You can depend on me…

or not!

You’re planning on having surgery for an aggressive bone-eating growth in your sinuses… and although you have some natural concerns (your sister just died of a brain tumor and your family has a history of cancer), you know you have the support of your friends and family.
Well… some of them anyway!

My husband, Paul, was in this situation.

I had planned to take him to the hospital up in the twin cities that morning. Since one headlight was out on the car, I wanted to get home before dark. He would stay overnight up there anyway. .

But I woke up sick with flu symptoms. This is the usual allergic response my body gives when it gets overdosed with molds, etc.
Between the nausea and other famous symptoms (need I explain?), I ended up calling Paul’s brother in a nearby town to take him to the hospital. Paul would drive our pick-up truck to their house so I could have the car and come up when I felt better and had the headlight fixed.

Paul headed outside with his overnight packsack and found the pickup had a flat tire.

OK. Think of “Plan B”. Time is getting short.

At this time I’m feeling slightly better and think I can drive the car back from his brother's. And the fresh would air help too.
But when I'm back home again, having had a friend fix the headlight, I’m feeling guilty for not being the “help-mate” I should be.

That night, from my sojourn on the couch, feeling lousy and emotionally torn, I looked around the house and noticed all the little mementoes we had picked up over the years. They wouldn’t have impressed anybody else. But each had meant something to one of us.

Guilt at not being at the hospital with Paul tormented me. What if there was a problem in surgery and I wasn’t there? How would it turn out?
Doesn’t it look awful that the wife isn’t there?
How do my friends who have been widowed make it through? How do they keep on? What are their answers?

Later that evening I talked to the doctor. Paul had made it through fine. I could pick him up the next morning.

But, the next morning I felt sick again… although better than yesterday. As Paul called from his hospital room I informed him that I was coming up to get him. And if I drove up via some smaller highways I could stop at our son’s house if I needed to rest a bit.

Now here comes the part where I realize that Paul is doing all right. He starts arguing on the phone about which way I should drive to the hospital.
The way I chose is dumb, he says. Take the freeway around town, he orders.

He called me stubborn and that’s when I realized that if he can argue like that, he’s back to normal.
And who’s being stubborn?

When our conversation continued in the same mode, I hung up on him! (I’m back to normal too!)

I called our kids and told them I’d hung up on their Dad. Just so they’d know things were OK.

And yes, it’s good to have him home again.


.