Oh, my God. It was just about this time of day fifteen years ago today, that my wife, myself, and her parents left for the hospital where her surgery was scheduled for 8 or so, if I recall correctly.
The drive to the hospital? A short one, five minutes or so. No one spoke in the car. My father-in-law was not the smartest man ever, but he was honest, hard working and no-nonsense. He dropped the three of us off at the main entrance then went to park the car.
The admittance processing went smoothly, with a lot of papers to be read and signed. We were escorted to the floor where the surgery would be done. We were put in a tiny room down the corridor.
There was a small television set but none of us were in any mood to watch television. We made very uncomfortable small talk until the doctor came in to talk to us. He had performed the initial surgery on Michelle's ankle a year and a half before. That procedure had gone well, as Michelle eventually was able to walk on her own for short distances.
In one of life's true ironies, she then re-injured the same ankle, the same exact way. She was getting out of an electric powered cart when we were coming out of Wal-Mart. She tried desperately to get a power chair for herself. No doctor would deem it necessary for her, therefore, Medicaid would not cover the cost of one.
Buying one on our own was simply out of the question. I pushed her everywhere in a manual
wheelchair. Her doctor agreed to do a second surgery if and when she was medically cleared. On June 2, 2005, her primary care physician refused to issue a final clearance.
Michelle being Michelle, she refused to take no for an answer and talked her way into an exam with a doctor she had never seen before. He gave her what she wanted, we called the doctor's office, and so we went to the hospital the next morning, as I've detailed here.
When her oldest and closest friend arrived, we were already behind schedule. Her presence brightened our collective mood considerably.
I can close my eyes and remember Michelle taking her copy of something.
She took it and folded it into a paper airplane. She smiled at me when she was done.
She flew it across the room several times, with myself retrieving it for her each time.
Eventually, of course, the medical team came to get her. I let her parents go with her down the corridor. I and her friend relocated to a larger waiting area.
The surgery took longer than expected but when it was done, we were all glad to hear it had gone well. I told my mother and father in law that they could go home, and they did. Her friend stayed a bit longer but then had to leave.
By that time, a few members of my family had arrived. My cousin went into Michelle's room
with me when she came out of recovery. She stayed a few minutes then gave us the privacy we needed.
Michelle was weak and tired but in a good mood. She would not eat her lunch until I went down to the cafeteria to get something for myself and came back with it. We ate together and then I called my cousin, who had gone to McDonalds, just a few minutes away.
By that time, Michelle was starting to fall asleep. She ever so gently asked me to go home, to feed our pets, to get the rent money out of the bank and pay the rent, to get some groceries.
I kissed her and promised I would call as soon as I possibly could. My cousin, who lived in the same building as we did, drove the two of us home. When she had taken care of a few things, she called me and asked if I was ready to run my errands.
I said I was, so she drove me to the bank, the supermarket, and our land lord's office, then home again.
I was very tired, so I took a restful nap. I woke up refreshed, cooked dinner and watched television for a little bit. I walked our two dogs one last time for the day. I was just about to call Michelle when the phone rang.
It was her, calling me, of course. She was still tired, so we talked for just a few minutes. I promised her I would come to see her as soon as visiting hours began. As I've written here before, the last three words I ever said to her were "I love you".
She died at 9:45 the next morning, while I was on my way to the hospital on foot.
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