I walk to the nurses’ station. “Can you page Dr. Avery, please?”
“Of course, sir.”
About five minutes after Dr. Avery was paged, she walks up to the nurses’ station.
The nurse behind the counter says, “Mr. Starr wants to speak with you.”
“What can I help you with, Mr. Starr?”
I hesitate. I know what I want to say, and I know what I need to say, but the words are having trouble forming. I am, in essence, killing my wife. How can I do that? How can anyone do that? How do you tell the one person who is keeping her alive to stop what they are doing and let her die?
I become lost in thought as I remember when we had to put Jaxson down. Jayden was beside herself and could not fathom killing her most beloved dog. She always referred to him as her heart dog. Jaxson had a large tumor inside his chest that was pressing on his lungs. It was difficult for him to breathe, and it had to be removed. It was not cancer, but it would have eventually suffocated him if it stayed in his chest.
The doctors tried everything to see if the tumor had attached itself to anything, hoping it would be attached to the spleen or gall bladder and the whole organ plus the tumor could be removed easily. But the tumor was too big, and no matter what they tried, they couldn’t get a clear picture. It was getting more and more difficult for Jax to breathe, and they decided they were going to take their chances and operate anyway.
Thirty minutes into the surgery, the surgeon called Jayden and told her the tumor was attached to his heart and there was nothing they could do for him. She begged the surgeon to do whatever it took to save his life; she wanted her baby back. Then the realization hit her on what she was actually asking him to do, and she realized she couldn’t do that to the dog she loved so much. She knew what she was asking was what was best for her and not what was best for Jax. She called the vet back and was immediately patched through to the operating room where she told Dr. Jordan to let him go. After she got off the phone, she turned to me and said, “I just killed my baby boy.”
Jayden lived with that hurt for the rest of her life, and now, I am about to do the same thing to my wife. I can’t say the words.
“Mr. Starr?”
I’m taken out of my thoughts and brought back to Dr. Avery. All I can muster is “it’s time.” Thankfully, she doesn’t need any further explanation. She turns to the nurse and asks, “Will you please prepare the necessary paperwork for Mr. Starr to sign and then join us in Mrs. Starr’s room?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the nurse replies and walks to a filing cabinet.
Dr. Avery turns back toward me. “There are a couple of papers you will need to sign, stating you consent to us turning off the machines.”
I nod. “I understand.”
“While we are waiting, why don’t you go be with your wife.”
I look at my watch when I walk into her room. It’s 9:21 a.m., on July 8th, 2007. Mom, Dad, and Harold are all around her, and Mom is holding her hand.
I walk to the other side of her and hold her other hand. The noise from the machines is rhythmic and somewhat soothing. A minute later, Dr. Avery walks into the room with a clipboard. She hands it to me, and I sign two pieces of paper. I don’t even read what they say. All I know is that whatever is on those papers is giving the hospital and doctor permission to let my wife die.
Once the papers are signed, Dr. Avery states, “Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Starr.”
I look at my parents, and they all nod. I turn back toward Dr. Avery, and I nod as well. She walks to one of the machines and flips a switch.
The room gets a little quieter.
She walks to anther and flips that switch, as well as two more behind it. The room becomes eerily quiet. I glance at my watch. It’s 9:33 a.m. I look back at my wife, and it is clear she’s not breathing.
The doctor checks her pulse. She looks up at me and says, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Starr. She’s gone.”
Seven simple words mean nothing when they are read separately, but when they are put together, they change your life forever. How can they not? Everything I have ever lived for is lying in this hospital bed. She is my wife, my best friend, my whole world… and she’s gone.
Those were the absolute worst twelve minutes of my entire life.
So now what do I do? Go on with my life? Everyone will probably say it’s what Jayden would want. How do they know? I’ve known her longer than all of them. Do they think I don’t know what my own wife would have wanted?
They are right though. Jayden would want me to move on. But what they don’t know is Jayden would understand that I find it difficult to breathe without her. She would understand how my heart feels like it is going to explode inside my chest, and I will never experience love again. She would know the thought of “going on with my life” terrifies me. Because she would feel the same if it were me. She would know my life means nothing without her. She would know, and everyone else doesn’t have a clue. I fall in the chair beside her bed and sob.
After Jayden is officially pronounced dead, I realize I have nowhere to go. I rushed home to be with her. She’s gone, and there is nothing left for me at home. How can that be home without her?
“Mr. Starr, if you want to let us know who to contact to pick her up, I’ll be glad the make those arrangements for you.”
“Jake, let me take care of that for you,” my dad says and then looks at Jayden’s dad, who nods.
