https://www.facebook.com/sophie.brooks.503
This is David Brooks
https://www.facebook.com/david.m.brooks.92
her husband who has updated her Facebook page since she can no longer do so herself. Facebook apparently since 2013 will not display pages to those not logged into Facebook even if a post is set to "public," and I have learned that many relatives and friends, most, are not Facebook-ers -- I've set up this blogger site to share memories and information with friends and relations who do not Facebook.
This is David, Sophie’s husband.
Last Tuesday, August 23, 2016 Sophie died on the operating table.
We drove down to the Scarbourgh Surgical Center, part of the Maine Medical Center, for Sophie to have a torn knee meniscus repaired with arthroscopic surgery… she said that there wouldn’t even be a scar. Her knee had been bothering her from some time, more than a year anyway, and while she had been able to do her fitness walks, and in July when my brother Steven and his wife Anna flew up to Bar Harbor, while they took a car tour of Acadia National Park, Sophie said the two of us were going to go hiking, and we did and she set a good pace— really too fast for me. She walked during work lunch break and not long ago was competing on the Fitbit app with other women at Bank of America where she worked. But the knee pain was finally too great and she had to slow way down… and could not be active.
This was also a big problem because she, and we, had been planning a week trip to Paris, and had decided to add on a 3 day London side trip. When we visit a city we walk all over and that was what she wanted. She insisted on seeing a highly recommended surgeon who ordered a MRI that confirmed that her torn meniscus needed surgery to repair. That was two weeks ago now. Surgery was quickly scheduled.
On Tuesday morning Sophie was in a *really* good mood. She had had her dream of visiting Paris for many years and it was all coming together. This had been planned for a year; for a year she had been studying French using Rosetta Stone, grammar books, on-line resources, and was watching the Quebec French-language cartoon “Caillou” — and while her understanding was still basic, she said she learned far more than she had during her college French classes, and she could have gotten along well enough for us as travelers and had fun doing it. She wanted me to learn along with her but Rosetta Stone didn’t seem to understand me and I gave up; but she had not. She did gently remonstrate with me for not sticking with it, pointing out the fun we could have had practicing together. I agreed and regretted not sticking with it. I regret it far far more now.
On Monday the day before she had gone off to work but returned home soon thereafter with what we can call gastric distress… I think it was the different brand of coconut milk that I used that day to froth her coffee… a brand that has added ingredients to keep it from solidifying so much I assume… anyway she called out and soon recovered and had the rest of the day off. It was a nice day outside and she brought me out do yard work with her, we trimmed bushes, she pointed out the nasty vines and small dead trees that needed removing at the edges of our yard. We changed her seasonal flags…I put up the big pumpkin flag on the house and she put up the small back-to-school ABCs banner at the front of our drive-way. She pointed out a garden area planted years ago by her mother and her mother’s friend Mrs. Radfieskei (I’m sure I’m misspelling her name) which Sophie called “Mrs. Radfieskei’s Garden” — Sophie said Mrs. Radfieskei (who was an extreme neat-nik) would be very unhappy with the state of her garden… and we cleaned it out.
She was also happily planning our trip. She did the final booking of our Paris apartment and the credit card was charged. Last week when I loaded paper in the printer to print forms related to her death what first printed out was a colorful 3 page TIME article “London: 10 Things to Do” — and she was talking about The London Eye. She had been to London some years ago and wanted to show me the sights, telling me that I am going to *love* The London Tower. Neither of us had been to Paris so it was going to be a big adventure; there were many must see sites and we were staying in the heart of the city. She was going to take me for dinner at the Le Jules Verne restaurant in the Effie Tower for my birthday… noted for its extraordinary cuisine and views, and matching prices. I said, “its expensive,” she said this is a once in a life-time experience… and I realized that she was right.
She was also looking forward to two weeks leave to recover, two weeks off from a stressful job, two weeks when I would nurse her and wait on her, and we would “get things done”— she providing the direction, and me doing it. I was looking forward to that also.
She drove us down from home to Scarborough, with our Miniature Schnauzer Heidi and our Pomeranian Jasper in the back, and she played the audio companion for the Rosetta Stone lessons, basically listen and repeat. When she repeated the phrases she also translated them into English for me which she noted she hadn’t done before. She stopped in front of the door of the Scarborough Surgical Center and I moved the car to the nearby parking area in the shade, left the roof open and the windows partway open for the dogs, and went inside.
Eventually she was admitted to a waiting area where she changed, had a saline solution needle inserted, and waited on a gurney. I asked her if she wanted me take a picture of her for her Facebook friends— she said no but take a picture of the equipment; and she then made her last post.
We talked about where to go for lunch after she got out of the surgery. The week before we had driven down for her MRI and had stopped at The Porthole on the Portland waterfront, but on the way we had seen Benny's Famous Fried Clams and she was checking out the Yelp reviews on it and other nearby restaurants.
Two anesthesiologists came in with a nurse, and they briefly went over what they were going to do, had her sign a consent form. She was smiling and cheerful. She said she didn’t have her glasses but they went over some side effects, notably a sore throat from where they put the airway tube. They didn’t mention that she might die. They said we’ll take good care of you. A nurse wheeled her away… it seemed so ordinary and quick that I didn’t think to stop them a moment and kiss Sophie and tell her “I love you.”
I went out to the car to hang out with the dogs and it was just a little while later Sophie’s phone buzzed … it was the surgeon who said “Are you driving?” No… I said I’m here in the parking lot.
“Sophie died on the operating table.”
I asked him if he was joking though I knew he wouldn’t joke about that.
As I was walking in he came out with tears in his eyes and gave me a hug.
I went into the OR where she lay covered on the gurney, head to toe. I uncovered her face and held her body, touched her face and kissed her. There were several staff including an RN who I understood was the director of the facility… all professionally sympathetic and wanting to “help,” I asked simply to be left alone with Sophie. She said the hospital’s reverend has been called and is on the way…. please no. She seemed to accept that and left and I held Sophie and touched her face and kissed her and talked to her; saying things I wished I had said earlier, and better, eventually the reverend, a woman, arrived, I asked her to leave which she did for a while but soon came back and wouldn’t leave me alone with Sophie (“our policy”) so I could no longer talk to Sophie; I just held her and kissed her until it was finally time to take her away.
Sophie had been a regular blood donor though it has been a while due to timing issues, she was also an organ donor. I told the Center staff she wanted to donate and I got a call on the way home from a representative of the New England Organ Bank. At age 60 there are only limited tissues that can be used but they include eye tissue, skin to help burned children, and I believe she said bone marrow… Sophie would be glad that at least her death helped some others in need… and I am glad also that small parts of her live on helping other patients.
I am devastated by her death. We have been married since 1982 and were going out for more than a year before. We were looking forward to an adventure in the very near future, and years of quality living ahead… her death is inexplicable to me. I feel so hurt. Guilty. Alone. As I look around our house, our yard, the flowers she planted, the rooms she decorated everything is about her. Most everything around me lacks meaning without her. I walk around most of the day with tears in my eyes.
Per her wishes she is being cremated. She didn’t want a big funeral, she liked the simple ceremony that my mom had, and the even simpler one my dad had at the condo where he lived, with his close family and his neighbors. Sophie has friends in Maine particularly at Bank of America in Brunswick where she has worked for many years; her surviving family is in Connecticut mostly, also RI & Massachusetts. My father’s family is mostly in RI. Some are old and are not going to travel very far. I do plan a simple memorial gathering where as many people who want to can get to it… I just haven’t figured out the details. I will post them on Sophie’s page when I do.
I plan to make some more posts with my thoughts about Sophie and pictures, and I welcome others who want to share memories.
https://www.facebook.com/sophie.brooks.503/posts/1046317198819387
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