In an attempt to preserve my sanity, I turn to writing, probably revealing more than Michael would like me to, so I will just hope that he forgives me.
I was awakened at 5:42 this morning by the phone ringing. Michael told me in a scratchy voice (because he has a tube down his throat) that he had been moved to ICU. His symptoms had grown worse overnight, his vital signs were askew, and I guess some labs they did showed signs of trouble. I got another call about an hour later from him telling me that they were taking him into surgery. Holy fuck. Suddenly I’m numb and panicky all at once. And I swear to you, the moment I got off the phone with him, it seemed as if a blood vessel in my nose decided to burst because suddenly I had a major nosebleed on my hands. I held my head over the bathroom sink while the blood flowed for five solid minutes. I guess just my body’s little response to stress.
What to tell the kids? I can’t fall apart, I can’t. So just put one foot in front of the other, try to go about our morning business the same as usual. I left Kevin in charge and ran to Starbucks to get a caffeine fix. I should have gone to a different Starbucks, one where the baristas don’t know me. I swear if one person looks at me kindly, I will come apart.
The good wishes and moral support are pouring in via Facebook and email. I have to let people know what’s going on; otherwise I am truly all alone in this.
I got home with my jumbo coffee and made breakfast for the kids. I haven’t told them anything. They just know that Daddy is still in the hospital because something is wrong in his tummy, and we don’t know when he’ll get to come home. Yesterday they were asking me if he would have to have an operation. I didn’t know, and I told them so. Now I know, but I don’t know what to tell them. Daisy is being hit especially hard by all this. Not surprising – she is our most sensitive, emotional one. I am trying very hard to be patient with her clinginess and give her all the TLC she needs, even as it makes me feel as if I’m coming out of my skin.
The nurse in charge of Michael’s care called me, and I took the phone in the bedroom and not surprisingly, could no longer hold back the tears. Is he going to be okay? Yes, they think so. The surgery is expected to last 2 – 4 hours, and he will likely be in the hospital for 5 – 7 days.
One foot in front of the other.