Today makes five months since my son passed. All my life I was blessed with great health, healthy kids and healthy grandkids. Never had any kind of serious, earth shattering issues. Until this year. I just knew this was going to be my year. After all, 13 was my lucky number. That went to hell in a hand basket real quick. In February, I started having severe sciatic nerve pain. For two solid months, I had 24/7 excruciating pain in my right buttock. Long story short, herniated disc. I got a epidural steroid injection towards late April. All that time, I just didn't think life could be any worse. Until April 28th at 12:05pm. I got a call that my youngest son, who was 25 years old, was being rushed to the hospital unresponsive. The hospital was about an hour and a half drive from me. I drove like a maniac to get there. When I got there, I learned that he had been at a party and ate a fentanyl pain patch and he had severe brain damage. He was on life support for sixteen days. We took him off on May 13th and he died May 25th. What makes it all so hard to deal with is that he went home that night to his Dad's, he went to sleep on the couch in the living room. Nobody realized anything was wrong with him until about noon the next day. His Dad told the doctor that he woke up about 2:30 or 3:00am and heard him snoring funny but didn't think anything of it. The doctor said that was probably when he asphyxiated. It's so hard to let go when you feel like something could have been done to save him. And the guilt of taking him off life support eats me alive. I always wonder what if. What if we gave him more time, what if I had asked more questions, what if his Dad had just freaking checked on him!
We all lose loved ones. I've lost a lot over the years. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, compares to losing your child. Tonight is a bad night. I miss my son. I love him and I miss him and I want him back!!