Richard

Richard Mudd. His death on May 28, 2009 inspired this site.

by Joe Mudd on June 10, 2009

Here’s a quick tip for you.

If you miss a call on your phone, and don’t recognize the number, and when you call back they answer, “Fayette County Coroner” – your day is about to go in the toilet.

Mine did.

It got worse.

After apologizing for breaking the news to me over the phone, the coroner lady told me they had the sheriff stopping by our house to inform us of are sons death, but no one was home. My wife Debbie was at a class in Louisville that night. I didn’t want her coming home to have a deputy sheriff waiting for her in the driveway. I knew I had to be the one to tell her that her baby was dead. So I called her.

No wonder I hate phones.

Our son Richard was 22 years old, would have been 23 at the end of August had he lived.

Three years before his death, Richard got sick. The whole story is long, but the short version is he had a sinuous infection that broke through his skull in the area over his eyes. It then abscessed into his brain.

This required two brain surgeries to remove successfully. His doctors decided to not return the part of his skull that formed his forehead because of possible infection. He had to have another operation after all the infection was cleared to replace this bone with a plastic replacement plate.

The operations left him with scare tissue in his brain, just as a cut leaves scar tissue on the skin.

This scar tissue was a place that could trigger seizures.

He had seizures on two occasions. The first time he wasn’t on medication. It’s believed he was being lax taking the medication on the second time.

Both seizures were massive. They caused his entire body to convulse. They came nonstop. They were medical emergencies and he ended up staying in the hospital for several days after each.  A couple of days in intensive care after the second seizure.

But he was taking medication – Kepra – and things were going well. He had been more than a year and a half seizure free.

Richard was a full time student. He had a part-time job. He lived in an apartment by himself. This of course made us pretty nervous. We knew that if he had a seizure in his apartment alone, the outcome would be disaster.

Richard was very close to his cousin Hannah. They grew up together and went through all of our family big events together. Hannah was graduating from college. Richard should have been too, but he lost a couple of years school work during all his medical adventures. He told Hannah he had brain surgery so she could have a graduation party all to herself.  We were having a family gathering to celebrate her accomplishment on a Saturday afternoon. My wife Debbie talked to Richard on Friday night and he said he couldn’t make it to the party because he had to work. But he might come home on Sunday.

I sent him a text message on Saturday night to see if he was coming home. He didn’t answer. That wasn’t too unusual – I didn’t know what hours he was working. He didn’t make it home that weekend. I sent him a message early in the week to see how he was. I got no answer. That made me anxious. But there had been another time he didn’t respond to calls or text messages. I got concerned then. It turned out his phone had quit. He was using cheap Walmart phones and they didn’t last. So I tried to stay calm.

On Thursday evening I sent him another text message from work to see how he was. No answer. More nerves. Then about 10pm I got a call over my radio at work to come to a phone. I looked at my cell phone and saw I’d missed a call. I didn’t recognize the number. But it was from Lexington where Richard lived. I thought maybe his phone was dead again and he was calling from work or a friends place to touch base. I called the number.

And the nightmare that never ends began.

{ 15 comments… read them below or add one }

denise January 8, 2011 at 3:19 pm

I totally know understand what you are going through because we lost our only son three years ago. He died of HCM a heart disease that athletes just drop dead from because it goes undetected until it’s too late. We got the call too. He would be 23 this March also. What really irritates me is that people(most) tell you that it is going to get better!! How do they know? Why do they keep trying to fix it ? The only way it would get fixed I tell them is if he would walk through that door. Feel free to share your feelings with me .I understand Sincerely Denise

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Joe Mudd January 10, 2011 at 10:51 am

Hi Denise,
Thanks for sharing your experiences and welcome. (I always feel stupid saying “Welcome” to people on this blog. No one wants to be here. But you know what I mean.)

Your comments here and those you left on other posts help others in this club no one wants to join.

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Becky Loflin January 29, 2011 at 10:16 pm

I understand the pain from your loss. I lost my beautiful son MartyJanuary 19th, 2010 after a routine aortic valve replacement that the dr said was “text book”, but following the surgery he told me and my family he was in “unchartered waters.” Marty was 34 years old and healthy til walking into the hospital in Pinehust, NC. I work everyday to try to make dr’s and hospitals accountable for what they do or don’t do. My pain is unbearable. Thank you for sharing about your son Richard. He is a very handsome young man. I know you must miss him so much. Feel free to share, I really understand.
Becky Loflin

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Joe Mudd January 30, 2011 at 12:44 am

Hi Becky,

I really sorry to hear about Marty. I know the first anniversary of his death was hard for you to deal with.

The medical profession does some good things, but they’re human and screw up too.

A generic replacement for Richard’s seizure medication came out and the pharmacist had to give it to us. I told Richard to call his neurologist and make sure it was OK. Of course being a strong, healthy young man he thought he was bulletproof and didn’t get around to it.

Generics are NOT the same as the patent drugs they replace. We shouldn’t have to find that out from the medical examiner.

It’s hard to not become bitter when things like this happen to our children isn’t it?

I hope you can find forgiveness in your heart. It won’t be easy.

Remember you’re not alone.

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Becky Loflin April 8, 2011 at 11:16 am

Richard, Thank you for your kind words. I will never find forgiveness for the dr who performed the surgery that took my son’s life. He showed no compassion to me and my family and refuses even today to speak with us. he cannot imagine the pain and devastation we suffer each day we live. There is no excuse for a dr who is arrogant and portrays himself as the only dr who is capable to perform an aortic valve replacement procedure. This dr continues to practice today in another state. My life is ruined, but that’s okay. My pain is for my precious son Marty whose life was taken and he does not get to enjoy his two precious girls and all the things he loved.

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Christine March 2, 2011 at 11:22 pm

Thank you for this website and your son’s story. I have not lost a child but I am greiving my mother loss this past January. It has been devastating. No one understands until they experience it. I can’t say I fully understand the loss of your son but I can only imagine. It helps to know the mix of emotions that we go through related to loss and grief. This is why I visiting websites that deal with the loss of a loved one. Everything you discussed rings true–I take each day as it comes and try to get through. Thank you for your words of wisdom.

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Joe Mudd March 3, 2011 at 12:09 pm

Hi Christine,
I’m sorry you lost your mom. It’s hard to deal with.

My mom died nearly 11 years ago. For a long time I’d see something or think of something that I knew would interest her and think, “I’ve got to tell mom about that.” Then I’d remember that I couldn’t do that anymore.

Richard’s grave is in front of her’s, so I talk to her pretty regularly.

It’s comforting to know she’s with Richard, and was there to help him when he left this world.

Time did make it better with my mom. Hang in there.

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Valerie Sarao March 11, 2011 at 10:55 pm

I am sitting here reading your stories like a starving child as I too lost my Son Joshua at the age of 28 on June 8th 2008 to cancer and I never get to talk about it as people are always telling me to let it be and let go and move on. I am sorry for your loss and as I know your pain well,I can say I am SORRY for your loss. Not 1 day passes I don’t wish Josh back. He left 2 young boys and I will never forget the smallest one tried to climb in the coffin with his Daddy,I will NEVER be ok,I will NEVER move on,I only wait to see him again.We had 1 month from the time we found his cancer to the day he passed,but no one ever said goodbye,no one believed he was going to die,I guess we were in denial. I did go seek help once because I really felt as though I wanted to die,but as soon as the lady told me my grief was holding Josh back from moving on into spiritual life,I walked out and never looked back.My heart aches for you,my heart ACHES for your loss,it is a struggle each day putting one foot in front of the other..God bless our Broken hearts..Thank you for letting me share my pain and also for letting me know a little bit of Richard..what a great guy..xoxo Valerie momma to ^j^ Joshua

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Joe Mudd March 12, 2011 at 3:31 am

Hi Valerie,
I’m sorry for what happened to Joshua and I know no words can heal your pain.

You’re right about not “getting over it” as a lot of people think we should. From what I’ve learned from others that have been on this road longer than we have, is we learn to adjust and live with the pain. And the pain softens.

Your two little grandsons will need you to help you learn about their daddy. I’m guessing that someday teaching them about your son will be a comfort for you.

Have you tried The Compassionate Friends (TCF)? You’ll be with people that know where you are, because they’re there with you. At the very least you get to talk about your son with people that don’t think you need to move on.

I just finished a book co-written by a bunch of bereaved mom’s. They were all big fans of TCF. My wife is a regular at the meetings of our chapter of TCF.

Bless you.

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anthony pangan November 19, 2011 at 5:02 pm

Hello my name is Anthony and i’m from Hawaii, 22 days ago my 18 yr old daughter Tayler went out with some friends to Waikiki. Just kids having fun & being kids. She had a cerfew of 1am. She never made it home. She was killed in a single car accident on a very dangerous road in Kaimuki. She wasnt drinking, wasnt speeding, & had her seatbelt on but still shes gone. She just graduated from Kamehameha High School & was attending Kapiolani Comm. College studying art & photography. Tayler did everything right that night 10/28/11 but still suffered unsurvivable injuries. She came down a very steep hill and @ the bottom of that hill is a dip in the road. Which caused her car to hydroplane. Taylers car slid sidewards for about 50 yards finally coming to a crashing rest against the corner of a school entrance. Tayler was killed instantly. We are currently trying to get the city to change that stop light back to a 4 way stop with stop signs. You see the city thought it would be a good idea to p[ut a stop light there. There have been neumerous accidents since the stop light was installed but so far Tayler is the only fatality. It is impossible to describe my feelings when i had to go down to the medical examiners office & indentify my daughter. At 18 yrs old she was just starting life & this seems so unfair & not real to me. I have my days of total depression. And days that are a little better. But my life will never be the same.

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Joe Mudd November 28, 2011 at 12:04 pm

Hi Anthony,
I’m so sorry you’ve joined this club of parents that have lost a child. The membership dues are just too high.

Going to identify Taylor at the medical examiners had to be really hard. We didn’t have to do that with Richard. We never saw him dead. I’m not sure if it makes things easier to accept and believe because you see it with your own eyes like you had to do, or if it’s easier if you only have memories of them when they were alive like we have. I think neither way is easy.

I know you feel like you live your life on a yoyo right now, sometimes up, but other times down. It never really goes away, but you do learn to just deal with the sadness. The bad days become less crushing over time.

Just realize it takes a lot of time, and give yourself that time.

Blessings to you.

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Janie Garner November 29, 2011 at 9:45 pm

Thank you for the site. My son Alex was killed on February 18, 2011. He was 17. He was killed instantly by a tow truck as a pedestrian. I never knew that the world could feel so bleak and ugly.

I am sorry for your loss.

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Joe Mudd December 4, 2011 at 3:43 am

Hi Janie,
I’m so sorry that you’ve lost Alex. You aren’t alone, and we grieve with you.

The world does often feel bleak and ugly. This was really true for us as we faced that first Christmas without Richard, as you are now facing without Alex.

But something we must remember – the beauty of the world is still out there. It really is. It’s often not possible for us to see it because our eyes are covered by clouds of pain, and our hearts wrapped in grief.

We just have to keep going. Keep looking for that beauty.

You’ve seen the sky after a big storm, filled with angry clouds. Gradually they start to lighten. A ray of sunshine breaks through. Those days will come. I’ve seen a few of them after a couple of years. Just like those stormy skies, the clouds often regroup and close off that opening, so the sun no longer shines through for awhile.

But the sun is persistant. It keeps finding openings to peek through. It melts the clouds off more and more.

Maybe seeing rainbows and cloudless skies is too much for us to hope for. But I think we’ll have only partly cloudy skies again. The beautiful world will replace the bleak one – most of the time. It just takes a lot of time.

We always recommend the Compassionate Friends. You’ll find people that know where you are, and you won’t have to worry about talking about Alex to them – because they know.

Bless you and your family.

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Jackie January 27, 2012 at 11:25 pm

Yes, thank you for this site. My 25 year old son, Omar, was killed on Dec. 30, 2011. He was shot by someone in our driveway as he returned home that night. At this point, we still have no idea who or why. Homicide detectives are still investigating. I cry all the time, and yet still, I know that despite this, I am still in shock. I must be in shock because otherwise, I would be hysterical. And there are moments when I AM hysterical. There are times when this is not real, and times when it is too real.

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Debbie Mudd January 30, 2012 at 11:59 pm

Jackie,
That is just horrible. I am so very sorry. I know those are only words, but as you are learning there really aren’t any words we can say when we grieve the loss of our children. Words can’t convey the feeling of absolute horror. It was a long time before I was able to get through the day without tears. And there are still times when the loss hits harder than usual. I guess there always will be. One thing I have learned is there is no “right” way to cope with this nightmare. We just have to live through one day, one minute at a time. I do hope you are able to find some answers.

You might give The Compassionate Friends a try when you feel you are able. They won’t be able to answer “WHY” but they are good at listening and they are all in the same boat, they have all lost a child somehow. And it does help us to be able to talk about our children with others, even to cry along with them as they share their stories.

You are alway welcome here, sometimes it may take us a day or two to respond but either Joe or I will respond to your comments. Joe is better at writing these articles and putting thoughts down, but he usually is right on target with what I feel also. And he always lets me know when we have a comment.

In the mean time we will keep you and your family in our prayers, and pray you get some answers, as well as the arrest of the person responsible for the death of Omar.

God Bless

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