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From: crn on 18 Mar 2010 22:35 Owen <pericles(a)ntlxxworld.com> wrote: > Marina slipped away at 2 minutes before midnight. Condolences to all concerned. -- 03 GS500K2 76 Honda 400/4 project 68 Bantam D14/4 Sport (Classic) 06 Sukida SK50QT (Slanty eyed shopping trolley)
From: Mark Olson on 18 Mar 2010 22:50 Owen wrote: > Marina slipped away at 2 minutes before midnight. Condolences on your loss, Owen.
From: Fr Jack on 18 Mar 2010 23:12 Owen <pericles(a)ntlXXWorld.com> banged this out on the bongos: >Marina slipped away at 2 minutes before midnight. Buggeration! Condolences, mate. -- Fr. Jack I hear you talking but the words are kinda strange
From: Owen on 18 Mar 2010 23:19 > >I'm sitting here in bed with a small Irish whiskey. I don't know >what I'm meant to feel. I spose I'm feeling a bit numb and soupy. >Not nervous breakdown soupy, just a bit strange. >I can't really take it all in. It all seems so unreal. 2 1/2 hrs >ago I was helping to change Marina and now she's not here. >We changed her and were trying to settle her on her left side. >We realised we needed to change her again. I know this isn't pretty, but I need to sort this out. > >We cleaned her up and rolled her onto her other side. Her breathing >had been bubbly due to fluid in her throat. As we settled her on her side I noticed she wasn't taking in any air, her chest wasn't rising. I could see a tiny amount of her eyes, her eyelids weren't fully closed. Her skin changed colour, almost like flicking a switch. "We've lost her, haven't we?" >Everything went quiet, we all stopped moving. >I got no immediate answer. I looked at the nurses. >"She might start breathing again" came the reply. >Marina was looking waxy. I now know what that means. >"You don't really believe that do you?" >I saw the look they gave each other and knew Marina was gone. >"She's gone isn't she?" >The nurses said how sorry they were. The oxygen machine was switched >off and the room took on a silence I'd never heard there before. >I asked them to leave us alone and make the necessary phone calls >they needed to make. -- O Life... mostly works...
From: Owen on 18 Mar 2010 23:42
She died in my arms and I didnt even realise it until after she'd gone. I cried for a bit. I took off her ring and her watch and phoned her daughters, sister, my sister and my parents. I said goodbye, gave her a hug and a kiss. I covered her up all snugly, just her face showing so she would be warm and sleep well. I made sure her eyes were closed, put a penny in her hand to se her on her way, switched off the lights and walked out of the room. -- O Life... mostly works... |