Yeah, it’s 3:00am EST. and yeah, I just got home from the ER.
This is going to be a bitch-about-my-husband type blog that I just need to get out so I will feel better about it all. So…if you’re sensitive to these types of things, please don’t read on. If not…here goes.
Today was my nephew’s 11th birthday and I’m sitting at dinner and get a phone call from the hubbs. He tells me he passed out, hit his head and was on the bottom of the shower when he came to. He goes on to tell me that he was not dizzy (rules out vertigo) and that he just put his hands up over his head, passed out and came to on his ass. I was like…wtf???
I tell him ok, I’ll check back with you…called a friend who also has APS to have her call him and see how he’s “really” doing…and then proceeded to eat. Then I get a text that says “I am scared”. Ok…so he passed out, hit his head, and is scared. I decide to cut the night short and go home after my nephew opens his gifts.
When I get home, he has already printed (and updated, mind you) his illness/surgery/medication list…so basically, he KNOWS he’s going to the ER. I walk in…oooh and the jackass didn’t feed the animals…but that is another blog…and tell him we’re going and if he wants to eat before we do then here’s his dinner (I brought him dinner home)
So he eats dinner, changes and we’re off.
We pulled into the ER and the more I think about it I’m like…it’s stupid we go in, it happened too many hours ago, he feels fine and so we kind of turn around…but keep driving in this big circle around the hospital campus…we were talking and basically we talked ourselves back into going in because there could really be something wrong…he passed out, wasn’t dizzy and his his head while on blood thinners…none of these are good. So better to be safe than sorry, right.
Well when 2 ambulances passed us going in and I had to park in the spill over ER lot…AND there was a helicopter landing at the hospital as I walked in…and omg for the first time EVER there was a LINE at the desk…I knew we were in for a long night.
We were sent straight back to triage and got a nurse who knew us, so she kind of pushed us through a bit. He had an EKG done and then we went in to see a doctor. We spoke to the doctor and she ordered a chest x-ray, CT scan of his head and blood work and he needed to be hooked up to a heart monitor…and then the doctor comes back and says that everything looks ok, but they don’t know what is going on and want to admit him overnight for observation and do a chest CT with contrast.
There’s where I become the worst wife in the world. Before we left Todd’s words to me were, “I do not want to be admitted”. But with everything he has going on, it’s ALWAYS a possibility.
So then I’m basically being BLAMED for him being admitted. Like I fucking gave him APS and all of his other issues…no todd, blame your genes or your parents’ genes hun, not me. I just married you. I didn’t birth you.
He all but said, “It’s your fault”…he might as well said that. He was so mad and his vitals and heart monitor were going nuts. Nice.
I know he’s pissed and doesn’t want to be there overnight and if I didn’t have to get home to give Topaz his meds, I’d still be up there, but if the doctors think he needs to stay for observation, then why question that? Don’t THEY know better than us…well, in theory anyways.
So, there in the ER room I was made to feel like I’m the worst wife in the world. How dare I bring my husband in…Like I wanted him to be admitted and PLANNED it.
Hell, if I could do that, wouldn’t I have planned for a husband who wasn’t sick…
Ugh…I am married to the most stubbornest man alive!!!!
And tomorrow I have to (hopefully, God willing) pick this crab up from the hospital and go through the mess again.
Someone hold me.
