My Son's Overdose  Hospital - 3
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So this is how things continued until the last day arrived. I was on day 6 with no shower and no sleep. I hadn't even noticed.

      Something was different with Josh;  we all felt it. It's hard to explain, but for the first few days, you knew you were in the room WITH Josh. Then seemingly overnight, it was like his spirit left. Even though he was still lying in the bed, you knew that the part of him that was Josh simply wasn't in there any more.
      I knew he was slipping away from me. All the begging I had done with God had been fruitless. The the heart attack, the bolt of lightning, the roof caving in, and all the other suggestions I'd thrown at God on how he could wipe me out... let me trade places, so my son could live had all been ignored.

     The neurologist and nurses had called a meeting with us two days earlier, and tried to approach the subject of turning off the machines.  It amounted to one short meeting because I'd told them that NO ONE was turning ANYTHING off and they were to keep my son alive.

      The neurologist came in that morning, took me out into the hallway, and told me that he was certain... today would be the day my sweet boy would die.
      He must have thought I was crazy, because I just stood there blinking at him. I couldn’t say anything. He shot a look at the nurse, and then repeated himself more firmly, as though he were talking to a child who was just not getting it. I felt like I was in a dense fog, and that he was speaking to me from a great distance. He and the nurse looked at one another as if to say, does this mother understand what we are saying? Of course I did, but I simply could not process it. My fear was too great to allow it in. I was still waiting on a miracle.

     Josh had developed pneumonia on top of everything else, and was barely breathing that last day. The "lung doctor" came and did what he could, but Josh's oxygen levels continued to drop.
     That evening to our great relief, Barb, our little angel of a nurse came on duty. We were all so happy and relieved to see her. She was very different from the other nurses, always so gentle with Josh and concerned about us. She told me her son was Josh’s age, and I think this was why she had been so tender and caring with him each time she’d been on duty. She would bathe him, and gently do all of his care, getting his pillows just so, and making him as comfortable as possible. She would always make time to talk to us, and answer our questions with compassion. I remember her saying to me, "Don't worry about anyone thinks. If that was MY son, I know I'd be climbed right up there in the bed with him." I knew she understood how I was feeling.
      She and I were alone for a while that evening, sitting in chairs next to the bed.  I started asking her about what might happen with Josh? She explained that should Josh’s heart stop, unless I directed them to do otherwise, they would have to try to revive him, which would involve chest compressions and shocks with the heart paddles. She said it might not even be possible, but if they did get his heart going again, it would probably just fail again in a few moments because all of his other organs were in failure.
     They had already told me Josh would never wake up, never breathe on his own, never move or talk, or even open his eyes. Should he, by some miracle, somehow survive cardiac arrest (they were sure he would not), this torture that I saw him in would be the best we could ever hope for. The most important parts of his brain (breathing, etc..) had been damaged and would never work again. My secret rationale that "if he never woke up and had to stay this way, well that would be ok too, because at least he'd still be here and I'd simply care for him as if he were a baby" was starting to falter as I looked at my poor son, lying there suffering. Could I condem him to a life of bed sores and feeding tubes?
      How can I tell you of the pity I felt for my boy during those moments? My golden, big-hearted, special boy..he will never return. And what is left of him is now tortured with tubes and wires…lingering near death. How wonderful this nurse was..I weep as I write this..she cried right along with me and I knew she understood the decision I was faced with. She helped me to know it was alright to let go. It was the most loving thing I could do for him.  I told her I felt that he was suffering, and that if God came for him, I would not resist. God sent me that wonderful woman to be my voice of reason, when all reason had left me.

     That evening Josh began to run a high temperature.

      No matter what they did it would not come down, and Barb explained to me that the part of his brain that controlled body temperature was gone. I asked for  icepacks, and for a basin of icewater, and cloths to cool him with. For hours we stood at his bedside, sponging him with the icewater, I was so desperate..he was so hot. I'd never felt anyone as hot as this, it was like he was on fire. My poor baby was suffering.  Nothing helped, but we continued to try.

      By 3AM my legs began to give out and I felt as though I was going to faint. I had been standing for days, my feet and ankles were swollen 3 times their normal size, and I knew if I didn't lie down, I was going to fall down. I didn't want to leave Josh's side, but I had to get off my feet, just for an hour. I made them promise to get me in an hour, I simply could not stand anymore. My legs would no longer support me. Everyone else had left the hospital over the past few days and rested and showered, but I had not left for one moment and I had no strength left. I felt so guilty, but I had to lie down.

     I collapsed on one of the couches in the waiting room, and within 15 minutes Angie, Josh’s girlfriend came and woke me to say that his vitals were slowing, and the nurse said he was getting ready to go. I ran back to the room, and looked at the screen, and saw all the numbers were slowly coming down.
      Barb said “Go now quickly, and talk with your family, and decide if you want us to try to revive him if he should go.” I ran to the waiting room, and some were saying “Don’t you let him die, you make them do what they have to do,” and some were saying “It’s ok”..my head was spinning, I was on my way back to the room when a nurse came running down the hall yelling, "Get down here now!"  I got to the door and the whole crash team was in his room looking at me... his heart had stopped while I was down the hall. The nurse was yelling at me, “You have to decide now!!’…..I thought of how sick he was and I just couldn’t bear the thought of them shocking him and beating on his chest…I just cried “Leave him alone!!!…" and I collapsed right there in the hallway.

     Barb got me a chair, and Angie, his girlfriend, was crying and reassuring me that it was ok, that she was there and he gone peacefully. I felt so awful that I had not been there, and then part of me thought I could not have withstood seeing it. I didn’t know what to feel. Barb removed all the tubes and things, and tucked him into the bed, and then I got to go in and hold him, and I just remember saying “I’m so sorry honey, I didn’t know what else to do.” I hoped that he understood and forgave me for letting him go, but I couldn’t see him suffer any more. These moments will remain forever frozen in my memory. No mother should ever be faced with such a choice. However can we survive it?

     At Josh’s funeral, the children placed small mementos in with him, as did some of the adults. The last thing was his baby blanket, which I placed over him, tucking him in for the very last time. A piece of me went into that box with him. I don’t think I will ever be the same.