Compassion. Fatigue   Leave a comment

So, I had another post mostly done that I was going to finish up for tonight, but yesterday I had an adventure. Not an exciting or welcome one, but an adventure nonetheless.

I was supposed to be meeting my guy for dinner, our usual Tuesday night activity, when I realized my stomach wasn’t very happy. I decided to stop at a local grocery store to avail myself of their facilities (without having to buy a cup of coffee like I would have to in one of Northampton’s many cafés). After throwing up a couple of times, I realized dinner wasn’t going to happen, texted him to let him know what was going on, and ensconced myself on the patio display the store had thoughtfully set up close by the bathrooms. Just in case.

Fortunately someone I knew from my synagogue also happened to be in the bathroom at the same time, and she sat with me for a few minutes until I started to look and feel a bit better, as whatever had been bothering my digestive tract was well and truly gone. My acquaintance went off to finish her shopping, and my guy texted me back to let me know he was coming to the store to see how I was and drive me home if I needed him to.

This ended up being a good thing. Some time after that text, I started feeling really, really ill. To the point that when he got there, he offered to take me to the hospital. I agreed that would probably be a very good idea, and if I had been able to get up and walk, he would have done just that. As it was, he ended up having to call an ambulance to take me there.

(Before I go any further with the story, I will say I am fine. The problem ended up being dehydration after having been sick.  It wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t life-threatening, either.)

My second ambulance ride wasn’t any more fun than my first – that being the one I had to take with my son after the sledding accident where he tried to take out a small stand of trees with his head – but did get me to the hospital without my having to stand up. Which was a definite plus. And after about twenty minutes of sitting/lying in a hallway on my gurney trying to sign my name to release forms with an IV in my right arm that made it really difficult to move my arm enough to write, someone came over and asked if I had anyone in the waiting room.

It was a huge relief when they brought him over to me. He had actually beaten the ambulance to the ER and had been waiting to find out what was going on. Apparently, the waiting room was full – it was an oddly busy night at the hospital – and a bunch of people who were waiting to be treated were annoyed that he was called into the inner sanctum before they were.

The nurses brought him a chair, and we stayed in the hallway for several hours, him holding my hand and talking to me, as I gradually felt better thanks to the bag of saline solution attached to my gurney. Arrangements were made for my ex to stay at my house with the boy in case I needed to stay at the hospital overnight for observation, and we settled in to wait. He made me laugh when he joked that having the beds in the hallway made moving people around seem like a giant game of Tetris, moved out of the way when one of nurses came to draw blood for tests – needle phobia being something we share, and held the bendy-straw in the cup of water I was allowed to have to my lips so I could drink from it. The rest of the time, he held my hand.

After several hours, we were moved into a room, the nurses thanking us for being so patient, where we waited to find out the results of all of the tests that had been done. By this time it was a bit after ten o’clock, and I was feeling much more like myself. A tired version of myself, but myself. When the doctor finally discharged me – there was “a bit of a backlog” we had been told – it was close to midnight, and we had both been dozing. He walked me through the lobby and sat me down so he could get his car to drive me back to the supermarket where mine was still parked. As we left, the nurses told us how sweet they found the two of us.

During the short drive, he quizzed me to make sure I felt up to driving back home and informed me he would be following me back to my house to make sure I got there safely, even though it would mean a) he would be driving way out of his way and b) the extra miles would increase his trip home by forty minutes.

As I crashed into bed with my very vocal cat who had apparently been wondering where the hell I was all night, all I could think was how lucky I was. Not only that nothing was seriously wrong with me, but that I have found someone as kind and caring as he is.

Tonight I am planning to go to bed nice and early. I feel better, but better still feels a bit like having been run over by a pickup truck. But on reflection, I can honestly say that while last night wasn’t the evening I had been hoping for, it was a good one nonetheless.

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Posted May 24, 2017 by wordsaremylife in random thoughts

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