The next day, I took Jeff to his primary care physician who examined him and reviewed
his physical and agreed that nothing in his medical history could account for the sudden
seizure. Again, we were told he could not drive for 6 months.
Jeff had his MRI that Thursday and the EEG on Friday. We had a follow-up appointment
with the Neurologist the following Wednesday. At the follow-up we were told that
nothing significant was found on the MRI and that the EEG could pinpoint that he’d had
a seizure and the region of the brain that it occurred in. We were told to come back in 3
months or to call if he had another seizure.
Two weeks later, I accompanied Jeff to a visit with his pulmonologist. I was not happy
with the “why” of Jeff’s seizure and was looking for a cause that made more sense. I
was wondering if his asthma medication could be a cause. Of course the pulmonologist
was adamant that the medication could not be the cause. He was also rather upset that
Jeff was not put on anti-seizure medication and demanded the phone number of the
neurologist so that he could speak to him directly to discuss Jeff’s care. He was also
unhappy with the “cause” of the seizure as defined by sleep deprivation and wanted Jeff
to see a Cardiologist and have a sleep study, stress test, and a cardiac event monitor to
rule out a heart condition as the cause.
Jeff never got a chance to do those last tests. On Sunday, February 26th again at 5:30am. Jeff had his second grand mal (tonic clonic) seizure. He cried out loudly (ARGHHHH!!) and thenconvulsed at the waist with his hands fisted at his side. I removed the covers of the bed and watched the clock to determine how long the seizure lasted. I remember saying “oh, please don’t do this!” knowing that now, this was a medical condition that he would have for the rest of his life and how much of an impact that would have on us. About a minute into the seizure I heard and saw Jeff loose control of his bladder and wet the bed. When the seizure was over, he went into a deep sleep. At that point, I called his parents to tell them that Jeff had done it again and to come over. I waited with Jeff until he awoke and could move, about 30 minutes. At that time, I helped him up and changed his clothes and moved him into the guest bedroom so he could lie on a dry bed.
I got to work stripping my bed so that it could dry. Jeff’s parents arrived and we talked.
Around 7am Jeff got up from the guest room and came downstairs (our children were
up). He laid on the couch and realized that the first seizure was not a fluke. He didn’t
stay downstairs long, the kids were all over him and he said he felt tired and nauseous so
he went back upstairs to lay down.
I went in once to make sure he was feeling OK. He had me lay down next to him for a
bit and I started to cry. I cried because now the had a "seizure condition" something that we were going to have to deal with for the rest of his life. He spent some time comforting me up until I told him to stop being so nice (best way to get me to stop crying). We laughed and I told him to get some
sleep and I left.
My in-laws left with the kids, deciding to take them for the day so that Jeff could have so
peace and quiet and recover. I went and took a shower. After my shower, I went in to
check on Jeff again.
I read a book years ago, Little Earthquakes by Jennifer Weiner, in the story a mother had lost her child to SIDS and she remarked that she didn't "feel it" when her child past on. That something of that magnitude should have registered on her psyche on some level. I feel the same way, that somehow I should have known when Jeff was in trouble, that I should have known that he was dying as I took a stupid shower.
There are no words that can convey the way the room looked, the jolt of adrenaline, the way I just knew as I opened the door to the guest room. I found him lifeless, facedown on the bed. There is no mistaking it, when you see someone lying like that. You know they aren't asleep. I immediately rolled him over and I could see that he was ashen in color and wasn’t breathing, his tongue was protruding slightly from his mouth. I ran and got the phone and called 911. While on the phone with 911 I pulled Jeff off the bed, shoved the bed out of the way to have room (gouging a hole in
the drywall) and began CPR.
CPR seems like an innocent abbreviation, unless you've actually done it yourself. In which case, it is violent, exhausting, and devestating when it doesn't work. I counted, I breathed, I pounded on his chest, and I begged Jesus the entire time. I hope to God I never have to listen to that 911 tape. I was hysterical yet functioning.
I knew that the CPR was working because I could hear the breath expel from him after I had breathed into him. I performed CPR up until the ambulance arrived and I had to run down to open the door. As the EMT's took over, I threw myself on the floor, genuflecting in a way I can't figure out how without hurting myself. I had enough time to call Jeff's parents (I don't even know what I said). Then the EMT's moved me into another room having two people to calm me down and take information. The EMT’s worked on Jeff for over an hour. Jeff was in one ambulance, I was in another. I don't know why they seperated us. I kept asking if they had gotten his heart started. I texted my sister and my BFF to meet me at the hospital so that someone could take the kids from my in-laws. I texted my friend at church thinking maybe she had her phone next to her. We raced in the ambulance to the hospital. They didn't let me get out until after Jeff was wheeled into the hospital. Then they directed me into a small room just off the ER. A small room with a couch and a few chairs. A room, I never knew a hosptial ER had, a private waiting room.
He was pronounced dead shortly after arriving at the hospital. And that is why I say surviving. Surviving after SUDEP. That has been my life this past year. Surviving. Surviving without Jeff, the father of my two little boys, the love of my life. Surviving.
Sincerely,
Jeff's Wife
The Lord is near the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Psalm 34:18
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