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Work in Progress

7-08-2016

hospital

 

It’s been a crazy couple of days.

Ramon came home on Thursday. Everything went better than expected, and he would recuperate much faster if he were at home. So before lunch he called me to come pick him up. He already packed his bag, and sat there waiting on the side of his hospital bed, Apping me every 5 minutes, ‘Are you there yet- are you there yet- are you there yet?’

My sister drove as fast as she could to come pick me up, and then rush over to the hospital, to pick Ramon up. My niece and nephew were just as excited and happy on the backseat, as I felt inside. But my exterior was numb, like I couldn’t show any emotion anymore, and my interior was yelling and screaming, singing and laughing of happiness, just like them.

When she dropped us off at home, I felt an anxiety coming up when we entered the staircase. ‘Will he make it all the way up? And what if he doesn’t? What if he gets another heart attack?’

Packed with 5 big balloons, a backpack, a bag filled with all his new medicine, and a bag filled with gifts and crafts of my nephew and niece, I barely fitted between the banisters. I hated the fact he still wanted me to walk in front of him, in case I would get a seizure and fall. I wanted to keep an eye on hím this time.

We made it up, and crashed on the couch together. My head hurt so much. This whole week I had taken more meds, and even so, I could feel the flow of every suppressed seizure wanting to crush my scull, at every peak. I snuggled against him, and we cried. I needed to do so many things, I can’t even remember now, but I felt I had to control the situation, and take care of Ramon. But I just couldn’t. And again I was so angry with myself.

 

ramon and kuzco

 

Ramon grabbed my hand, and led me to the bedroom. ‘I need to sleep, but so do you. Have you looked in the mirror yet? You look terrible. So come, I want to hold you. I missed that all week.’

I gave in. And it was the best nap I had in days. But the anxiety was still there. So was the need to be the perfect Florence Nightingale. In hindsight, this was doomed to cause for an emotional collision. It made me walk on eggshells, and wanted to participate every move, and ignore my own physical boundaries. Add the fact that Sinestro made sure we wouldn’t forget she was still there, making me want to take it all on me, so Ramon wouldn’t have to worry, were the perfect ingredients.

It resulted in me cry the ugly cry, a terrible case of hyperventilation, panic and anger. Because he went for a walk all by himself out of anger. And through every window I looked, I couldn’t find him. The only thing I could think of, was him having a heart attack and nobody would be there to help. And I would lose him for real this time. But on the other hand, I knew I had to let go. The doctor told us he is doing fine, and it would unlikely happen again. All his arteries looked beautiful. So he needs to continue his normal way of living, taking small steps at a time. But still…..

When we talked about it the next day, something happened. I never wanted to say it out loud. Because it was totally unfair, thinking these thoughts. But it was something he said, that made me confess my darkest feelings. I wasn’t only mad at my incapability, I was mad at myself for being mad at him! I was mad at him for almost leaving me with such an ease. How could he? We promised each other to leave simultaneously. I’m working my ass off to hold my promise, and he just left!

Almost that is….

How could I trust him he wouldn’t do the same thing again? I wanted to make sure I would keep him safe, by making an invisible box to put him in. I wanted to control my fear of losing him, by losing myself.

Then we both entered the ugly cry. ‘That’s why I said I’m sorry, when I first saw you after the operation. I felt the same way. I felt so guilty for making you put this through.’ He said with an ocean of tears.

I think the worst part of this whole ordeal, is the psychic part of it. We both will have to learn to trust his body, and let go of the fact he nearly died. Even though I still can’t get over the fact I told him I was angry at him, it felt like such a relieve. The anxiety that never seemed to left my side, is gone. I am erasing the invisible box I put him in. The feeling of wanting to protect him is still there, but he has to do it by himself. And I have to take care of mýself.

We are a team! And a very good one. And we continue to be so.

We can do this!

 

 

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