My phone rang at 4:16pm and showed my husband’s number. My heart skipped a beat knowing he should be on his motorcycle riding home from work. He shouldn’t be calling me at this time, I thought. I was hoping he was calling to tell me that he was leaving the office late.
“Are you OK?!”
“I got hit.”
“Are you OK!??!?!”
“Ya…..” His voice trailed off to a groan.
“Do you need me to come get you?”
“The ambulance is here.”
“OK. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
ENTER PANIC MODE!
I beat him to the hospital. My heart was in my throat and I nearly lost my breath as each ambulance approached. Aside from the few short words he was able to mutter through his groans, I had no idea of his condition. I sat on a bench outside of the emergency room, wincing as the sun glimmered through the tree branches. Alone and terrified, I stared at the exterior wall of the hospital and prayed. I prayed every prayer I could imagine, pleading with God that my husband would be all right.
There is no worse feeling than hearing and seeing an ambulance approach wondering if it’s your loved one inside. Thirty long minutes passed before I received a text from Brian. “I’m ok. Sorry if I scared you.” Thank God! He is still breathing, and able to text! He has fingers. He is alert. Then he sent me a selfie and I could finally breathe. After my breath of relief, a new set of anxieties entered as I knew I’d be spending hours in a hospital, the ER none the less. It’s not the ideal situation for someone who is immunosuppressed, but I geared up with masks.
Miraculously, he was discharged from the hospital the same evening. Brian’s accident was seven weeks ago and he still cannot walk independently, though his concussion seems to be getting better. His memory loss was scary. One day after dinner he asked, “You went to work today?” Where did he think I was all day? I stood there with tears in my eyes and answered, “Yes, I went to work. Did you not notice I was gone?” He legitimately forgot I had gone to work.
It has been a glimpse into each other’s lives. I’m usually the “sick” one, and Brian the one taking care of me. One night he said, “Maybe this happened so I can see what it feels like for you.” His compassion has raised to yet another level, now understanding what it is like to be in constant pain. He wondered why he was constantly tired. I bluntly told him it was the fatigue that comes with being in constant pain. Silently I wondered if this happened to give me a glimpse of what it is like for my husband to care for me day in and day out.
I will be honest. It has been so frustrating for me. I’m used to Brian taking the girls outside, or doing an activity with them after work so I can rest my body from my day of appointments and being at work. I rely on my husband a lot. He does eighty percent of the chores and family errands. Many things have been left undone because I simply cannot pick up the slack. I lasted two weeks before my ribs flared. I couldn’t even open the fridge or the utensil drawer due to the pain.
We embark on yet another journey together. This is a journey of patience, endurance, perseverance, and resilience. Looking back at our marriage, that has been our story all along.
I am beyond thankful that he is still here next to me. Never had I imagined I’d be sitting outside of an emergency room praying for my husband’s life. He arrived on the gurney unknowingly carrying the weight of my fear. He was shaking from shock, and I met him holding a calm exterior while my insides quaked.
Brian awaits surgery and we will go through yet another transition period as he recovers. Thanks for all the messages and support that you have continued to show our family. We appreciate all the meals that have been sent and inquiries about Brian’s progress (and mine). Thanks for being a part of our tribe.