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Most Stressful, Emotional Life Event


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Super, super close to my grandfather.  WWII vet, farmer, all around great guy.  Supposedly the 2nd longest funeral procession in Brownwood after Gordon Wood.

Anyway, he got pancreatic cancer the tail end of my senior year in HS.  He fought and fought but lost the battle in November of my freshman year at TX.  I had taken a Greyhound back to Brownwood the weekend in which he was supposed to pass.  He continued fighting, so I borrowed my great aunt's '78 Ford pickup and hauled back to Austin for the week.  I parked the truck in the Memorial Stadium parking lot - assuming that's where one parks w/o a parking pass.  Got to Jester.  Found out he'd passed earlier that evening.  Went back to the truck.  Cried a bit.  Headed back to Brownwood that night.

It was hard at the time; however, the most difficult part was in knowing that I was in my own world at the end of his life.  I mean, senior year, then freshman year at UT.  My lifelong dream.  It was incredibly easy (at the time) to kind of put the situation in the back of my mind.  Still bothers me to this day that I didn't take extra time just to talk to him about WWII, life, the farm, etc... 

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No female shit? Divorce, transition, my wife’s divorce and on and on out the window. Heck my son’s most traumatizing event was the “love of his life” breaking up with him in 9th grade. Chick shit makes the world go round, or crazy. 
 

I’ll say my massage therapist wins the day. She lost her son a long time ago, I don’t know the circumstances. She has two kids a 18 year old daughter too. Her ex husband (father to her two kids) went to prison, I don’t know those circumstances. That all predates me, but since I’ve known her, her ex killed himself and two weeks ago her daughter was killed in a car wreck. Holy fuck man. Holy fucking shitballs. I see her Friday for the first time. I don’t even know what to say or do. 

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37 minutes ago, troph said:

No female shit? Divorce, transition, my wife’s divorce and on and on out the window. Heck my son’s most traumatizing event was the “love of his life” breaking up with him in 9th grade. Chick shit makes the world go round, or crazy. 
 

I’ll say my massage therapist wins the day. She lost her son a long time ago, I don’t know the circumstances. She has two kids a 18 year old daughter too. Her ex husband (father to her two kids) went to prison, I don’t know those circumstances. That all predates me, but since I’ve known her, her ex killed himself and two weeks ago her daughter was killed in a car wreck. Holy fuck man. Holy fucking shitballs. I see her Friday for the first time. I don’t even know what to say or do. 

Damn....

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1 hour ago, DixonHur said:

When I was doing a study abroad in Peru I was on a bus that got hijacked by a terrorist organization and was held captive for like 12 hours high up in the Andes on a dirt road bracketed by high cliffs.

I was beaten and had a gun put in my mouth, and others to my head, while they debated whether or not to kill me because they found my US passport.  After what seemed like forever, the leader decided to spare me because he was afraid killing an American would bring a world of hurt down on them (little did they know we were only a couple of months from 9/11, so they probably would have been fine.

After I was allowed to live I got to watch as they executed others.  I learned later they were killing Peruvian government employees.

Anyway, that was the most stressful/emotional day of my life.

 

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Standing/sitting/kneeling at the bedsides while my FIL, dad, and then mom passed the last few years was actually pretty peaceful.

Back in 2009, two good friends were on AF 447 when it crashed over the Atlantic. They were on that flight so they could join a fun run that I had organized the day before a gathering for our department. I set up at the hotel to the side of reception and met all the rest of the team as they arrived from all over the world and told them about our colleagues and friends. I went to Rio to clean up their affairs after dealing with the immediate issues. That was an extended period of massive stress. Both were good friends, one had just gotten engaged and the other had two young kids. 

That taught me a lot of lessons. One major one is that you don’t matter to the company.  Our company was good to the families and took care of them, but as an entity, the company rolled along. No dip in stock price, etc., etc.  I cleaned up the business matters they were working on and everything just moved on.  

If something happens to you, it will be a blip on your employer’s radar, even if you’re in the C Suite. The company can’t care. But those around you—your friends, your close colleagues, and your family, they matter. Particularly your family. They will be devastated and will never really recover if your plane goes down, if you crash your car, if you drop from a heart attack. So chill out on your self-importance and work accomplishments, and really, truly try to invest in the things that truly matter. 

Reminds me of this song:
 

 

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I was adopted at age 4.  In the family that adopted me, dad abandoned us when I was 9.  I was very close to him, and still thought he might come back.  He never did.  It fucked me up for a long time.

Positives: Made me a better husband and father.  There was no way my kids were ever going to feel that pain.  I also have the license to use dark humor related to fatherhood/ lack thereof, similar to what Macanudo has regarding the loss of a spouse.

He made the choice to leave.  It still hurts, albeit in a much smaller way.  You never get over someone upon whom you are dependent saying, "Fuck you, I'm out."  It has affected my ability to be empathetic towards others at times when they were facing their own family troubles.  I'm like, "Big fucking deal you had an argument with your dad.  At least he's still there."  I've worked on it.  I'll probably never get all the way there on it.

Father's Day used to be a day of crying and sadness.  Even my birthdays sucked as a kid.  Now being a dad is one of my greatest joys in life. Fatherhood is something I cherish second only to being a husband.  I have forgiven him and about 12 years ago when his mom died, I started trying to find him, not so much to reconcile anything, but rather just to tell him I forgave him and just talk.  I didn't want him to necessarily meet my wife and kids, because that would fucking kill me if he started a relationship with them and pulled the same shit.  Yeah, you don't get a cut at my most beloved people on the planet. I got with a few connections related to detective work and bounty hunting( yes, really!)  I got a list of previous addresses and set out on my vacation weeks to research them.  All of them were dead ends except one, in which the next door neighbor came out to understandably ask me what the fuck I was doing.  I explained and he said people matching that description had moved out about 4-5 months prior.

So I've never made contact, nor have I found ANYTHING online related to a death certificate or whatever.  He would be 85 now, and given his junkfood diet, smoking, and generally bad health, it would be miraculous if he was still alive.  I really would like to find something for no other reason than an ounce of closure.  Even in his absence, he had an incredible influence on the man I grew up to be.  I wanted him to know what we went through.  I wanted to hear his side of things too.  I understand at this point, it is virtually impossible.  Maybe not having that last reunion is a blessing in and of itself.  I accept that too.  The rest of it is out of my control.

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1 minute ago, jeevsie said:

But at least you know why he named you Sue.

That song resonates, regardless of how satirical/ comical  it might be.  The naming was on the soul, not necessarily on my belt.

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4 minutes ago, mininghorn88 said:

May 1992.

Jesus Christ man that is a weekend of nightmare man.  Mine pales in comparison, but being my first, I had zero frame of reference (besides stupid depictions on tv). 

I remember they had a bit of an issue bringing him out - and im helplessly watching his pulsemeter on the machine rise and drop, mirroring my anxiety levels, every time they try to do so. 

And when he finally did come out, looking a little purplish, they had all 6 nurses hurriedly massaging every limb of his body to sustain a pulse.  They were so occupied with the fact that they did not explicitly tell us so.  So we had just had this incredible elation from him being delivered, but now coming to the slow realization of the precariousness of his situation.

Of course, shortly later, he was 100% fine, and now is like a goddamn baby oxen...but it was just a wild 24hr of events for me.

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I got a call at work from my brother telling me my Mom had passed unexpectedly. She had just turned 60. It was the strangest most surreal moment of my life and I didn't know how to react. I don't even remember driving home or really much other than the call.

I was obviously sad for many reasons, but the worst was that she would not be here to see my kids grow. We hadn't even told her about our second that was on the way.

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12 minutes ago, mininghorn88 said:

May 1992.

My then wife was expecting our son to be born in late May.  This also coincided with the third birthday of our daughter.  So to avoid having a potential conflict on their respective birthdays we elected to have our daughter's birthday party earlier in the month.  My ex-wife went into labor a couple of days before the birthday party.  No big deal, or so we thought.

I am in the delivery room with her.  She is having a c-section.  Once our son was birthed I was sitting next to the ex comforting her as they took our son to get him cleaned up.  As I am sitting there next to her while the doctor is sewing her up the nurse comes over and matter-of-factorily says, "Your son has a breathing problem and it is not good".  And then walks away.  The doctor quickly looked at her with a "WTF" look on his face.  I just sat there for a moment in a bit of a daze.  They immediately put our son on oxygen since his numbers were so low.  I remember asking the doctor, "Is my son going to die"?  Fortunately my ex was out of it due to the surgery so she was not fully aware of what all was going on.  The nurse did come by later to apologize for the way that she delivered the news.

My son was on oxygen the remainder of that day and overnight.  His levels began to get into the normal range the following day.  So as the day progressed the ex and I felt confident enough in our sons recovery that I should go home to be with our daughter so that I could be there with her for her birthday party.  So Friday night I go home for the Saturday party.  As I am taking a shower Saturday morning I get a call on the phone but I miss it.  As I am getting out of the shower I hear a neighbor banging on our front door.  He tells me that my son has taken a turn for the worse overnight and that they are transporting him to a different hospital.  I drop everything and head back to the hospital.  To compound the situation the doctor on-call had gone into my ex's room to tell her that our son's condition was declining and that they were moving him.  He just then left her there all alone and freaking out and for her to not be able to immediately get me on the phone just made it worse.

I get to the hospital in time to watch them load our son into an ambulance.  They discharge my ex to allow her to go to the new hospital with him.  So she and I follow the ambulance to the different hospital about an hour away.  We rode in silence fearing for the worse.  It was horrible knowing that we had no control and that all we could do was to pray and put trust into the medical staff.

Once at the new hospital by mid-morning, the staff went to work putting all types of sensors on him including applying oxygen once again.  This on a Saturday now.  By late Sunday he was breating on his own and all of his measurables were fine.  Come Monday morning they declared that all is well but would keep him there for a couple of more days just to be certain.  He did just fine the rest of the way.  To be cautious the hospital sent us home with a device that would monitor his breating and pulse.  It was basically a strap with embedded sensors that would wrap around his torso.  The problem with the device is that sometimes it would work loose and would cause a false alarm.  There is nothing like being in full sleep and hearing that alarm go off at night and bolting into his room to check on him.  I believe that the machine caused more harm than good because of the stress that it would put us through when it would go off.

Fast forward to about a year when we decide to no longer put him on the montor partly because not once in the previous time had we received any real alarms but also because of the damage to the machine incurred when my wife burned some baby bottle nipples on the stove (this story is shared in a different thread on Surley).

Our son has turned out just fine; smart (college grad) and physically fit (played football and ran track where he was the anchor leg on all of the relays).  I am trying to get him to do the American Ninja Warrior type stuff because he would excel with it.  Our daughter does not really remember us missing her third birthday party that we left in the hands of good neighbors.  She has turned out great too!

I cannot even imagine how difficult it would be to go through that. 

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10 hours ago, troph said:

No female shit? Divorce, transition, my wife’s divorce and on and on out the window. Heck my son’s most traumatizing event was the “love of his life” breaking up with him in 9th grade. Chick shit makes the world go round, or crazy. 
 

I’ll say my massage therapist wins the day. She lost her son a long time ago, I don’t know the circumstances. She has two kids a 18 year old daughter too. Her ex husband (father to her two kids) went to prison, I don’t know those circumstances. That all predates me, but since I’ve known her, her ex killed himself and two weeks ago her daughter was killed in a car wreck. Holy fuck man. Holy fucking shitballs. I see her Friday for the first time. I don’t even know what to say or do. 

Maybe don't ask for a happy ending this time?  I kid I kid.  

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My brother killed his best friend in a drunk driving accident when I was a freshman at UT. (He was a senior at SWT).

 

I would sometimes drive down to hang with him and his best friend/roommate that first semester of mine in Austin. I was at their apartment that night. They went out partying during dead week. Their phone rang at like 3 or 4 am. I let the machine pick up and it was my mom crying and telling me to pick up the phone. I picked up and she told me my brother was in a bad accident and that his best friend died and that they were on the way down from Dallas to pick me up and go to the hospital.

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Grandpa didn't want me to join the military, actually begged me not to but at 17 you couldn't tell me shit. He died while I was in basic, it fucked me up for a bit. 

I drove from Monterrey to Guadalajara once and got stopped by the local militia protecting the towns out in the mountains. Nothing happened but I was surrounded by some dudes with guns ready for about 15 minutes while they questioned who I was and what I was doing. Still a better interaction than most of the local cops I got stopped by in Mexico though. 

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Man, thinking about this..I have a lot. The first major one was when I was a freshman up at OSU. I was the youngest and left my parents as empty nesters, so they had a lot of space. My uncle (mom's brother and my godfather) from NY was having some marital problems, so they opened their house up for him to stay. He got a job as a chef at a hotel and when I would come home on weekends, he would bring me home steak, lobster, the best of everything and seemed happy and glad to see me.  Was a loud guy, laughed a lot. After a few months, he said he was going to go back to NY, wanted to try to reconcile with my aunt Sissy. My mom, got him a plane ticket, took him to the airport, sent him on his way. A day later I get a call from my dad. He just said "Robert's dead."  That's it..no hello, nothing. I was in shock, just kind of hit the floor.  

Apparently as soon as he landed in NY, got a motel near LaGuardia, drank a bottle of Vodka and hung himself. I KNEW my mom would blame herself for sending him back. I thought her siblings would too.  She was tough, was one of 11 kids from an Irish catholic family in Brooklyn, they never blamed her-apparently he'd been suicidal for a while and none of them shared that. The Irish are weird about things like that.  The worst was when I would come home, he had stayed in my room and I could still smell him in there. He smoked camel no filters and that was in everything.

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13 hours ago, DixonHur said:

When I was doing a study abroad in Peru I was on a bus that got hijacked by a terrorist organization and was held captive for like 12 hours high up in the Andes on a dirt road bracketed by high cliffs.

I was beaten and had a gun put in my mouth, and others to my head, while they debated whether or not to kill me because they found my US passport.  After what seemed like forever, the leader decided to spare me because he was afraid killing an American would bring a world of hurt down on them (little did they know we were only a couple of months from 9/11, so they probably would have been fine.

After I was allowed to live I got to watch as they executed others.  I learned later they were killing Peruvian government employees.

Anyway, that was the most stressful/emotional day of my life.

 

I had a similar, although much much less extreme, experience in Guatemala. Armed insurgents or soldiers stopped the chicken bus I was riding to or from Tikal or some other place, I don't really remember exactly where I was headed. Anyway, the soldiers or paramilitaries or whatever they were boarded the bus and saw me and a friend who were obviously foreign. They told us they wanted to question us alone and that we needed to get off the bus. We refused to get off, and they started to try and drag us off. A scuffle ensued (imagine a handful of 5 ft Guatemalans trying to drag two six foot plus dudes from the back of the bus to the front) until some people started yelling at the soldiers to leave us alone, we were not criminals or government soldiers.

The soldiers then just took our backpacks and searched them on the side of the road. Finding no weapons or drugs or whatever they were looking for, they seemed satisfied and let us stay on the bus. Surprisingly, they didn't even take our money or passports. They had guns but never actually acted like they were going to use them, so I don't know how much actual danger we were in, but it was fucking scary at the time.

 

 

 

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Second child tested via ultrasound as higher risk for Down's.  We got further testing which took two weeks.  Those two weeks were also two really shitty weeks with my job.  When my wife called with the good news I completely lost it emotionally, just total sobbing relief, that I can still vividly recall the physical feeling of.

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also,

Same kid was born via caesarean.  Immediately after delivery they brought us (the child and I) back to the room.  A few minutes later a nurse came in and told me they were having problems with stopping my wife from bleeding.  For about 20 min or so(felt like eternity) I sat there holding my newborn not knowing if I would have a wife to go home with.  That really sucked.

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30 minutes ago, Incredulity said:

also,

Same kid was born via caesarean.  Immediately after delivery they brought us (the child and I) back to the room.  A few minutes later a nurse came in and told me they were having problems with stopping my wife from bleeding.  For about 20 min or so(felt like eternity) I sat there holding my newborn not knowing if I would have a wife to go home with.  That really sucked.

This happened to my wife as well.  My son was born (C-section), he was healthy, but the OBGYN said there was a problem with getting mom to stop bleeding.  She called in another doc for reinforcements.  Before they escorted me out of the OR, I asked "Is this a life or death situation?"  Both docs replied in unison, "Very much so."   So like Incredulity, there I went to bottle feed my brand new child, not knowing if he and I would be going back home without her.

Good news is, she was in ICU a couple of days, made a full recovery, and all turned out OK.  Well, now she's my ex-wife, but a badass mother to our only child and we're still good friends.

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7 minutes ago, Native Horn said:

This happened to my wife as well.  My son was born (C-section), he was healthy, but the OBGYN said there was a problem with getting mom to stop bleeding.  She called in another doc for reinforcements.  Before they escorted me out of the OR, I asked "Is this a life or death situation?"  Both docs replied in unison, "Very much so."   So like Incredulity, there I went to bottle feed my brand new child, not knowing if he and I would be going back home without her.

Good news is, she was in ICU a couple of days, made a full recovery, and all turned out OK.  Well, now she's my ex-wife, but a badass mother to our only child and we're still good friends.

Same.  Pulled the kid out and they go to work cleaning him up and sewing up mom.  I'm holding the baby in my arms next to the operating table when I hear this sound like, "glurp" and the nurses and doctors who were standing over my wife got wide eyes and they immediately escorted me out of the room.  She had passed a HUGE blood clot and was still bleeding.  She was pale as fuck and cold.  Probably close to bleeding out.  They had to insert a balloon to keep pressure on the inside of her uterus to stop it. Everything turned out okay.

52 minutes ago, High Plains Drifter said:

 

I had a similar, although much much less extreme, experience in Guatemala. Armed insurgents or soldiers stopped the chicken bus I was riding to or from Tikal or some other place, I don't really remember exactly where I was headed. Anyway, the soldiers or paramilitaries or whatever they were boarded the bus and saw me and a friend who were obviously foreign. They told us they wanted to question us alone and that we needed to get off the bus. We refused to get off, and they started to try and drag us off. A scuffle ensued (imagine a handful of 5 ft Guatemalans trying to drag two six foot plus dudes from the back of the bus to the front) until some people started yelling at the soldiers to leave us alone, we were not criminals or government soldiers.

The soldiers then just took our backpacks and searched them on the side of the road. Finding no weapons or drugs or whatever they were looking for, they seemed satisfied and let us stay on the bus. Surprisingly, they didn't even take our money or passports. They had guns but never actually acted like they were going to use them, so I don't know how much actual danger we were in, but it was fucking scary at the time.

 

 

 

I was in Oaxaca in the mid 90's when the Chiapas rebels were fucking around.  Two friends and I were going from Zipolite to Puerto Escondido by bus.  We got pulled over by a couple of jeep loads of machine-gun wielding soldiers.  Everyone filed off the bus and the soldiers got on and searched it.  While we were standing in the ditch, wondering what the fuck was about to happen, I was calculating how fast I could make it into the woods.  Fortunately, they didn't find the ounce of weed I had stashed in my friend's shoe on top of his duffel bag.  They let us back on the bus and on our way without incident.

I guess I've been through some shit.

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Similar to others above, after my son was born, we had to take the wife back into the hospital for a shot. Standard procedure. The birth had already been stressful, as my wife was struggling pre-eclampsia <sp> issues during the birth, and they couldn't give her an epidrural for huge chunks. Anyway, we check back into the hospital for what was supposed to be an in-and-out shot, but they're not releasing my wife becuase her BP is 180/100. Now, I know that's bad, but I ask how bad is this? The doctor casually informs me that folks can very easily stroke out at those levels. 

So there I sit, with a 2 or 3 day old in my hands, wondering if I'm about to be a single parent with an infant and terrified out of my fucking mind. That one left a mark. Not too long after that, wills filled out and term life insurance was fucking acquired, I'll tell you that. 

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It's interesting.

There have been a few Surlyites (Surlytians?) who have jumped in on this thread with attempted humor. And, there is no response in any way. (Until this post.)

I can't help but wonder if those who did attempt humor in a thread clearly meant for those who have been through hell and back, have their own stories to tell and yet, maybe the pain is still too great to let it out.

It's really not being an asshole. It's not humorous. I do sincerely hope that if there is trauma or some issue within them, they come to peace with it in some way.

And for those who have come out the other side.. thank you. It is stories like yours that inspire.

The press would have us believe the world is so dark now... what you have been through provides little glimmers of light.  Keep it up.

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3 minutes ago, Lidig8r said:

There have been a few Surlyites (Surlytians?) who have jumped in on this thread with attempted humor. And, there is no response in any way. (Until this post.)

Well, first....this is Surly.  It's what we do.

Second...I dunno.  Maybe, maybe not, as to your hypothesis.  I mean, I've been through some shit; at our age, most everyone has.  Some of the stories above are much more stressful than anything I ever dealt with, some less so.

What I find interesting about these stories is how the darkness and the light are often the same thing, or at least are so intertwined as to be inseparable.  We suffer unspeakable loss because we have loved.  We experience stress and worry because there are things worth caring about.  This is a hard, cruel, and beautiful world.  All at once.  

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