Now What??

This is when my concept of time completely vanished.  I know these events took place, but I don't know exactly when, if some were the same day or if there were several days in between them.  I was not a functioning person at this time.


Waking up the day after the funeral was a surreal experience.  I was trying to wrap my head around everything that happened over the past week.  It took me a while to realize that it wasn't just a bad dream.  I remember sitting there thinking, "Now what?"

I was in a very weird fog, that many have dubbed "The Widow Fog".  I couldn't fully comprehend that Wylie was really gone.  It actually felt like he was out of town for work and would be coming back soon.  This is a feeling would last several weeks.  Up until this point, I had been "distracted" with things that needed to be done for funeral.  Everyday I had something that needed to be done.  Now that it was over, I was sitting here with nothing to do wondering, "What the fuck do I do now?"

My manager had told me that I would be eligible to take disability, so I would not have to go back to work right away.  I figured I had better start with this first.  I had to see my P.A. to complete the needed paperwork.  When I arrived to check in the receptionist was reviewing all my info with me.  She then came to the question if Wylie was still to be my emergency contact.  I broke down crying, hysterically and was able to choke out the words "I don't know."  She was looking at me completely taken aback by what was happening (and rightfully so) and I think decided it was best to tell me I was checked in and to have a seat.  Luckily, the nurses and P.A. were already aware of what happened.  Whether they were informed by the hospital since Wylie was their patient or read about in the paper.  I didn't have to provide any explanation, which was a relief.  He asked if I was eating, I barely was; if I was sleeping, no not really; and how my emotions were.  He wrote a prescription for me and told me to take half a pill if I was feeling overwhelmed.  He was more than willing to fill out the disability paperwork and fax it in for me.

After this was completed, I knew that I needed to call and open the claim.  I work for an insurance company and we are self insured for disability coverage.  Basically all the employees have our disability coverage through our company, so the people I had to call to open the claim were also employees.  I remember I was sitting on my bed, when I called.  I informed the lady who answered I needed to open a disability claim.  We went through my basic required info, then came to part where she asked me what the reason for my claim was.  I again broke down crying, trying to get out the words my husband died.  There was a pause and she said "Your husband died?'

"Yes" I responded.
"But what is the reason you are opening the claim?"
"My husband died and my manager told me I was able to take disability coverage", at this point my voice was no longer shaking, instead becoming more irritable.
"Mam, I need to know what to classify the reason for your claim."

Here is when I lost it, "LOOK, MY MANAGER, ALONG THE HEAD OF OUR HR DEPARTMENT PERSONALLY TOLD ME I CAN TAKE SHORT TERM DISABILITY!  MY DOCTOR HAS ALREADY FAXED THE PAPERWORK OVER.  I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU CLASSIFY IT AS JUST PICK SOMETHING!!"
She replied, "Please hold mam"

Now normally, I am able to keep my composure during situations like this, as getting angry rarely helps anything and makes the other person less likely to want to help you.  However, I wasn't able to control anything that came out of my mouth and it actually felt quite nice.  I mean this rude ass lady, didn't even stop to say "I'm sorry for your loss."  Not that I need that acknowledgement, but it just added fuel to the fire.

After a few minutes she came back on the line and apparently had figured out what she needed to classify my claim as.  She curtly started to read through how the claim would work, which I rudely interrupted her to say I've done this before, with much nicer and considerate customer service associates and hung up.  I was now pissed off and wondered if all the calls I had to make were going to be this difficult.

I would find out with my next call that they would be slightly difficult, but get easier from there.  I received the results of Wylie's autopsy via email.  I printed them off and tried to read them.  I may as well have been reading a Russian report, as I couldn't comprehend anything I had read.  The parts I could decipher, I had lots of questions about.  I could tell I was getting worked up and distressed.  I called the coroner's office, to see if I could get all my questions answered.  The clerk or office assistant answered and I asked if I could speak to the Coroner who performed the autopsy.  He told me she wasn't available and didn't take phone calls.  He proceeded to advise he could answer my questions.  Well after the third one, he told me I was asking too in depth questions that he didn't know the answers too.  He told me he would pass the message along to the coroner and that she would email me in a few days.  The answers he gave me to the first 2 questions I asked, sent me into a panic attack.  I was crying hysterically, couldn't catch my breath and could not calm myself down.  I remembered the pills my P.A. had prescribed and decided to take a full one, as I'd never experienced a panic or emotional attack like this before.  After several minutes, I started to calm down and felt my arms start to get tingling.  I laid down and tried to focus on my breathing and promptly fell asleep.

I woke up 4 hours later wondering "What the fuck just happened??"  I felt better, my arms were no longer tingling and I was calmed down.  I went to look at the pills I took.  In my fog, I didn't ask what he had prescribed and filled it without paying attention.  Turns out it was Xanax.  I'd never taken that before, but holy shit do those little pills work!  I had also never had a panic attack before (not sure if this the correct term, but you get the point).  I didn't like it and never wanted to have another one.

This is how I felt waking up after the panic attack and taking a Xanax.

A couple days later the Coroner called me.  She was so unbelievably nice and patient with me.  I wish I could have hugged her.  I started to ask my questions and she offered to walk me through the report from the beginning so I could understand everything.  She would stop and answer any questions about certain parts, never annoyed with me.  She had explained that Wylie was born with weak blood vessel in his brain.  Increased high blood pressure is what caused it to burst.  She said that heavy lifting, stress, tobacco & alcohol use, bad diet could all cause the blood pressure to increase.  All 5 of those fit Wylie.  He was trying to eat better, but with his job he frequently only had to time to make a quick gas station stop for food.  But as I knew from his prior physical he was healthy, especially considering the Red Man use and alcohol.  The heavy lifting and stress he had every day at his job.  I was confused as to why these suddenly would have an affect on the weak vessel.  She explained that the brain aneurysm was going to happen at some point in his life due to the weak blood vessel.  There was just something about the combination of things that increased the pressure enough to cause it to burst.

Of course, I then wanted to know if it could have been preventable or fixed at the hospital, as I had some doubts on if they could have done more.  She told me the only way the weak vessel could have been found prior to everything, was with a certain scan, but those are only done when certain symptoms are present and Wylie never had any of those.  Addressing if anything further could have been, she told me the second seizure he had did constrict blood flow to his brain and at that point he was brain dead.  Having all of this explained to me gave me an odd sense of comfort.  The hospital had done all they could and there was really no way to prevent this from happening.  To top it off, Wylie had always known he would pass away at a young age.  I couldn't thank her enough as it was a fairly long phone call, it sounded like it was above what her job duties called for and she sounded like she genuinely cared to help me.  I truly appreciated it and she did help to bring some comfort to my situation.

Now these 3-4 events I described above really only took about 20-45 minutes on different days.  The rest of my time was spent being in numb, foggy trance.  I kept the boys home for a few weeks after the funeral.  I really can't recall what we did during that time.  I do know that I was not able to sleep in my bed for a while.  It was too weird without having Wylie and I was haunted by our last argument.  Our last night in that bed together was spent arguing about having sex and we both went to sleep mad at each other.  I didn't realize right away that it was guilt I was feeling about this.  I can't tell you how many "What If''s" have run through my mind and still do.  What if instead of telling Wylie I was too tired, I told him I'd be in our room in a few minutes?  What if we would of had sex?  He would have been in a great mood the next day, we would have joked around that morning and kissed good bye.  He would have been relaxed, his blood pressure normal and most likely in a better mood at work.  What if that could have prevented the brain aneurysm from happening?   What if having sex would have saved him from leaving us for at least a little while longer?  These thoughts and feelings of guilt would (and still do)  affect several aspects of my life that I will address in future posts.

Since I couldn't sleep in our bed, I would sleep in the boys room with them.  They share a room and we pushed their full size beds together, so we could all sleep next to each other.  This helped to bring me some comfort and also comforted them as well.  A common fear young children have after loosing one parent, is that they will loose their other parent too.  It was difficult to get them to actually sleep, this is when a friend introduced us to Melatonin.  She told Son #2 to take it so it would help him sleep.  He promptly declared he did not want to sleep, so she told him it would help make him strong.  This he pondered for a moment, before agreeing to take it.  Since then we have called Melatonin "Strong Vitamins".  These "Strong Vitamins" worked like a charm and would become life savers for my sanity down the road.

When I felt the time was right for the boys to go back to school and daycare, I made sure to talk to their teachers.  I had also talked to counselors, who told me that children process grief differently and more quickly than adults.  At this time as they seemed to be ok, they didn't think it was necessary to start counseling sessions.  They did tell me ways that they may express grief, so I knew what to look for and if these started happening then it would be a good time to bring them in.  Having this knowledge, I felt more comfortable with them going back their normal routines and being able to share it with their teachers.  I had meetings with each of their teachers before they went back and they were all very supportive and understanding.  This was a great help and feeling for me knowing that the boys would be in good care and looked after.

With the boys back in school, I really had nothing to do during the day.   The full numbness mood kicked in.  I'd lay around most of the day, napping off and on.  Showering was a task that required a lot of effort.  I'd be lucky to shower every 2 or 3 days.  I'd just throw on whatever clothes I managed to pick up.  I did find comfort in wearing Wylie's clothes.  It made me feel closer to him.  If I had to leave the house, I would just throw on a hat and brush my teeth.  I didn't care, my life was turned upside down and my personal appearance was the last thing on my mind.  I did start to eat again, but it was randomly and small amounts.  The "normal" eating times were a thing of the past to me now, as was any routine I'd previously had.  My drinking picked back up.  Slowly at first, then it would gradually pick up speed.  (This I'll also address in a future post).   Trying to function to be a normal human being, was pretty much impossible during this time.

If it were not for my close friends and sister, I have no idea what I would have done and where I would be at right now.  These ladies came together and formed a "protective bubble" around me which I can say was absolutely vital in me getting through that time.  Everything they did for me gave me a solid support system, which I needed, even if I didn't know it at the time.  They are so important to me that they deserve their own title and blog post, coming soon.