chiari angel

chiari angel

Tuesday, August 30, 2016

Happier times with Kevin and baby Ryan.
A proud daddy.

    Suffering with severe PTSD is especially hard when dealing with a cancer diagnosis. I cannot stand the sound of sirens.  During those weeks of Ryan's illness and death I had to call 911 multiple times. So often that they got to know us.

   I remember the one call I had to make when I found my husband in a pool of his own blood in our garage. Barely hanging to life after he snapped mentally because doctors refused to help our son.  He was sleep deprived and both of us had just spent the night in the E.R. with Ryan. Falling asleep sitting straight up in a hard chair...they refused us any comfort. By early morning they came in to tell us that our son was fine and they would no longer treat him from a neurological standpoint and to seek psychological help for him instead.

     That same day I had Ryan admitted into another hospital after another neurosurgeon there and his primary care doctor recognized his deterioration . My daughter and I came home to check on Kevin after he didn't show up at the hospital or answer his phone.

    As soon as I opened the door to our townhome I knew something was terribly wrong. There were drops of blood in the foyer and to my left in the kitchen I could see the trail on the white tile. To my right the garage door was left open slightly. My daughter was coming in behind me and I pushed her out so she wouldn't see. She collapsed on our porch screaming Daddy! Why!! I opened the garage door and saw my husband face down ,blood everywhere. I cannot even begin to describe my feelings. Except that it felt surreal.  I literally felt like I was out of my body watching from somewhere else.

   The 911 call was a blur of me screaming into the phone and begging for help. My brother had arrived by that time and literally saved Kevins life by turning him over and stopping the bleeding until the ambulance arrived. Neighbors were standing outside shaking their heads and whispering.

   I pulled myself together and went back to Ryan's side. He never knew what happened to his Dad.  I did not want to add to Ryan's pain and knowing that his Dad tried to commit suicide would have hurt him so bad. I successfully kept it from him by telling him Dad was at work and would come by as soon as he could. Later never came ...Ryan died a few days later with me by his side. He suffered a seizure... just before he was to have surgery to repair what the first doctor did to him .

     I came across this poem and it resonates with everything I felt about my husbands suicide attempt.

  Poem   By  Alison Stormwolf

You Weren't There

You weren't there when you should have been
You weren't there
When I told everyone you would be!
My night in shining amour
Became rusty overnight
My 'soul mate' forgot he had another half!
Oh how I wish you had been there!
Through all the terrors and the pain
When life had lost all meaning
And my mind was in distress
And I wandered as a ghost
I always thought that you would be
'The One' to Sleigh the Dragon
To raise me from the fiery pit
And rock me back to health
Safe in your arms…..
You weren't there in the cold dawn
Warm arms wrapped around me;
The car I heard was not yours
As I staggered to the window
Eyes swollen from grief and loss
The voice I heard through sedation
In the hospital, was not yours
You were not arriving
To take me to lunch!
My longing's cruel trick
I would have walked on broken glass
Stared Medusa in the face
Starved and suffered just to know
You were alright, not left your side
From daybreak to dusk
Oh God! no matter how I view it
No matter how I try to analyze
Your sudden withdrawal from my loving world
The facts speak for themselves
You weren't there!
© Alison Stormwolf


  1. Love you Zona. I am so sorry, such loss and devastation. You are an amazing mom and grandma. You have my heart, and support. Your angel Ryan is always by your side, sister of my heart. Dori

    1. My sweet sister and do we move on from our losses? I try to be brave ..put on my mask and pretend I'm not dying inside. They don't see how bad it really hurts do they? Step by step one foot in front of the other we walk a path as grieving mothers. I love you too.

    2. I love you.