My last post was on September 13th… Lindsey died on the 14th. I have been avoiding this post for awhile now- simply because I still think I am in a dream, or rather, a nightmare.
Before I dive into that terrible day, I want to talk about how both of my sisters were born with Cystic Fibrosis. I lost Ashley on June 14th, 2012.
I took two sleeping pills on September 13th.. I was exhausted, but for some reason I could not fall asleep. TWO pills and I was still rolling back and fourth. Adam kept waking up (slightly annoyed) to ask if I was okay. I told him “I can’t sleep… my body is on fire.” He touched my back, “holy sh*t Mack…” he then touched my head to see if I had a fever, “you don’t have a fever, but your body is literally burning.” I can’t even begin to explain this feeling to you, it was like a burning sensation coursing through my veins. It was miserable. I continued to roll around the bed uncomfortably… jealous of Adam as he slept soundly.
My phone began to go off… I assumed it was my alarm, and that I had just stayed up all night and it was now 7AM. I sat up and grabbed my phone… Adam had woke up in the meantime, “uhh why is my mom calling me at 630AM?” I asked him with a look of confusion. I pondered for a second to think if I had done anything to really tick her off…
“Hello?” I heard her whimper through the phone…without hesitation, “the hospital called, Lindsey is un.. unresponsive.” I was confused. Let me preface for a second, Lindsey was in the hospital for a common problem- pneumonia. She has gotten this many times, and aside from that, her health was fine.
As awful as this sounds, I sort of thought my mom was being dramatic. She tended to make the worst out of everything… and she has every reason to, but I am usually the more ‘level headed’ one of the two of us. But regardless, I texted work and told them I wouldn’t be in. I got dressed, gathered my things, woke Adam up, and we headed to Lawrence General… Which is where she went because Mass General gave her the “we think you are fine… so um, just go to your closest hospital.” The truth- they didn’t want to deal with Lindsey…and shame on them.
As I drove to the hospital, I called my moms phones… “hello” came a voice from the other end, “why didn’t you return my text!!” I spewed out… “MacKenzie, this is your Auntie Debbie..”… “Oh sorry, I am on my way, how is everything going?” There was then a moment of silence, followed with a, “you just need to get in here.” Right then, I knew something was serious- my Auntie Debbie wouldn’t have said something like that had it not been something really bad.
The drive to the hospital was excruciating.Was this happening all over again? It just didn’t seem real.
I got the floor that Lindsey was on, as I walked down the hallway I saw my uncle standing outside of a waiting room area… he looked at me, and then walked back into the waiting room. I could feel that the vibe was off… something was wrong. As I got closer, my Auntie Debbie walked out with a look of sympathy on her face, she shook her head, “I am sorry….” Everything just stopped in that moment. “No…” I screamed with tears dripping off my chin. “This is not happening again!” I turned around and walked away.
I asked the doctors, the nurses, anyone that walked by, what the hell happened… every response I got was, “honestly, we don’t know… she was fine last night, cleaning her hospital room, watching TV… she just didn’t wake up.”
There are no answers as to why she died, or what happened. At the end of the day, will answers make it better? Will it change the fact that by 25 years old I have buried two of my sisters?
I will remain strong, I really, really will. I just need sometime to decompress.