Driving down the road, refrained by the traffic of a red sox game. The sounds of surrounding strangers infuriate me. Their frank flirting, drunk dancing in the streets make me hate them. Why? Is it anger? Jealousy? I’m resentful that I can’t be irresponsible, reckless, insincere. I'm envious at their indifference.
The whole day is gone. Nothing happened but it’s over before it even began. Waiting under half lit fluorescent lights, this feeling is all too familiar. That saying is all familiar. But change is not what I need right now. I need familiarity, a common thread to get me through. Even if that common thread is the familiar floor of a hospital that Steve spent 6 months in less than 2 years ago. If he needs to be in a hospital I would rather him be on the medical floor of a hospital where all the nurses know his name. Know my name.
Steve spent another 6 days in the hospital with excruciating groin and back pain. They initially thought it was kidney stones but no kidney stones were found. His pancreatic levels were elevated so they are assuming he had pancreatitis again. No CT was done because he had one last week and they don’t want to over-radiate him. Now they tell us. They sent him home to rest, eat a bland diet. Give his pancreas a chance for respite. The doctors have no logical reason as to why the head of his pancreas is now causing Steve pain. Time will have to tell.
He’s home, 10 lbs lighter, a little sore but unscathed nonetheless.
Me? I’m three months pregnant.
Facing the realization that I might forever have a sick husband and now a baby. It’s not necessarily a stressful situation but rather, life. No time to take my ball and go home. Besides where’s the fun in that? It seems the hypothetical “battle” has been won but the war has just begun. We really are the Newlywed Death Fighters.