The Birth, Brief Life and Eternity of Love cont...
Steve and I had so many dreams and made so many wonderful plans for our future. Life was so good and I was happier than I had ever been. My son had some problems adjusting to the move, but he was happy. It meant the world to my son to have such a loving, healthy family and he loved Steve like a dad. Everything was going right and it seemed as though nothing could ever come between us, as I knew this love would last forever!
After living together for 6 months, my world began to tumble down around me. Steve became ill and was admitted to the hospital. We were told that his appendix had ruptured, but everything would be okay after they did surgery. After the surgery, my son and I were at the hospital every day and night. We only left long enough for me to work and my son to attend school. On the 3rd day of Steve's hospitalization, I began to worry, as he was not doing well at all. He began having difficulty breathing and the nurses were neglecting him. Upon my arrival at the hospital that day, Steve told me that they would not even bring him a drink of water.
He could not get out of bed, due to the severe pain he was in and he was also becoming extremely bloated. I talked with the nurses and told them that something wasn't right. They assured me that he was okay and just needed to get out of bed and walk, even though I told them that he could not get out of bed. Like an idiot, I trusted them, as that is what I have been programmed to do.
When I arrived to the hospital for my 2nd visit on the 4th day, Steve was failing fast. By this time, he began talking out of his head and having extreme breathing difficulty. A nurse's aide had put a re-breather mask on him the prior day, but he would not leave it on, telling me that they were trying to kill him. I explained that he had to wear it in order to get the oxygen he needed, but he insisted he could not breathe. Why didn't I "hear" him? I was very worried, but felt the staff knew what they were doing. I left that night, only to be called back an hour later. The nurse said Steve had pulled his IV and was wandering into other patients rooms. My son and I went back to the hospital and spent the night.
In the wee hours of the morning, Steve's breathing was worsening by the minute, and he was losing control of his bodily functions. I went to the nurse's station and told them that his oxygen saturation needed to be checked, as they were not doing this on a regular basis. His sats were down to 40, when they should be between 95-100. I began yelling at the nurses to intubate him; they refused, only telling him to stop panting like a puppy dog. I was irate and in a panic!
I could not believe no one was listening to me, as I was running in and out of the room screaming, "SOMEONE PLEASE HELP HIM!" This was the last time Steve would witness my spunk. Apparently the nurse's aid that hooked up the re-breather oxygen mask had not filled the bag with oxygen, he was breathing carbon dioxide. These people that I was supposed to trust were suffocating him! 
Steve's life came to an end that morning, and I felt as if my life and his wonderful love had also come to an end. It has taken me almost 3 years to grieve his death and at times I wasn't so sure I would survive. As impossible as it was to realize then, I now know that true love never dies. His physical body may be gone, but his love will live on in my heart forever.
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