it to believe it.  Dinner was at Harpoon Harry's with a toast to Steve, who was DJ'ing songs for us like 'Against all odds' and Don McLean's 'American Pie'.

Late last night, my sister and mom arrived from Colorado and are staying at Carter's Godparents' condo (more living Angels for offering them a place to stay). 

Today we did our own things for part of the day.  The boys took Carter fishing while mom, Liesl and I went to breakfast to hear Steve continue his DJ gig for the Coconuts restaurant's Muzak with more Phil Collins - 'Another Day in Paradise', some 'Forever Young', 'Time After Time', Richard Marx's 'Right Here Waiting', and 'I'll Be There For You' by Bon Jovi.  I mean really, lyrics like 'I didn't mean to miss your birthday, Baby.  I wish I'd seen you blow those candles out'.  ARE YOU KIDDING me, Steve?!?!?!  😭  Give a girl a break from the crying, why don't ya?!  Then once we caught up with Sue, she said she'd seen even more eagles today.  Not that a fighter jet flyover is unusual around here, but we found Steve in those today also, as well as a beautifully wind-blown American flag at the pier.  Steve is making it super-duper, extra mucho, abundantly clear that he is watching over us.  There have been soooooo many signs since Monday, I'm sure there are some that I am missing now that I type at this late hour.

At this point I will no longer be posting journal entries on his Caring Bridge site, but I'm sure as we navigate our grieving process, there will be posts elsewhere about my love, my friend, my Sailor, my sounding board, my sometimes pain-in-the-butt, my cheerleader, my husband, my eagle.  Fly high, dear Steve, and keep us under your wings.  We love you.