Aldo was fortunate to get by without much more than a broken foot, some cuts and bruises, and a minor concussion. Sheila had a fractured femur, four broken ribs, internal bleeding, and head trauma. She had bled out significantly when waiting for the paramedics. The EMTs that were first to arrive at the scene later told Aldo that Sheila was lucky to be alive with the injuries she sustained, but Aldo felt that the jury was still out on Sheila’s luck.
Since undergoing a number of operations, she remained comatose in the hospital. The doctors held a positive outlook upon her arrival, expecting a recovery, but as the weeks went by and she remained in that catatonic state, the doctor’s hopes, along with Aldo’s, steadily declined. Aldo stayed by her side in the hospital for more than three months, sleeping there nearly every night. Over time the flowers and cards and visitors slowly faded until there weren’t any other surprises, just the repetitive beeping of the hospital. Doctor’s told Aldo with 98% certainty, that if she were to wake up someday, she would need to be kept on life support and she would only exist in a vegetative state.
Tortured by the dilemma set before him, Aldo wrestled for months with what to do. Part of him, deep down, clung to the belief that she would return, that a miracle could happen and Sheila, the Sheila he knew and remembered not this shell in the hospital, would return to his life and everything would be okay again. The truth, and what he understood, though he hated the truth of it, was that Sheila was gone and had been gone for sometime now. Only her body lived on, kept alive by life support and other than her basic bodily functions, no life remained to be supported.
Aldo carefully consulted lawyers, friends, other medical professionals and Sheila’s sister, the last living member of her family, and ultimately concluded that the only logical decision, and the humane decision at this point, would be to end it. After over a year of supporting her, he said goodbye to the love of his life and watched as she drifted from this world with the flick of a switch.
A Page a Day 