On the morning of February 04, 2012 my husband Steve and I set off for Bellingham, Washington, approximately 50 miles from our Delta home, to do some cross border shopping. Our door to Costco, could be done in under an hour, if waits at the border were short. It was a bright, sunny winter day. As we travelled south, we both marveled at the majestic, snow covered Mount Baker, glistening in the sunshine. It was a lovely drive, with me knitting, and Steve behind the wheel.
After our shop, we ate lunch, and went to line up at the Costco gas bar. While waiting, I noticed Steve’s eyes closed and his head tilted down. I said, “What are you doing? What’s wrong?” He responded to my question, but his words were garbled and didn’t make sense. At this point, Steve was still behind the wheel; his foot still on the brake. I put the car in park, went around to the driver’s side of the car to assist him to the passenger side. I waved the car behind us to go around. The lady asked if I needed some help. Two other good Samaritans were quickly assisting as well. These helpers suggested calling 911 and Steve very clearly said, “No”. Once he was safely seated in the passenger seat, I took off for the I-5, heading north.
I was thinking to myself, what could this be, a seizure, a stroke? I was just so thankful, that whatever this was, it did not happen while driving quickly on the two-lane highway or on the busy Guide Meridian at noon on a sunny Saturday. The angels were protecting us once again, as it happened at a standstill in the Costco gas bar line up and no one else was affected. I pictured what would have happened if 911 had been activated on the state side of the border. We would have been taken to Seattle for care-far away from all our supports, family and friends.
I made good time to the border. I then used the border wait to write Steve’s medical history on the back of the Costco receipt. Every moment was precious. At the border crossing the officer looked in the car as Steve appeared to be asleep. He asked,” is he asleep?“ I responded with, “I think he has had a neurological event.“ What a weird response I thought later, but I did not know what had actually happened, and with my nursing background that was what my gut was telling me. The officer then asked, if he could call me an ambulance. I said, “ I think I can have him to Peace Arch hospital before an ambulance would arrive.” We got to the emergency room at Peace Arch and I ran in for assistance. Two nurses came out with a wheelchair and together we got Steve into the ER.
I gave my report to the doctor and nurse. By the time I got back from moving my car, Steve was in having a CAT scan. The results were not good, he had a massive clot in his right carotid artery. At this point a clot was better news then a brain bleed. He was a candidate to receive the “clot-buster” medication. It was administered within the optimal three-hour window. Now it was a matter of watching and waiting. I asked the nurse, if the medication worked, what would it look like? He told me, the medication working would result in a fully functioning left side.
While waiting for this miracle to occur, I called our children. Adam was not answering; he was playing football. I did eventually get through to his girlfriend, Jamie, who then relayed my message.
Alicia, who was in Edmonton, arranged a flight home for that evening. I was not alone for long. Adam, Jamie, Josh and Larry were soon with me. I made some calls and soon friends were with us. Our dear friend Shelly Wager, picked Alicia up at the airport and delivered her to us at Peace Arch.
Stacey, a longtime friend from nursing school, Donna, a friend from high school and Alicia’s Godmother, and Val, another long time friend, joined our expanding support group. We felt so blessed to be surrounded by such good friends.
Late Saturday night, after Steve had been transferred to the ICU, we went home for some rest after a nightmare of a day. We felt confident that Steve was in good hands. We were praying for a miracle. One comfort for me, was that the house was full with my kids and their friends.
Day 2 -Sunday, February 5 was Jamie’s birthday and Super Bowl Sunday. We arrived at Peace Arch ICU family room with provisions, Kleenex, (the soft kind), water, snacks, phone charge cords, and books. We were in for the long haul. Kathy, a longtime friend from Nursing school and Adam’s Godmother, was waiting for us; Her flight that had been cancelled, she redirected to Vancouver. What a friend; We were well supported. The plan was to meet with the doctor in the afternoon. Adam asked if this meeting could take place after he and Jamie went to a birthday celebration he had arranged for Jamie, with a cake and friends. The day was spent taking turns popping into see Steve. Adam said “Dad and God were in re-negotiations as his 22-year contract was up”. Using sports terminology, added a bit of humour to the tragic situation.
Memories flooded back to me from 22 years earlier, a different ICU waiting room, when Steve’s life hung in the balance. January 25, 1990, Steve had slipped in the shower, knocking the cold water off with his shoulder. He had third degree burns over 45 percent of his body. The major difference between these two situations was that in 1990, I had a 10-month old baby and a 3½ year old. Now 2012, 22 years later, I was being comforted and supported by these now adult children. Lots of tears were shed as we waited anxiously for some positive news, also lots of laughter too, as we shared stories of our loving, strong, husband, father, and friend.
Late Sunday afternoon, Adam and Jamie arrived back to the crowded ICU family room. Many friends had joined us and we alerted the doctor that we were prepared to meet. We met as a group, Kathy, Alicia, Adam, Jamie and I. The doctor explained the results of the latest CT scan. No change to the blood clot, the medicine had not done anything. The clot was so large starting in his neck and going deep into his brain.
His brain was already showing signs of atrophy (shrinking due to decreased blood flow). Neurologically, there was no change to his paralyzed left side.
Now the big question was, to resuscitate or not? This was a decision we all had to make together. Not one I wanted to be responsible for making alone. Adam said to the doctor, “you do not know my Dad, he has one speed and it is fast and if can’t be that person he would not want to survive”. So tearfully, we made the horrific decision to make Steve a DNR, do not resuscitate. In all honesty, it was the right decision, but not one you ever really want to make. Adam was right, Steve would have hated living if he could not be himself, a fast walking, busy, independent hard-working individual.
We returned to the waiting room to our group of friends. It was a very emotional time as we shared our news or lack thereof. We all joined hands in prayer.
To be honest I don’t remember a lot of the specifics of the next couple of days. There were lots of phone calls, prayers, and visits. Wendy and Jim arrived home early from their Mexican vacation, to offer their support. Friends of the kids came to visit them at the hospital. There were no changes in Steve’s condition. He was in a semi-comatose state; we were getting little or no reaction when we visited. The days were long and the same; long waits in the waiting room and little sleep at night. Our bed seemed huge, being in it alone.
Day 5, Wednesday, was an interesting day. By then Justin, Alicia’s partner, had arrived from Edmonton, so she had her supportive partner. The ICU nurse was wonderful, so caring and compassionate, crying with me while I sobbed. At one point the nurse who was washing his face, commented on how nice his skin was for his 57 years, I laughed telling the nurse he actually looked the same thirty years earlier.
In the afternoon, the nurse said, “Marilyn you’ve got to see this”. I went to the window where she stood and there in the distance was an incredible vivid double rainbow. I was not sure what to make of this but felt this was a sign, but of what? I thought he’s going to die soon. I knew there was a Biblical meaning, but could not remember what the significance was. I was so tired and numb.
We all left the hospital early that evening as Wendy had organized with the kids to have a home-cooked meal. A large group of us ate dinner together, cousins and friends. Steve’s absence was huge and felt by all, but being together at home and eating a good home cooked meal was awesome. The kids cleaned up the kitchen, which is where Steve would have been, behind the scenes, putting everything away. Later that evening, we all sat together listening to music, going through photo albums, crying, laughing, and sharing. We were planning Steve’s service. Even though those words were not said, we knew this to be the truth. Reality was setting in. Alicia shared a very moving tribute that she had been working on. It was a wonderful bonding time. I slept fitfully that night and at 4:30 am I woke up having heard Steve’s voice calling me in my dreams.
Thursday, February 9, I was up early to tidy up a bit, some dear friends/ co-workers were coming to visit. Bal, Tracey and Yandel arrived with a care package, so thoughtful of these great friends. I received a phone message from my brother Stephan, who had been out to Peace Arch early in the morning and reported that Steve was awake. I thought he must be wrong or crazy. I phoned and spoke to the nurse, she reported that when she was doing her routine neuro-vitals and assessment she asked Steve to move his arm, he did not so she raised her voice and repeated the command. To her shock and surprise he said, “I’m not deaf you know!” These words were the exact response we would have expected from Steve, sarcastic and cheeky.
We raced out to the hospital to see for ourselves. I felt so very guilty having spent the previous evening planning a service and now he was awake! The double rainbow, from the day before, was no doubt a sign. He was definitely awake and could communicate. He greeted us appropriately with a smile and could answer simple questions. I explained what had happened to him and he cried. He had lost five days. He told me he loved me. We could see how hard talking was for him, so he starting using a thumbs -up for yes.
On one of the previous days, Alicia had said to me, “I just want to see his blue eyes,” as she cried. Not knowing what to say to console her, I came up with,” look in the mirror, you didn’t get your beautiful blue eyes from me.” Well, now she got to see Steve’s blue eyes for herself, as we all did. We kept his wakefulness to ourselves, not knowing for how long we would have this miracle, also not wanting to share him. This time was so precious. It was very obvious that communicating during these visits was exhausting for him; Sometimes we just sat holding hands. I read him the twenty third Psalm which he carried in his wallet. We cried together. Adam brought Jamie, Josh and Larry to witness this miracle. When Adam announced he was there, Steve said “Hey Buddy” a pet name since childhood, then when Adam said who was with him he didn’t just get a thumbs-up, Steve raised his arm up in the air in recognition of Adam’s dear friends who had stood by us in the bleakest of times. Adam asked him how he was doing, he raised his arm, threw out a thumbs up and shook his arm enthusiastically, to insinuate he was doing great.
Steve’s sister, Carol, arrived from Alberta and she too witnessed our miracle man. Since his remarkable recovery in 1990, she has often referred to him as her “Miracle brother”.
Now that Steve was back with us, we had a different conversation with the doctor. This was a much easier chat. “He’s awake, yes, feed him.” The feeds were started but his body did not tolerate this nourishment.
We had him with us from Thursday morning until Saturday afternoon. It was such an amazing time. God knew we all needed to say one last, “I love you,” and “good bye”. We were all so thankful for the special gift we were given. Another brain CT scan was done. Despite the wakefulness, his brain was more atrophied and the clot remained unchanged. By Sunday afternoon he was in a coma and his breathing had become labored as pneumonia set in.
Sunday evening, Feb 12, Stacey had the whole gang of us over for a home cooked dinner. We shared our miracle of the past week with Stacey and family, it was a lively relaxing evening, with almost a bit of normalness to it. Later that night we went out to the airport to pick up my cousin Jeananne. She had flown from Calgary to Edmonton and picked up Alicia’s dog, Beaner, bringing her for Alicia. Alicia was so happy to have her little buddy during this emotional nightmare.
Monday, February 13 (Justin’s Birthday). Steve’s breathing sounded like some kind of machine. Sounded like something between a lawn mower and an airplane engine. Jeananne, Adam, Josh and I stayed over, as it seemed like the end was nearing. Around 7:15 pm the energy in the room changed, this is when I believe his soul left his body. There was no other way to describe the change. The nurse brought in a mat for the floor, so we could rest. We had music playing in the room, his old favourite love songs. We chatted and stayed near throughout the night. I asked the nurse to give Steve whatever medication he was allowed to have, as often as he was allowed to have it. I could only imagine what dying of pneumonia might feel like. I imagine it might be like drowning. I vowed to him, if I could lessen his discomfort, I would.
Valentine’s Day, we had a couple giant heart balloons in the room. The doctor came to see me. I was over the top distraught listening to and watching Steve die. I said to the doctor, “we treat our animals better then we treat our humans”. We agreed to disagree. He suggested I go home and get some rest, as I had been up all the previous night. We did go home and we sat in the living room as the sun set, chatting and dozing together.
On the afternoon of February 16 the palliative care social worker called me and asked if there was anything she could do for us, I asked if she could get an ink pad and make a copy of Steve’s right thumb print. I knew I would want to use this to make a “Thumbie”, a three dimensional piece of jewelry from the print on the paper. She assured me she could do this for us. Steve’s work place had organized a fundraiser lunch and had over $650 for us. I allocated this money to pay for our Thumbie medallions. We each wear one around our necks on a chain. This is even more special knowing he was alive when the print was made and knowing how important his thumb was in our communication.
Steve had many visitors. His friend Ron, from Kelowna, spent many hours at his bedside. His brother, Carl, came from Kimberly, sat with him, for many days. His cousin, Richard, and his girlfriend, Dorothy, popped in and out regularly. Work mates from Costco, came and went. Our family was emotionally drained. My eyes felt permanently swollen. The doctor said that the reason Steve lasted many days with the pneumonia, was because he was only 57 years old and had a healthy heart and lungs.
Steve Arthur Quinn Nicholson took his last breath at 4:30 am on February 18, 2012. Two weeks from the first symptom of the stroke.
The next week was spent preparing to honour him at his wonderful celebration of life.
We celebrated his life on Saturday February 25, 2012 at Gilmore Park United Church. Ron Legary officiated. We sang a few of Steve’s favourite hymns. Many people spoke including Bob Bradley, a cousin of mine, Richard Percy, Steve’s cousin, Jeananne read the poem Footprints, a co-worker from Costco told some funny work related stories, his friend Linda Friesen read scripture. The church was overflowing; Steve would have been so embarrassed. Brother in law Jim made an emotionally moving slide show presentation to the song Over the Rainbow, Hawaiian version and Endless Love, which had been the first dance at our wedding. Alicia read her tribute and followed it with the playing of a song she had chosen. Adam shared our miracle. He told our story, and ended it by asking everyone to give Steve a “thumbs up”.
I have never been more proud of my two incredible children. I know their Dad was too. My sister Wendy read some words from the family. I put my thoughts to paper and she read mine for me too. I could not begin to imagine doing this.
Everyone who attended took home a business card with Steve’s name and birthdate on one side and the Optimist Creed on the reverse side. Steve carried this creed in his wallet and tried to live it every day. Over the years since Steve’s death I have had many people tell me they keep it in their wallet or on their fridge and see it regularly and think of him.
As I conclude the writing of our story, I am sitting outside enjoying the sunshine. The date is May 22, 2017 on what would have been our 35th wedding anniversary.
Life has moved on: Alicia and Justin had a baby boy December 20, 2014. Dorian Quinn. At birth Dorian looked a bit like his Grandpa. He has his Grandpa’s curls and hair colouring.. He looks a lot like his beautiful Momma and as she did as a toddler.
Adam and Jamie got engaged in July 2014. Their beautiful beach wedding took place August 13, 2015 in Cabo Mexico. They make a stunning couple. We shed tears together, not having Steve there to share in the joy. So thankful that Steve knew Jamie and her family and he loved them too.
Throughout our ordeal we have learned that life is short, one never knows what tomorrow will bring. I feel I am now more vocal telling friends / family how much they mean to me. Don’t hold back, tell them before you are honouring them at a celebration of their life. We are very rich with friendships, so many special people who helped us throughout our journey and continue to enrich our lives. I have also learned there is not just one way to grieve and there is no deadline to when this period of time will conclude. I do know that as time passes the moments we remember do not as often bring tears.
I will share a stitchery I made after my Father’s death and it says:
We as a family have many treasures to cherish.
