Love’s Wisdom … or, a Case of the Uglies

“Hi, honey,” he managed. He had already charmed the doctors and nurses, cracking jokes before and after waking up from the anesthesia. He hummed a little ditty as they changed his gauze. One of the nurses gave me a list of instructions on how to take care of their favorite patient, and I tried not to panic, envisioning the potentially deadly side effects of mixing up the medications.   

He waited with the doctor on the sidewalk while I brought the car around, and he was quite pleased with himself for being able to walk from the doctor’s arm to the car all by himself. Underneath the puffiness, I was pretty sure I saw a smile. But when we got home he collapsed immediately, tender, sore, and a little bit scared.

The next day, I took off from work to be with him. Neither one of us realized how fragile he would be, so though at first he tried to be brave about the whole thing, he didn’t resist when I insisted. I spent the day with my imaginary nurse hat on, proud of my efforts and leadership skills. I helped him walk, eat, and sip soup and Gatorade. I monitored his drugs. I made sure he was comfortable. I even talked to his parents in Pasadena several times to update them on his condition. That night he fell asleep in bed and I fell asleep beside him, lovingly overlooking both the snoring and the subtle yet pungent funky smell that had begun to waft over the apartment.   

Then, without warning, everything shifted. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like a hand was squeezing my heart. I couldn’t breathe. Dear God, was this a heart attack? I didn’t want to wake him, but the spasms came and went like clockwork for almost an hour. I roused him reluctantly. Immediately, he said, “We’re going to the hospital.”

Once there, hooked up to three machines, I looked over at him and realized what a funny-looking pair we must be, me clutching my chest and he with a face still completely swollen and black and blue on one side. The doctor, a woman, came into my room and opened my gown to adjust the various gadgets monitoring my heart.  “Looks good,” she said while my gown was hanging open, and he couldn’t help but respond, “They do look great, don’t they?” The doctor didn’t get it, but he and I giggled after she left.