I Lost My Husband to Covid-19

Coronavirus

 This is a sad story and brings home the severity of the virus.  It does not discriminate between healthy and sick people, nor between young and old.  Please, please head the advice of the Medics and Government and stay safe.  Too many people have already lost their lives to this pandemic.

Today we’re sharing the story of Conrad Buchanan, a devoted husband and father who died after testing positive for the coronavirus.

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Conrad Buchanan woke up the morning of March 14th — the very day that he, his wife Nicole, and daughter Skye, 12, were supposed to be leaving for their spring vacation — with a low grade fever and body aches. He worked as a DJ, and was around big parties and crowds. When he woke up that morning, his back hurt so much that he told Nicole he thought they might need a new mattress.

As the day wore on, he proceeded to feel worse, developing body aches and nausea. He was swabbed for the flu, but the test came back negative. His primary care doctor gave him a script to test for Covid-19, but because he had no prior health issues, hadn’t travelled out of the country recently, and was only 39 years old, nobody would test him.

His symptoms continued to get worse. By Wednesday the 19th, he had developed a horrible cough and diarrhea. Four days after showing symptoms, Conrad was finally able to get a drive through test for Covid-19, where he was swabbed and told to self-quarantine. On March 21st, Conrad received his results: he had tested positive for Covid 19. The Health Department instructed him to stay at home, and to go to the hospital if he was having trouble breathing.

By that evening, he was so sore from coughing and body aches that he couldn’t physically get himself to the bathroom. Nicole told us that she knew it was time to take him to the hospital: “By Sunday, I could tell his breathing was just getting tougher for him. I kept telling him we should go in, and he was telling me he was so scared to go in. But his pulse was low — 84 — and I knew I had to take him in.

“We get to the hospital — Gulf Coast Medical Center in Fort Myers, Florida — and at that point he’s still talking to me. He says to the ER team: ‘My wife has to come with me.’ He’s scared out of his mind, and the hospital staff says, ‘She just needs to park the car, and then we’ll bring her to you.’ When I parked the car and came back to the entrance, the hospital staff wouldn’t let me in. I can’t get into the ER, no one is talking to me, and the hospital is on complete lockdown.

“An hour goes by, and I finally speak to a doctor who says, ‘I intubated your husband and put him on a ventilator, and he’s waiting to be moved up to the ICU.’ I said, ‘What? Why did you put him on a ventilator?’ Nobody called me; nobody let me know what was going on or told me what the recommendations were. I know my husband would have never made that decision on his own.The doctor told me that this was the protocol during the pandemic.”

That night, Conrad had a pulmonary embolism, which affected his lungs and the right side of the heart. Nicole says that although she was able to “sneak in” to the hospital, she wasn’t allowed to touch or be in the same room as her husband. She had a nurse put a phone up to his ear so that she could talk to him.

Nicole told us, “By that time, he was medically sedated and paralyzed. The nurse there was amazing, and she could see and hear my pain. I asked her to call me when things took a turn. On Thursday she called me, told me his oxygen level had gone down to 40, and they were pushing epi every 10 minutes to keep his heart going. He had brain damage. I knew that that’s not a life he wanted to live. He always sang “Three Little Birds” to our daughter, so when the nurse put us on the phone with him, we were able to sing that to him as he left us.” Conrad died that day at 5:45 p.m.

Now, Nicole is fighting to get an autopsy: “I want answers. A medical examiner hasn’t even looked at my husband’s body. They are trying to rule it as a natural cause. But they need to look at his body to get answers. These doctors don’t know what they’re doing. They’re not ready, and they’re not prepared. Everyone is scared. They wouldn’t even test me, and I’ve been in the house with him for 16 days. I finally got my own test and I’m positive, but my only symptoms are that I have no taste or smell. Why did he die but I’m okay?”

Nicole called the CDC to file a complaint, and was told they are only performing autopsies on 5% of Covid-19 victims. “We, as the U.S., need to prepare these hospitals and these doctors — we need to know what happened to him.” Nicole said. “I would never want somebody in a million years to go through this. I feel like I’m in a horror movie.”

She told us, “He was so loved in this community. He was such an uplifting, goofy spirited guy. He just loved bringing every walk of life together through music.”

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Our hearts are with Nicole and the rest of Conrad’s loved ones at this time.

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This appeared in Katie Couric’s Wake-Up Call newsletter. Subscribe here.

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Katie Couric and friends talk career, culture, politics…

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The Journey Through Loss And Grief

Dealing with Loss and Grief   In her brutally honest, ironically funny and widely read meditation on death, "You May Want to Marry My Husband," the late author and filmmaker Amy Krouse Rosenthal gave her husband Jason very public permission to move on and find happiness. A year after her death, Jason offers candid insights on the often excruciating process of moving through and with loss -- as well as some quiet wisdom for anyone else experiencing life-changing grief.

How Mourning Can Affect Your Memory

Mourning and Memory


 Every day millions of us face the loss of a loved one.  Grief is not widely understood and I hope this post by Julia Lundstrom sheds light on mourning for many!

Good Grief: How Mourning Can Affect Your Memory

• April 29, 2016
• / Memory
• / By Julia Lundstrom

Of two things we can be certain: death and taxes. Yet, we never seem prepared for the death of a loved one.

Having dealt with grief and mourning in my own life, I have a certain empathy for those who are experiencing this painful aspect of life. Since I’ve experienced many different types of grieving which have resulted in my expressing or not expressing my grief, I find that socially and culturally grieving is not understood very well.
This has led me to do research on the topic. Because I speak day-to-day with many people in various stages of mourning and hear their pain in their voice, I’d love to share some of the information I’ve found.

Grief isn’t just for mourning death

It seems in our culture that grieving is only acceptable if you’re mourning the death of a very close loved one. Yet, scientifically it has been proven that we as humans grieve over many aspects of life such as losing our health, losing a friend or beloved pet. Losing a job and divorce is cited as huge factors for entering depression which is the result of the grieving process.
If we could be allowed to look at what we’re experiencing as what it truly is – mourning the loss of something or someone we truly loved, then perhaps we could get on with the process.

Complex Grief

As if grief isn’t bad enough, did you know there is such a thing as complicated grief? I didn’t either until I began to study the topic. It seems that when I need things to be the simplest it is when I am mourning, but that isn’t necessarily the case.
Complicated grief, according to medical literature, is when the grief isn’t simply emotional. When we experience loss, some of us more sensitive creatures tend to experience it on every level, even the physical. Loss felt deeply for long periods of time will wreck your immune system, cause your adrenals to be overworked and your hormone regulation to disrupted. Essentially, you become very weak, tired and quite possibly sick.

But what about memory?

Interestingly, grief impacts memory deeply. In recent years, a study was published that followed those who had experienced grief from the loss of a loved one. It showed that short-term memory was affected for all the study participants. For those that grieved longer, complicated grief became an issue and memory was impacted even more.
For those suffering complicated grief, they could remember almost anything as long the memory involved the deceased loved one. Most other memories were severely impacted if the memory did not include their loved one.
Other studies have shown that in some instances, people who are grieving suffer Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), which is known to have memory impact as well. With complicated grief there’s the problem of multiple issues affecting the brain at the same time. Depression, PTSD, and anxiety all contribute to major memory issues sometimes resulting in episodes of complete forgetfulness of the most basic of tasks.

The Good News

Here’s what you should know. While grieving and mourning are different for every person and can vary drastically in length for each person, the memory issues normally go back to normal once the opportunity to completely grieve has occurred. This could be years of memory issues in varying intensity but only if the person is experiencing severe complicated grief for a very long time will it cause changes in the brain that could cause lasting memory issues.

What you can do

When I speak with grievers, the first thing I tell them is they are perfectly OK. They need to be reassured that what they are going through is normal. I’m told every time that this helps them immediately and tremendously. My experiences and research tell me that even with the scariest episodes of memory loss (can’t remember how to start a car) it is merely a stark wake up call for you to listen to what your body needs. It needs support from you to go through the process of letting go.

Grief, Disbelief and Survival Techniques

 

Ruth Grilly shares her story of loss and sadness and I hope this helps someone in similar circumstances: 

 

Grief, Disbelief and a Survival Technique

I’ve been procrastinating for days over whether or not to write this post – everything is still so raw and sad – but I feel as though it will allow me to at least move on with my work and, at the moment, work is a very welcome distraction.

I lost my Dad last Thursday. Which makes it sound as though I misplaced him – perhaps in the supermarket, or in the library. I wish with all of my broken heart that I had merely misplaced him and that I could turn a corner and he would be standing there, waiting for me, but unfortunately I’m using the term “lost” in a more permanent sense. I just can’t bring myself to write the word that means that thing that’s so final and irreversible.

Not yet.

Does it get any better? I didn’t ever think that grief could be so confusing, so complicated. Because before you can miss the person you’re grieving, you have to first rid yourself of the many “what ifs?” and “when dids?” and “why didn’ts?”. Why didn’t I just call him that evening? What if I had popped round to say hello? When did it happen? Did he think of me? Does it make me selfish to want to know that he thought of me? 

This is so intensely private, but at the same time I have always found writing to be the most therapeutic thing I can do. And for the past few days, all I’ve really wanted to do is to talk and talk, to share my feelings, but I can’t do it face to face because I cry and I can’t honestly cry any more because my skull itself has started to ache, and sometimes I open my mouth and no sound or even air comes out for long, long moments of time. It’s as though I’m just letting the grief out, like it’s a big black bird with its wings slowly unfolding as it emerges into the air, or some sort of fabric that has been balled up in my mouth that is suddenly being released. No sound, just the feeling that the entire contents of my head and body want to make an exit except they can’t because it’s as though everything has turned to stone.

And I don’t even know why I’m writing this, really, because I could absolutely have carried on – publicly – without the majority of people having even the faintest inkling of any sort of life trauma taking place. I could easily maintain my usual tone – not least because I have about a dozen posts ready that were written pre-catastrophe and just need photos adding to them – and nobody would be any the wiser. But a crazy, irrational part of me is thinking that my Dad might be somehow observing what is going on, and thinking bloody hell darlin’, you’re jabbering on about body lotions without a care in the world and I’m up here being forced to wear sandals with socks and a semi-transparent white robe!

I feel as though I can’t move on with work (and I desperately need the distraction that work will provide) until I have at least somehow acknowledged the momentous thing that has happened – that has changed my world – and so here it is. It seems like the briefest of pauses, really, when I think that I am only committing these words to one little post, but it’s all I can bear to do. Privately, in the offline world, the pause is so big it threatens to swallow me up whole – it’s difficult to imagine life returning to normal, though it gets slightly more bearable each day – but here, online, I’m going to maintain the state of semi-denial I’ve lulled myself into, which seems to be my survival tactic of choice.

So on with the show – and if you are reading, Dad, I have a bone to pick with you. You left without saying goodbye.

Grief, Disbelief And Survival Techniques