In 2012 I was working as an EMT. The private ambulance company I worked for would transport patients for scheduled dialysis appointments, surgical appointments and ER calls.
We received a call from our dispatch for a transport in an area that we normally did not work in. Apparently this patient was being discharged from a hospital and they were unable to find EMS available to pick the patient up and transport them to their residents. The patient was a 37 yr. old male who had been diagnosed with type one diabetes as a teenager and had been hospitalized with complications of his disease. The patient’s medical history and other information is supplied to us by the discharging facility. He had been on dialysis for almost five years due to kidney failure from his condition. The transport was about 25 minutes.
I was in he back of the squad with the patient and my partner was driving. We stuck up a conversation on the way to our destination. He was attractive, intelligent and charming. We had a lot in common. He had been a singer in a band and I was also a singer/songwriter. When we arrived at his home he asked for my email address so we could share our music with one another. It wasn’t something I would normally do, but when it came to music it was all about networking and meeting people who I could relate to. We began emailing, sending each other tracks of our musical projects.
Once he started feeling better we met for lunch and began talking on the phone. When he had recuperated, you would never suspect he had this chronic disease if you didn’t know his medical history. We started dating and spending as much time as we could together. He had to have dialysis treatment 3 times a week, so he would come and stay at my house a couple of days and I would stay with him when I was not working. Six months into the relationship he would bring up his illness and tell me he felt it wasn’t fair to me dealing with his issue and that he felt he was holding me back from finding someone that would make me happier. I always told him that wasn’t the case and that I loved him for who he was.
The doctors had told him that his pancreas was barely functioning and they were concerned that even with the dialysis treatment he wouldn’t live much longer. He became depressed and within a few days of getting this news he quit answering his phone. I contacted his mother and she told me that someone had picked him up and he had told her he was going to a friend’s house. When she had went into his room she realized he had not taken his insulin for his insulin pump. He also had not taken a jacket or any other of his medications. She was even more worried when I had told her he wasn’t answering my phone calls. Six days later I received a call from her and when I saw her number come up on my cell phone I knew something had happened. My worst fears were confirmed. She had received a call from the coroner one state over from where he lived informing her he had been found deceased. She found out that his friend had called 911 for a diabetic emergency but he refused to be transported. I believe that he was tired of living with his disease and just wanted it to be over. I was crushed and also angry at him for not letting me be there for him.
About a month after his passing I was laying in bed attempting to take a nap. I had a hooded sweatshirt on with the hood up.I couldn’t stop thinking about him and hoping that he knew how much I loved him. I was laying on my right side looking over at the side of the bed that he would he would lay when we were in bed watching T.V. and where he slept. I remember closing my eyes and saying out loud, "I love you and I wish you were here."
As I said it I let my arm drop to his side of the bed with my hand open. We were hand holders and would hold hands in bed while watching T.V. When my hand dropped onto the the bed I still had my eyes closed. All of a sudden I felt a hand in mine. I froze in fear but I knew that I had to see with my own eyes in oder to know that it wasn’t just my imagination. As I opened my eyes I saw his torso with no shirt, his tattoos and the belt he always wore. I was afraid of what was happening but when I looked down and saw his hand in mine I felt this overwhelming feeling of love. Without any thought I did something else we would do, I pulled his hand towards my mouth to kiss it. I pulled his hand up and right before it was close enough for me to kiss it, it slowly faded away. I raised up out of bed and he was gone. I laid back down and said aloud, " Thank you."
I was so grateful for whatever force allowed me to hold his hand again. I laid back down and slept better than I had since he had passed. The more I thought about it the more I believe that it had happened because he felt my deep need to see him and touch him again.