So I was sitting on this chair outside the room feeling like I was falling and I hear someone say “he had a DNR”. The nurse she remembered him saying that when he was admitted but they couldn’t find it. They asked if I wanted him ventilated. To me this was an f***ing stupid question. Of course I want him ventilated I don’t want him to die! Then the voice came again and told the nurse that Justin didn’t want to be ventilated so don’t do it unless they thought there was a reasonable chance that he would live and not need the ventilator. Who was this f*** voice and why was it talking!? Didn’t it know that he was my husband I got to make the decisions? Some where in the craziness that was now rolling around in my head I realized that the voice was mine and that I was the one saying these horrible words. The part of me that wanted to scream “I don’t care what he said I am not going to allow him to give up!” was trying to get out, but the more sensible voice kept talking first. The next thing I know I am looking at my Justin and the doctors and nurses are murmuring their apologies and filing out of the room. I remember the clergy man, the first phone call I received and not being able to say the words to the person on the other line. I remember sitting there beside his bed waiting. I had to wait for his mom and sister. But honestly I think I was waiting for him to open his eyes, to say something smart ass, to touch my cheek one more time. Why wasn’t he doing any of those things? Then the numbness was there and his mom and sister walked in. I don’t remember much about the rest of the day, phone calls, decisions that I probably shouldn’t have been making because I had no idea what was going on. I remember trying to tell our daughter, but she wouldn’t listen. I remember lots of people. Things were mixed up and jumble, my world was spinning and I couldn’t make it stop, I felt broken, drained, numb, and absolutely crazy. But this was nothing compared to when the numbness started to wear off. Searing pain shot through my chest. My heart felt like it was shriveling up, my lungs felt as though they couldn’t get enough air. How could I possibly survive? My rock, my anchor, my air, my very self had left me. I guess it was a good thing the numbness staid for awhile. I was able to make arrangements and talk to people, though I don’t remember much of what was actually said. But at night or when I was by myself the pain came.