On Monday afternoon my husband blacked out in a grocery store parking lot. He fell all the way to the ground, injuring his knee and his pride. Some good Samaritans helped him up and he finished some shopping and drove home. I didn't know about this until I got home a couple hours later. After two hours of harping and cajoling, I talked him into a trip to the ER. When we arrived at the ER, his pulse and blood pressure were very, very low. He was lightheaded and dizzy.
To make a long story short (er), he has spent the last two days in the hospital. The doctors are not really sure what caused the problem, but they are running lots of tests and are changing some of his medications. He has been xrayed, photographed, magnetized and poked. He is ready to come home. He wants his knee to stop hurting. He is counting his blessings.
Nothing like a little jolt in the daily life to make you appreciate what you can sometimes take for granted. I am fairly sure that I need to stop writing about this right now. I think I need to get some much needed sleep so I can face the hospital again tomorrow. I think it will eventually hit me that he had a very close call and that things could have been so much worse. I hope it hits me when I am feeling stronger. I hope it hits me when I am not exhausted and worried about him, our family and work. I hope I can forget that this happened and go back to not worrying about this happening again. The bliss of not imagining what my life would be like without him in it. The bliss of life the way it was before Monday.