Funeral Expenses

Hello. My name is Carl. I'm Jennifer's husband of 25 years. It is with a heavy, grief-filled heart and tears coursing down my face that I write this. My soulmate Jennifer, my beautiful shining angel, passed from this cruel world on August 27th at 10:16 pm.  I quit my job February 22nd and exhausted my savings throughout this whole ordeal. I don't have the resources available to bury my beloved as is her due. Living paycheck to paycheck, not many people do. But small donations, from lots of people can. If Jen touched your life in some way, helped to ease the pain or anguish then please help her. She was such a beautiful person who helped so many people that she deserves a final resting place.

Here is a synopsis of our story:

     Jennifer was a kind and caring person both inside and out. She had an ephemeral quality that drew in hurt and grieving souls and offered them comfort, solace, and peace. People oft-times describe this as, "giving the shirt off your back." She did this more times than I can count but with her it went far, far beyond simple material things... She was an empath. She attracted lost souls - those with grief-stricken hearts, people filled with pain and torment, individuals floundering in chasms of the deepest, darkest despair. She believed in them and in turn, they started to believe in themselves again. Jennifer had an abundance of love and never failed to use it for those in need. She taught me that love really does heal all.

     Jennifer fell gravely ill on February 8th, 2019. Whenever she took a bite of food, her stomach would churn in agony. A sip of water felt akin to a knife in the belly. She stopped eating and drinking. Who wanted to eat or drink when the pain from such was all-consuming? At this point, without the proper vitamins, minerals, and nutrients, her body started its final decline. Her strength started to wan. A trip to the bathroom was strenuous at first. Then it became scary, her legs were so wobbly. Until finally she just couldn't any longer. Every year for the past decade or longer, she had been in the hospital for a week or two battling against fevers and failing body parts. She was tired of the constant pain from blood draws and IV ports. On February 22nd, 2019, she was admitted to Aurora's Lakeland hospital. At this point, unknown to us, one of her major organs had begun failing. It was the beginning of the end for my beautiful angel.

     I had to quit my job. My wife, my soulmate, my everything, was struggling for her life and I had to be there to help, to comfort, to soothe away the fear and anxiety. The doctors poked and prodded, tested and analyzed, consulted specialists and started new treatments. All for naught.

     I was with her constantly or perhaps I should say, as much as I could be. After all, I still had a family to care and provide for. My older son Cody, rose to the challenge, shelving his wants and needs and selflessly taking care of his younger twelve year old sister, Lily. To Jen and I, he was a shining beacon in a sea of uncertainty and hopelessness. It brought us comfort and peace of mind to see him transformed into a true man. To me, Cody has a huge piece of his mother within him - he is kind, caring, sympathetic but most of all, he is filled with love. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all.

     With such a responsible man at home, I could then focus on what was truly important, Jennifer. When I was not allowed to sleep at her beside, I slept in my car if home was too far away. Surely the doctor's had discovered what was wrong by now. My hopes were constantly shattered every day. Guess they had more important endeavors to pursue, you know, a golf outing, a dinner date and movie, or maybe just a book and early bed... Let's keep things in perspective though, this wasn't their wife or mother laying there now was it. This was, after all, only a nine to five job for them. Right? I observed it first-hand, day in, day out. My heart was rent asunder. I started searching medical texts, doing research online. I am an intelligent man, a college graduate, there had to be an answer. Yet, could I find it? More importantly, could I find it in time? 

     By now, Jennifer was admitted to The Atrium, a Post Acute Care and Rehabilitation Facility. You see, the two major hospitals we had been in up to this point had pumped her full of antibiotics until whatever condition she had receeded enough for them to kick her out the door. The Atrium was the only place that Jen truly liked. The nurses were kind and caring, the staff helpful and respectful, the decor bright and cheerful, the facility clean. Jen was happy here. She was working with Physical Therapy every day and had relearned how to stand. She was even beginning to take a few steps. The stomach pain continued however. The hospitals still had not figured out what was wrong. Two laymen, my wife and I, discovered what was wrong after two major hospitals systems could not. With all their expensive equipment, testing, doctors and specialists, they could not find out this poor woman had non-alcohol related cirrhosis of the liver - a rather common disease. Treatable and manageable if found early enough. Unfortunately, it was nearing end stage. The hospitals had failed her - completely and utterly. We were devastated. I promised her I would be there till the end.  You see, my word is my vow. I'm old school. If I make a promise, I will fulfill it. No doubt at all. Getting harder and harder to find that in the world these days.  

     We wound up at Mercy Walworth next but were only there for two days. Out of all the hospitals I've been at with Jen, this one was the best. Every step, no matter where it was, was run professionally and comfortably with sincere kindness and empathy. This hospital turned out to be too small to deal with the level of care Jen now needed though. Off to Froedtert Milwaukee we went. 

     Froedtert is so big, it's akin to a small city. Jen wound up in the Transplant ICU or TICU. They were going to go through with the charade of seeing if she was a candidate for a liver transplant. Standard protocol for someone arriving with cirrhosis I guess. They do an intake evaluation when patients arrive so I'm pretty sure they knew she was nearing, if not at end stage cirrhosis by that time. After a week and a half, they rendered their decision - NOT A CANDIDATE FOR TRANSPLANT. Jen's pain had been increasing exponentially each day. The normal pain meds weren't working. She couldn't take it any longer and needed a release. The pain had to end. We'd been looking at Comfort Care for the past couple days. We both looked silently into each others eyes, tears streaming down our faces. This was the real beginning of the end. We hugged for the last time, each clinging desperately to the other, both of us sobbing uncontrollably. I called the nurse for some stronger pain meds. She came with them and the DNR order I was forced to sign. After I penned my signature to the Do Not Resuscitate order, the nurse administered the meds via IV. Jen's sigh of relief was almost palpable. 

   She had held off for so long. I was proud of her. I still am proud of her for hanging on until there was absolutely no shred of hope left. My little trooper... always. Am I mad? No not really. Anger? Still so far from the mark. Rage? Getting closer. Antipathy? Almost there. RAGE! Seething, boiling, frothing... pure unadulterated rage. 

    August 27th, 2019. They are preparing my beloved for her final journey via ambulance to the last home she will ever know on this earth - The Atrium. Now that she's on Comfort Care, they want her out of the hospital as fast as possible. I'm incredibly relieved to soon be leaving this jungle of indifference and uncaring. Except for a few nice nurses and one lion of a social worker, this has not been a nice place.
 
     I sprint down the hallways and to my car racing as fast as I dare to The Atrium. I'm waiting when she arrives and she is terrified because of the ride. I spend the next seven hours holding her hand, stroking her brow and offering her words of comfort and support. Bereft. Riven. Torn asunder. I was going mad. And yet, she saw none of it. I put on a brave face and held steadfast, talking non-stop so she couldn't think of anything else, telling her of the immense love that I've always had for her, reliving good memories, being with her in her time of need, loving her. At 10:16 pm, she left this world and passed on to a better place.  

     This is a brief synopsis of our story of love. Much has been excluded for the sake of brevity. There are many spiritual, psychic, and paranormal occurrences that I omitted from this telling because I am logical and scientific. I don't understand them. They don't make sense to me. Jen changed me. She made me a better person and deserves no less. I owe her a debt of gratitude I can never repay. The story you just read is real. It is my recollection to the best of my ability.