I'm not really certain what prompted the return of nightmares, the reliving of my wife Kim's final minutes in the hospital room. I've some ideas and have reached out to those I trust to try and bring some peace to it all.
And while it's been unexpected and painful, I've kind of needed the look back. It's all we've got now, holding on to all those memories, good and bad.I'm guessing they returned because I still hold deep guilt. Guilt over not speaking out that maybe Kim wasn't strong enough for another surgery, that Kim would've preferred a different hospital, that I didn't shout loud enough that she was in trouble.
And for as many times as I've told myself that I'm not at fault, that we had to trust the medical doctors who approved the surgery, that no matter what decisions were made, I shouldn't be feeling such guilt. But I do.
I'm working through that. Yesterday, on the 10-month anniversary of Kim's death, I needed to reach out again to a friend who's also experienced trauma, in a much different way. And we both cried again.
She looked me in the eyes and said bluntly: "Dana, you shouldn't feel guilty." And she knows she shouldn't either. But trauma, at all sorts of levels, can hang with you.
My recent nightmares might have been prompted by our lawyers' decision not to pursue a medical malpractice suit. It's a firm filled with people I know and respect, and they simply felt they couldn't prove negligence.
I know what I saw. Proving that in the courts is an entirely different issue. And I accept that reality.
I'm also guessing that's why I keep writing about it, making that promise to compile thoughts at each month interval through the first year of not having Kimmy around the Melius house. I still gaze at her picture each morning, rub my hand over the urn, and move through each day.
But it takes a toll.
My past couple years with the St. Peter Herald and Le Sueur News-Herald have been cherished. I'm surrounded by people I care deeply about and they return the favor. I've made new friends, met amazing people. It was a perfect fit for Kim and I, we thought, despite the 35-mile commute. I'd traveled much farther in other jobs.
I had actually hoped to retire at the Herald office. And because the Adams Publishing Group continues to buy up papers, there's probably an on-going need for old-school journalists like me.
Kim's Nov. 23, 2015 death changed all that. I knew almost immediately it would. There's that loss of current purpose, loss of half of the household income, the need for change. It's why I asked to shift away from the St. Peter community a few months ago; I had grown too close to many there and it was an ongoing, emotional roller-coaster.
At Le Sueur, I targeted mid-June as a critical point to make it through -- the LSH Giants softball team was likely going back to the state tourney and I wanted to be there for it. Sounds odd, but that program gave me a sense of community that was so important at the time. The coaching staff and members of that team welcomed me; others appreciated the coverage.
But after the Giants' finale at Caswell Park in North Mankato, I broke down walking to my car. I had made it to through that special point. And it was over.
I took nearly three weeks off in July to decompress. I wasn't really sure what the end result might be. Now I do.
Recently, I gave my notice. I'll be done at this wonderful place Nov. 11. It was a difficult decision but the right one. The St. Peter Herald needed me when I joined them in 2014 and I needed them. That's a pretty darn good match. And it brought me back into a profession I love and hold deep pride.What's next? I have no idea. But this remains a grand journey. And I still have more in the tank and more to give, And more love in the heart.
Peace friends.
