Unselfish love

People had asked me why I had brought him to hospital and not stayed home knowing that it would be his last few days. Would he not have been more comfortable at home? I wondered and pondered about this myself. Thinking back, it was a request from him, and I am glad he had made most of the decisions about his own end-of-life issues, though we did discuss them. He was a sharp man, knew exactly what he wanted, and knew exactly what I needed. I had been nursing / doctoring him at home for the past 3 weeks with intravenous antibiotics and fluids. We knew what the signs were, and it was worsening. I used to wake up many times in the night, checking to see if he was breathing, as I laid my hands softly on his chest and felt it move as he inhaled and exhaled. Family was always close by, but he was the type of person that did not want to trouble anyone, me included. When he saw that I was becoming quite warn out, he called for help. My sister and brother in law drove us to the hospital. Though I have come to 'hate' the hospital at that stage, it was still our comfort zone. We had spent many of our earlier years working, sleeping, eating, growing and basically living in this institution as working doctors. This was our safe haven, amongst collegues and friends that could share the burden of decision making and care. Amongst people that understood the illness in depth as we did. And so, I knew that my late husband had made that decision for me more than for himself, his unselfishness in caring for me was his priority, even at the end.