The Hospital Visit

I woke up this morning, an hour ahead of my alarm, with a bladder so full that it was paining me. I lay there, unable to move for almost an hour, at that awful point where what was once just a full bladder now feels like a stomach flu. Yet I still couldn’t get up; I couldn’t bring myself to leave Brian’s side after yesterday.

Brian took ill early in the day on Sunday, and steadily worsened as the day progressed. A mysterious pain in his belly, one that had been mildly nagging him for some weeks now, had become more and more severe as the day went on until finally, fearing it was appendicitis, I threw him into the car and drove to the hospital. They rushed him through the usually lengthy intake process and put him in an observation bed, where he writhed in pain for the next six hours.

I don’t know if I’ve ever felt as helpless as I did that day. I tried so hard to be brave, to look calm and collected, but time and again I just started crying. I saved my hardest sobs for the times he was in various xray rooms, leaning against the cold sterile walls of the hospital and just sobbing. My beautiful, vivacious boy, twisted in pain that I could do nothing about.

I had my darling friend MJ on the phone, texting me, and I had Mo by my side. I called my dad throughout the ordeal, and was grateful for his calm, almost dismissive style of dealing with a crisis. I kissed Bri’s head as he fought spasms of pain, and I laughed when he could muster a joke.

We got him home, full of morphine, late last night. He lay down in bed and I lay down beside him, and he gently pulled me onto his chest where I love to sleep, and I cried. I cried because he was home, and I was so grateful to have his chest to lay my head on; I cried because we are five months from saying our vows and this reminded me of how fragile life is; I cried because we still don’t know what’s wrong with him. I fell asleep to an episode of Big Bang Theory that I’d turned on for us to listen to, and woke up once in the night, panicked, until I felt Brian’s strong arm around me and the sound of Mr Darcy’s snores and James (our feline temporary refugee…long story) purring like a motor, right beside my head. Allergies aside, it was such a reassuring sound. I rolled back over and only woke when my bladder cried out in the morning.

I’m posting this on Monday evening; Brian has a big test tomorrow that could tell us what’s going on, and could even be a chance for any…repairs…that need to happen. We’ve got a lot of people who read our blog, and no doubt a lot of different faiths and beliefs. Brian and I have always been a ‘come one, come all’ kinda people, so we truly, genuinely, and respectfully are grateful for any and all prayers that come Brian’s way right now. I’m nervous about the test, even though it’s such a good thing; it feels a bit like when we went snorkelling on the barrier reef in Grand Cayman: I tried to keep focused on the coral to the left, but it was impossible not to look into the deep, black ocean to the right. While you want to see the shark coming from the depths, it’s hard to look into the unknown and stare it down. Tomorrow, we do that together.

I’m hoping and praying that this turns out to be something really simple, treatable, and in no way chronic; I’d love to look back on this entry and laugh at my waxing dramatic. So let’s all send our best positive thoughts in that direction.