The bottom fell out from under us about a month ago. My husband had been sick all fall. He was traveling more than ever, but had this cold he couldn't shake. He even went to an allergist, and then an acupuncturist to try to relieve some sinus pressure. We couldn't figure out what it was, but he just couldn't shake it. He bought an air purifier, mounds of vitamin C tablets, anything he could to feel better.
In about October I finally text-shamed him enough to go to urgent care. I told him I wanted a blood test because I knew something wasn't right, but he told me that the doctor there said I wasn't a doctor and it was just bronchitis. A blood test wouldn't have shown anything anyway, but an x-ray would have. They didn't take an x-ray.
The bronchitis never seemed to clear up, so on the way back from church one Sunday in November he said he thought he'd go back to Urgent Care. That was wise, I told him. Maybe it was pneumonia.
He went to Urgent Care, and waited for 2 hours, but I was leading a social group at a nearby playground, so he left the line and came home to watch our youngest for me so I could lead my group. Guilt. Not that a few hours would have made a difference, but still.
After he'd returned to Urgent Care I was at home with the girls when he called to say that Urgent Care wanted him to go to the ER. I gathered the girls together, got coats, and a bag of toys to keep them busy, when he called back. "They won't let me go in the car" he explained, "They say I have to go in an ambulance."
"An ambulance?" I scoffed. "That's ridiculous. The ER isn't far away. We can come get you. An ambulance for pneumonia?" I still didn't get it. I figured it was a CYA moment for Urgent Care. I work in special education. I know all about CYA.
My six year old heard the word ambulance and froze. Literally froze. Dropped the bags from her hands. The three year old, who'd been busy gathering her doctor kit and chatting with Cleo about how their daddies were going to the hospital, threw her doctor kit down as well. She burst into tears. "But I have to take care of him!" she cried, big tears running down her cheeks.
That moment, that evening, that phone call, replays in my head constantly, as the moment everything changed. Life shifted then. Our happy plan of heading out the door to take Daddy to the hospital for pneumonia was turned upside down. The girls had been so happy to get to go take care of their daddy, and the minute they heard the word ambulance everything seemed to change.
Two different sets of good friends came to the rescue that night. First the father of one of our friends came to watch the girls for dinner. I still hadn't made it to the grocery store that weekend, and I just remember pulling out the freezer and staring at it. Frozen meatballs... frozen applesauce... frozen corn. Sure, that works... He kindly told me to go, he was on it.
Later, he was relieved by another friend who came and slept on our couch so I could spend the night with my husband at the hospital. Friends that you can call at a moments notice - friends who can leave their own kids and can get to your house right away - friends that your kids are already so comfortable with that they don't blink an eye when you leave them with three bags of frozen food and a few kisses and run out the door. Those friends are priceless.
In about October I finally text-shamed him enough to go to urgent care. I told him I wanted a blood test because I knew something wasn't right, but he told me that the doctor there said I wasn't a doctor and it was just bronchitis. A blood test wouldn't have shown anything anyway, but an x-ray would have. They didn't take an x-ray.
The bronchitis never seemed to clear up, so on the way back from church one Sunday in November he said he thought he'd go back to Urgent Care. That was wise, I told him. Maybe it was pneumonia.
He went to Urgent Care, and waited for 2 hours, but I was leading a social group at a nearby playground, so he left the line and came home to watch our youngest for me so I could lead my group. Guilt. Not that a few hours would have made a difference, but still.
After he'd returned to Urgent Care I was at home with the girls when he called to say that Urgent Care wanted him to go to the ER. I gathered the girls together, got coats, and a bag of toys to keep them busy, when he called back. "They won't let me go in the car" he explained, "They say I have to go in an ambulance."
"An ambulance?" I scoffed. "That's ridiculous. The ER isn't far away. We can come get you. An ambulance for pneumonia?" I still didn't get it. I figured it was a CYA moment for Urgent Care. I work in special education. I know all about CYA.
My six year old heard the word ambulance and froze. Literally froze. Dropped the bags from her hands. The three year old, who'd been busy gathering her doctor kit and chatting with Cleo about how their daddies were going to the hospital, threw her doctor kit down as well. She burst into tears. "But I have to take care of him!" she cried, big tears running down her cheeks.
That moment, that evening, that phone call, replays in my head constantly, as the moment everything changed. Life shifted then. Our happy plan of heading out the door to take Daddy to the hospital for pneumonia was turned upside down. The girls had been so happy to get to go take care of their daddy, and the minute they heard the word ambulance everything seemed to change.
Two different sets of good friends came to the rescue that night. First the father of one of our friends came to watch the girls for dinner. I still hadn't made it to the grocery store that weekend, and I just remember pulling out the freezer and staring at it. Frozen meatballs... frozen applesauce... frozen corn. Sure, that works... He kindly told me to go, he was on it.
Later, he was relieved by another friend who came and slept on our couch so I could spend the night with my husband at the hospital. Friends that you can call at a moments notice - friends who can leave their own kids and can get to your house right away - friends that your kids are already so comfortable with that they don't blink an eye when you leave them with three bags of frozen food and a few kisses and run out the door. Those friends are priceless.
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