Last night I got a message at second hand from our friend Kelly that her husband, Steve, had a massive heart attack Monday night, and was in the CCU at Saint Agnes’ Hospital in Baltimore. Today I spoke with Kelly and learned that Steve’s EEG is nearly flat, and there’s no hope he’ll recover. She has to make a decision by Friday about when to turn off life support; she’s temporizing, trying to wait for the more nearby parts of her family to get there for support, as well as the one cousin who’s all that’s left of Steve’s family. This is a shock to everyone, because Kelly has had congestive heart failure for some years, while Steve has never showed any signs of heart disease. Everyone, including Kelly, expected that this would be the other way round, with Steve deciding when to discontinue life suipport for her someday.
Kelly and Steve are some of our longest-term friends as a couple; we met them soon after we joined Mensa in 1985. We’ve been cohorts and co-conspirators for years in stitchery, old-house living, and many other things. We just missed connections this summer when they passed through Austin on a transcontinental motor-home vacation to the West coast. Now Kelly is beating on herself because we didn’t get to see them, although L and I have both told her that was nothing to repine about, since we all knew we’d be going up to Maryland in a year or so to go to L’s class reunion, and could see them then.
L talked to Kelly tonight, and agreed to come up for several days’ visit in late August. Kelly has figured out, wisely, that what she’s most likely to need is just plain company, someone to listen while she rattles on, as she puts it. And at the same time, L can help with some of the inevitable hauling-away of unneeded Stuph that has to happen when anyone dies.
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