Although it happened in an instant, it really had been coming on for many weeks. Certainly for the last two anyway. But at 1:00 AM, late Thursday night or early Friday morning, it all came to a head. Rick was sick. And not just any ol' sick... SICK. Hospital-type sick.
He had been struggling to walk all evening and even struggling to sit straight up in his chair. Yet I closed my eyes to it all. I just didn't want to believe what I was seeing.
We headed to bed very late that night, I'm not even sure why now, but around 12:30, Rick headed to bed. I was already in bed and practically asleep. A large thud woke me and I turned on the light... and to my horror, I found Rick slumped over the side of the bed. Half on, half off. But I was still in denial.
"Well, get up!"
"RICK! STAND UP!"
"YOU ARE NOT!"
"I am, too."
"STAND UPPPPPP!" And he tried and tried to do that but couldn't. He just kept saying that the bed was too tall and he couldn't get into it. (True, we do have a new bed which is 3 inches taller than before, but that was not what was going on.... even though I bought into it at the time and believed it, too.)
I climbed out of bed, ran over and got behind him and squatted so that he could sit down on my knees. I ignored my own back pain so that we could get this man up and into bed. But I was not strong enough and he certainly wasn't, either. Together we struggled to get him to an upright position and almost did... which is when I could tell that this man was a mess. He could not hold his "trunk" upright and kept falling back down to a mush position.
I was at a loss. I didn't know what to do. And I found out that I am not a saint. Not even close. Not even remotely close.
Know what I did? I collapsed onto the floor screaming and bawling. "NO!!!!!" I just could not go through this again. It just couldn't be happening. And I laid there on the floor, sobbing, while this poor man continued to struggle to get himself into bed.
When I'd mustered up some more strength, I left the bedroom and headed to the kitchen to text my friend Lori and ask for prayer. We certainly needed something. And fast. And Lori called me back immediately... and told me what I already knew but was pushing to the back of my brain. Rick needed help. And fast. And I needed to call 911.
I didn't call immediately though. I first checked on Rick... somehow, he was now in bed and fast asleep. I then got dressed (my nightie was just SO inappropriate for all of the cute firemen that Lori assured me would be showing up) and... I straightened up the house. Yes, I did. I couldn't have all those cute firemen see my house in such disarray!!
And at that moment, I knew my application for sainthood would not only be denied, it was going to be shredded.
As of today, Rick remains in the hospital. He is doing very well and has regained most of his strength. No one can really explain what happened, but they did rule out a Lupus flare up immediately. I can't even tell you how I squealed with delight when I heard that news. There's a real good chance that after 15 years of taking very strong seizure meds, his body is just sick and tired of them, though. And he's become toxic. So both seizure meds have been pulled from his list of pills that he takes daily. I'm both nervous and happy with that.
No talk of him getting out of the hospital yet and that's good. This is a great respite for me!
Yeah, sainthood? Forget it. It's just not in the cards for me... ever.
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