I hate this. This, whatever it is that is tearing my husband from us. I’m exhausted to my core and I don’t know how much more I can take.
I just want my husband back! He’s half what he was before becoming sick with the flu and it’s been a month. Yesterday marked 1 month since he was put in the hospital, intubated and sedated. Four times now, since then, he’s been back to the ER. Wednesday, we went to the doctor for follow up to him being back in the hospital on Monday. While there, he had a mild episode and they did an immediate EKG. The EKG indicated a anterior-wall myocardial infarction that “resolved” by the next EKG 5 minutes later. The doctor said it was a 1 in a million chance that this would happen while he was in the office. I just smiled.
Flash back to three hours earlier. Mike and I were talking about his appointment that day when he said something that made me a bit puzzled. He said that his appointment was at 3:15. This office NEVER does appointments at the 1/4 hour, only the hour and half hour. So, I called. It was 10:45 AM. They said he wasn’t scheduled till the 27th! I asked the nurse if there was a way that we could get him in today anyway and she said to bring him in at 1:30, the time they usually reserve for “emergency” patients. The episode started ten minutes after we went back to the exam room. It was 1:25 PM.
When this attack started, I immediately noticed and the nurse looked at me with confusion when I stopped him as he was talking, to ask if he was ok. He shook his head, like someone coming out of a fog, and tried to speak again. The nurse looked at me, I at her, and mouthed “I’m getting the doctor” I said “might be a good idea” She raced out and fetched her, along with our PA, Dan. Dan has worked with us, as a family, for almost 10 years. He KNOWS Mike (he’s actually seen Mike more than the doctor has) and immediately ordered a EKG.
After the doctor left the room and the tech was hooking Mike up, I silently prayed that they would find what was wrong and that they would ease our concerns. I had thought, for a few days, that there was something going wrong with his heart because I’ve been having odd pressure in my chest when he has these attacks.
After the second EKG, the doctor and Dan came in with the readouts (which I can read) and told us what they read. I asked to see them and the dr asked “you can read them?” When I grinned and said “I’ve seen my share of them” she looked truly perplexed. Little do they know that I study things like that in my “spare” time. I was, at one time, a nurses assistant, on the cardiac floor and I’ve read my own numerous times, since I’ve a heart issue myself.
We left there, paperwork in hand, and went to the ER. There, they did some blood work, another EKG, and sent him home. We have an appointment with MY cardiologist next week, for Mike.
So far, this year sucks. With Danyl new to diabetes, Mikes heart and my fibro (which, thankfully, hasn’t been too horribly bad) I’m finding what little sanity I was born with, growing thin.
I’m sure Sean feels left out, overwhelmed and ignored and I’m trying VERY hard to do things with/for him, like his laundry, letting him cook waffles yesterday and staying home from school. I know, I’ll get shit for THAT but, you know what, I don’t care. If my son wants to stay home and spend time with his family, who’s going through some real heavy shit, I’m NOT going to push him away. He already feels like an outsider at the age of 13. That and, selfish as it sounds, I need him around sometimes. He distracts me, in a good way. He hugs me when I feel like the weight of the world is crushing me and, damnit, I need that sometimes.
A really awesome friend recommended I set up a website to see if we could get some money to help with medical bills and, possibly, a much needed vacation. I did a few days ago and I guess putting it on here couldn’t hurt. http://www.gofundme.com/21hl4o
Last night, I woke up at 2AM and just laid in bed, listening to Mikes breathing. It’s hard to listen to him, waiting for the next inhale that seems to take forever. I flashed to the night my second husband died, 14 years ago (God, has it really been that long?) and how I woke up as he took his last breaths. I spent three hours, in the wee hours of this morning, holding the man I love in my arms, praying for God to just leave him here. I can’t lose another husband. I don’t think my heart could take that pain again. Even just contemplating it makes my chest tighten so bad I can barely breath.