“Would you boys like tea?”
“I couldn’t wake him up this morning”.
“Sixty years we have been married, next week.”
“Do either of you take sugar?”.
I had to sit her down.
To tell her he was dead.
“Would you boys like tea?”
“I couldn’t wake him up this morning”.
“Sixty years we have been married, next week.”
“Do either of you take sugar?”.
I had to sit her down.
To tell her he was dead.
beetleypete 
Denial is bliss. I can imagine her trying to put it off until she could. I was the same when my father told me about my ex husband’s death. I continued chatting like nothing had happened. He had to make me really listen…”he’s dead. He was shot dead”…I was like, “Of course, I heard you.” After he hung up the phone, I’m not sure what happened, I was ironing the same dress until there were holes in it. I remember opening the door for my brother. I’m not sure if I closed it, if I ate anything or I slept. I was numb with shock.
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Denial when faced with such news is a surprisingly common reaction, Shaily. I completely understand why you kept on ironing that dress.
Best wishes, Pete.
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I love how you’re taking your EMT stories and turning them into short thoughts. Powerful!
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Thanks, Jennie. They do seem to have more impact than reading the longer versions.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Each has an impact, but in different ways. Best to you, Pete.
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More often such curiosity happens. Dementia is not as easy, these days. Lets hope we personally never have to deal with this. Best wishes, Michael
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I don’t think she had dementia, Michael. Just the shock of waking up to find her husband dead in bed. Easier for her to deny that, than to face the reality that morning.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Oh, sorry for the misunderstanding, Pete! For sure after such a long time together one is not able realising this truth. Michael
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Wow. She didn’t know? So sad.
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The chances are she did know, and didn’t want to face the reality. Having an ambulance crew tell you has a certain finality, Susanne.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Dealing with another person’s realities and denials is not easy, Had you not told her, someone less compassionate might have. Warmest regards, Theo
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She called an emergency ambulance, presumably hoping we could do something for him. I suspect she knew we couldn’t.
Best wishes, Pete.
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This is touching. I wonder if there could be a series of shorts about your job that you put in a collection. I know you have scattered them so far.
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All the jobs referenced are in my Ambulance Stories category. But of course they are longer posts.
Best wishes, Pete.
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It’s the short pithy ones I meant.
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At least he lives in her memory. Maybe it’s best she doesn’t know?
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Too late. I already told her.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Oh my goodness this is sad.😔
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She was making tea for him when we arrived, and asked me to take his cup into him so he could drink it while I examined him. I was never sure if she didn’t know, or just couldn’t face the reality.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Oh dear
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It happened so often. She was making him a cup of tea when we arrived, and asked us to take it in to him when we went to examine him. Very sad.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Desperately
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that must have been the hardest part of the job.
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It happened so often, but it was never easy. She was making tea for us to take into the bedroom for him too.
Best wishes, Pete.
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A sad job indeed breaking death news. chuq
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We did it all the time of course, but it never got any easier to do.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Sad one.
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We did that all the time. But it never got any easier.
Best wishes, Pete.
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That job might easily cause PTSD years later I would imagine.
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I had always thought I had escaped the worst of that, Stevie. But over the last five years, the memories have come back to haunt me on a regular basis. Fortunately, a few of those memories are also good ones.
Best wishes, Pete.
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If the majority are bad, it might be an idea to talk with a counsellor? Sometimes it can help.
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I wouldn’t say they are bad enough for counselling. They don’t affect my life or wellbeing in any way. But I am more aware of the impact of all the nasty stuff much more so than when I was actually doing it.
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Some of the patients’ lives that I type for are pretty grim, but for me they remain names on paper. It must be worse to actually treat them in person.
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Not everyone realises that we used to go to many of the same people all the time. After the first two years, you begin to know about ten percent of the patients really well. Some of them used to ring 999 and ask for you, by describing what you looked like . But they got whoever was available of course.
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Yes, I get that, as the ambulance comes quite regularly now for our neighbour and then a few years ago for her husband until he died. In the last years of our lives I suppose many of us will do this.
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