It all blurs together. I know it was a roller coaster again. We would be given some crumbs of hope, then confronted with blunt words that left us reeling.
Tuesday September 5- We all came to the hospital. We checked in with Cardiac ICU, we heard no change. We were essentially told to go home, if you stay it's just for you, it's not for him. The team is taking care of him. He had a balloon pump taking on some of the heart's work. He had to be sedated while the pump and ventilator were on. He couldn't talk to us. Go home, they said. We won't be trying to lift sedation for a couple of days, they said. We won't have any new information for a while. Just one person to call. I can't remember who it was then- Adam? already Jake? Jake was the one to make and take calls later in the week for sure.
So Beth and Adam were about to leave, to drive home to Illinois, to collect their families and come back.
Just as they were about to leave, the Good Dr. M arrived. As I recall, he was more optimistic- crumbs of hope.
This was typical of our time here, by the way. We were told to go home, nothing will change- and then there would be a doctor with updates, or there would be a change to report- after we'd been told to go home...
Grateful that they had been able to hear the update, Beth and Adam headed back to Chicagoland to get their families.
Wednesday September 6, Thursday September 7- These days are a blur. At some point, Claire and I got Princess from the Golden's, and met with Aunt Diane, who took over with Princess. At some point, Claire and I sweated bullets waiting for Kevin to arrive from Traverse City, scooting in the pouring rain. At some point, Beth and Danny and Effie and Matan, and Adam and Jenna and Luna caravanned in from Chicagoland, and found a better hotel. At many points, Jacob was waiting in the ICU waiting room, knowing it was for him, for Jacob- but needing to be there nonetheless- and therefore being there when there were updates. We all took turns being there, waiting. We heard scraps of encouraging news. We heard devastating blunt things. At some point, we heard that they brought him out of deep sedation to light sedation (we still couldn't go in) and he was responding to their questions, with nods or finger squeezes. At some point, the cardiologist Dr. NoRelation (his last name being the same last name as Jacob's wife's maiden name) urged us to think of "goals for care" and emphasized that "at his age, he is NOT a candidate for a heart transplant." The balloon pump came out, and a stronger Impel pump went in. Kidney problems. Dialysis. Kidneys responding. Heart resting, heart weak.
At some point, I talked with Jacob's friend rabbi Sarah.
Claire and Kevin and I were staying nights with Beth and Danny's family in their hotel suite. Adam and Jenna spent one night at Rob G's house, and then got their own hotel suite next to ours on Friday.
Friday September 8- I don't remember how this day went. We were taking it in shifts to be there. At some point, we said a Misha Beirach with Rabbi Debbie on a FaceTime call huddled in a room within the larger ICU waiting room.
Jacob brought in a CD player and the Beatles CD library to play in Ken's room. I took off my sweater and had them keep it with Ken. We came in to see him, in groups of two or three. He was sedated. He was swollen from fluid retention. Danny and Beth were tag-teaming with the kids. We were all reminding each other to drink water. We made each other eat food.
Jacob went home to his family for the night. By this time, Jacob was our "one person" who could call or be called. The others went to the hotel suites.
Danny was staying with me for the late shift. For the first time, when we went in to see Ken after official visiting hours, there was hesitation. We'd heard the next day they might try stepping down the stronger pump, see what the heart could do.
The ICU nurses this time were different. They told us to "go home" (home is an hour away or 6 hours away). They said there would be no change. They said, don't even call until around 8:00 am tomorrow, so that the doctors check in, do rounds, so we know more. Go home.
They barely tolerated our last visit, Danny's and mine. Danny drove me to the hotel suite. I showered, read for a few minutes. Tried to sleep.
Saturday September 9- Saturday morning at around 8:00 am, I got a phone call. Are you Lisa Kander? Murray, Ken Kander's wife? Yes, I am. The nurse on the phone identified himself as the ICU nurse with Ken. He asked, Are you here at the hospital? I nearly screamed, you TOLD us to leave, but I didn't say it; instead I said, no, but we can be there in half an hour or so. Yes, come, he said. Then there was hesitation. Ken lost pulse around 7:00 am. We brought back but... he lost pulse. Another pause. He lost pulse for four minutes.
I didn't look it up. I still haven't looked it up. It doesn't matter.
I woke the others up. I called Jacob. I told him to promise he would have someone else drive him to the hospital. I told them what I'd heard. We moved fast. We checked out of the hotel, we made sure the kids were fed and dressed. We went to the hospital as quickly as we safely could.
When we got there, they told us to wait. We waited. We were waiting for Jacob. The Good Dr. M came, before Jacob got there (I later learned that Jacob had heard in a phone call already.) He's gone, he said. You understand? He died about 7:00 this morning. We brought him back, but it's just the machines. We kept them on so you can say goodbye.
It was hard to remember to breathe. It was me, and Adam, and Beth, and Kevin and Claire. Jenna was with Luna. Danny was with the kids. We still were waiting for Jacob. We were stunned.
We were waiting for Jacob, so we could say goodbye.
Jacob arrived, with Jessica who had driven. He already knew.
It's not clear to me now entirely how things progressed after that- how and when Danny and Jenna were told, when and how many of us were in the room with Ken and the machines to say goodbye. Someone asked, Do we want to say the Shema? and I said, yes. We said the Shema. In one way or another, we did our best to say goodbye. We collected the CD player. I asked if my sweater could stay with him, and they said, sure, of course. They tried to give us the hospital-supplied teddy bear "Sir Coughs A Lot" and I felt enraged. That bear is for people who SURVIVE the surgery, who are to press it to their chests when they do the necessary coughing to keep their lungs active. How DARE they?
But I didn't say it.
I also didn't take the bear.
As we were stepping out of the room, a nurse expressed sympathy, and said (essentially) that once we contacted a funeral home, the funeral home would take it from there. Nothing for us to sign. Nothing for us to do.
Go home.
I blinked. I was stunned.
Is there someplace we can go? I asked. Our family? Somewhere private, where we can talk, figure out what is next?
Oh! Sure!
They found a nurse or nurse assistant or someone who looked around and found a corner of a waiting room that was unoccupied while we tried to figure out what to do. How to move. How to breathe.
There was no social worker. There was no offer of a chaplain. There was nothing.
Go home.
We sat. We cried. We talked. Some of us took walks with our person.
I didn't. My person was gone.
Eventually, we decided to drive to Jacob's house to be together. To figure out next steps. To eat, to drink more water. Beth, Danny, Effie and Matan would spend the next night or two at Jacob & Jessica's, while Claire and Kevin, Adam & Jenna, would eventually come home with me.
Jacob and Jessica were fostering kittens. Once our caravan arrived, we had kitten therapy as momma cat and kittens mewed and crawled over us and slept on us. Some one brought food. Jacob pulled out the artisanal cheeses and crackers. We reminded each other to drink water.
We made phone calls. We divided up the list of who would call whom. I called my brother, who was with my sister, as it happened- cleaning my house, and mowing my yard. I'm glad they were together. I called my dad- first, texting Doris his wife to make sure she would be there with him.
The kids handled the other phone calls and emails to notify folks. The kids handled the "business" calls.
Calls about the "arrangements." Calls to my friend Carol, to find out what our options and protocols were in Flint. Calls to the funeral home, to the director of the Beth El section of the cemetery, to the cemetery itself. Calls to our friend rabbi. Rabbi Debbie would come in from Jackson, Mississippi.
Everything was being handled. I am forever grateful.
I don't remember when those of us heading to my house headed out. I don't remember when Aaron B arrived - I don't remember when Rob G arrived- I know they both did.
I don't remember how we got Princess back to our house- I know we did.
I don't remember how I got to sleep. Maybe I didn't. Maybe I just stared at the walls.
I don't remember.
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