My son Nick was diagnosed at 8 months old with cystic Fibrosis. Last year he had the best year of his life. He was healthy and happy. He got engaged to a beautiful girl, Ashli, and was off oxygen. I had never seen him that happy. Around August he was hit with a pretty bad lung infection, and was having problems bouncing back. After several rounds of antibiotics, he would come home, and fever returned. We knew that he was getting worse, but tried to remain hopeful, and we never gave up on him. He was told that he was in third and final stage of lung disease and his heart was badly damaged due to not getting enough O2 for various reasons. Our biggest fear was that he was going to suffocate to death. I had a bout of flu that was very bad and had to stay away from him for over a week. On Thursday Dec 113th, 2012 we found him in the computer chair, and he was gone. I know he didn't struggle to breathe, because he was so peaceful. His heart had had enough and he was gone. I am so sad...I never got to say goodbye. Worrying and caring for him is all I know. He was so brave, never complaining and never giving up. He tried to pull through for us, his family. He knew very well how much we loved him, and that we could not bare life without him in it. My baby is gone, and there is no one out there who understands my pain. How can I do this? Who am I without him? I love him so much it is killing me...Please someone tell me I'm not alone...All these posts are so old...Is there anyone still on here?
You aren not alone, I just lost my son on Friday Jan 4th, 2013 and will be burying him on Wednesday. I thought I had mentally prepared myself since he was first diagnosed with CF. All the preparations doesn't help at all. 3 months ago we were shopping for new furniture for his room, then he also was hit with a big lung infection and he entered the final stages. He was on oxygen all the time, breathing was labored, but there was always this hope that he would bounce back. My ex-wife was with him all the time and I would visit and stay overnight when I could. Then, the morning after a nice visit, I got the call. I lost my breath, dropped everything and rushed to the hospital. I saw him lying there, lifeless and I fell to the floor at his side just holding him with uncontrollable crying. This went on, and then I had to leave and go tell my daughter the news and bring her down. The worst feeling is knowing that eventually you have to leave your child so the doctors can do their jobs to clean him up and take him downstairs while we contact the funeral home. It just happened so quick. After 2 days and making arrangements and being with family and friends, you think you are dealing with it. But every time I look at a photo of my son I have these uncontrollable outbursts of crying and asking why hoping that this is a bad nightmare from which I am going to awaken. But it's not, it's real. The next 3 days of viewings and the burial I know are going to be the worst days of my life. I will never see or talk to my son again and I'm wondering if I can ever keep living some type of normal life, but I have to, because I also have a daughter and she needs me and I need her. They say time heals all wounds. I don't think so. The wounds never heal although time may allow them to be more bearable. I don't know, time will tell. To all that is reading this that have children, tell them you love them as often as possible and never underestimate the power of family support. I have never written anything like this before but I hope at the very least it let's you all know out there that you are not alone.
It has been less than a year since my son Shannon passed away. He was 37 years old and he was the world to me. I always called him "Baby". He was the most precious gift that God could have ever given me. Shannon was a fighter and never complained about his disease or the pain. I do understand your pain because I feel the same kind of pain. I am lost without my child. I cry all of the time and this doesn't get any better with time. I am angry and sad. Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe. I often wait for Shannon to walk thru the door, hoping that this whole ordeal has been a bad dream.