So it's like 10:45 in the evening and I'm sitting in the Emergency Room. The Man is sick. I really, REALLY hate it when he's sick. He's been sick before, and he's been sick recently, and every. single. I tell him he's gonna be okay, but in the back of my mind, I worry that he won't be.
Now that they've pumped him full of Morphine for his pain, I can cry without worrying him, or having HIM trying to comfort ME while he's lying there in his hospital gown, with his IV and the blanket we always take when he has to go to the hospital (no matter what hospital we go to, you can be sure it's gonna be FREEZING). I don't have to tell him that he's going to be fine when I'm desperately afraid that he won't be and that one of these days he's not going to make it. I know the body can stand a lot of pain, and that he has been through worse...but what if he doesn't want to anymore? What if he just...gives up?
I try not to let these thoughts of doom and gloom get to settled in my head. I have to be strong for him. I kiss his head and tell him that I love him (because if something does happen, I want it to be the last thing that I said to him), and I shove the scary thoughts out of my head again. He tells me that he loves me too (for the same reason?) and goes back to sleep.
And I will read my book and sit here. When he wakes up, I'll be sitting here waiting for whatever happens next. No tears, no drama, calmly ready to help The Man with whatever he needs, for as long as he needs it.
and I'll say a quiet prayer that he'll be okay. Please let him be okay.