Excuse Me If I Doze Off
September 13, 2007
After getting in bed around midnight last night for reasons I’ll blog about later, I was awoken during the 3 am hour by my husband. He told me “my chest feels like it’s caving in”. In the sweetest, most loving tone I was capable of mustering, I asked if I could, “get him a Tylenol” (Hey, it was 3 am!). He didn’t reply, so I asked if he needed to go to the hospital, to which he said yes. I jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes, and called my mother to come stay with the boys. I was convinced he was having a heart attack. He’s 43, and carries alot of excess weight around his belly. I was waiting in the driveway when my mom got there, and we merely exchanged waves. I got to the hospital in record time, breaking every traffic law known to man, except DUI of corse. The ride there was pretty silent, and I took turns praying for his life, our safety for the drive, and thinking of how we would make it financially if he had to be off work for several months.
We got to the hospital, and had to wait in line behind someone else, who was, in my opinion not in as serious condition as I believed J to be. When it came our turn to register, the receptionist had to ask all those STUPID questions before he could be seen. I was getting angry at the whole ordeal, because, in my head he was dying, and it wouldn’t matter if our address had changed or where he had worked if he were dead. The girl was just trying to do her job, but I was getting so frustrated that I kept cutting her off. She would ask “Do you still work at Gra-” YES, I would snap. This process continued for a while, and I just wanted to scream, “Look you friggin’ witch, we were just in here last friggin’ month with our son, NONE of our information has changed since then. If you want, I’ll come out here before I leave, tell you everything you need to know, down to his army discharge number, if you will just let him in to see the Dr.”
After what seemed like an hour he finally was put in a “room” (aka, a cubicle with curtains for a wall). Long story short, his heart was fine, and it’s probably his gallbladder. He’s presently at home in bed, sleeping thanks to the aid of all the pain meds. I however, got home just in time to shower and come straight to work. I feel & look like crap. I haven’t had to go through a day on 3 hours of sleep in a long time, and I’m not looking forward to it, at all, but at least J is okay.
Oh yeah, if you’re wondering about the excessive use of the words “crap” and “friggin” in this post, I made a deal with the Big Guy on the way to the hospital that if J was alright I would quit cursing. It’s a decade old habit that will be very hard to break, espically in my work enviornment. Wish me luck.