Hubby had a medical problem that sent him to the hospital today. His eyesight in one eye all of a sudden had gaps in it. True to form, he quickly downloaded a test off the internet, the results of which were enough to get him to pick up the phone and get an emergency appointment with an opthamologist. Hubby is a diabetic you see, and eye problems are frequent with them.
So I tried to concentrate on work while he went off to the hospital, and I tried to ignore the various scary scenarios that presented themselves to my mind like so many demons poking their heads in through the doorway.
Blindness. Inability to work. Inability to drive.
Suddenly there loomed before me the prospect of my slightly estranged husband becoming someone who needed assistance. And that is topsy-turvy. The ground liquified under my feet.
Hubby is my Rock. In fact, he is quite a few people's Rock. He's the one you can always count on, whether you need something fixed or need a lift somewhere.
He's the stubborn old goat who knows perfectly well what he should be eating and how much exercise he should be getting, yeah yeah yeah, not bloody likely... Mr. "Not Dead Yet", always ready to poke fun at life, quick with the bon mot, taking perverse pleasure in the downfall of the stupid and foolish. A shoulder to lean on, relentless in his pursuit of technology, and an unflagging curiosity that leaves no stone unturned in his determination to be right about everything.
To say I was sick with worry would be an understatement. The whole world had suddenly shifted on its axis. Hubby might be in trouble. Hubby might not be immortal, after all. In fact, there may come a time when Hubby might no longer be there, at all. The thought left me reeling.
Quite a few people depend on Hubby always being there, always being himself. Not the least of which is Hubby! In shock from a) being seen immediately, and b) being treated immediately, he took tomorrow off to recover a bit. Perhaps he'll be assessing his mortality, taking stock of how he should be changing his diet or his sedentary lifestyle.
If I were living with him, I'd be wanting him to stay in bed and bringing him tea. And hovering over him, worrying. As it is, I'll be worrying from a distance and wondering what he's doing. Wondering if this incident was the tip of the proverbial iceberg, and how long we may have before another tremor shakes the foundation of our reality. Wondering if this will be a wake-up call for him. As it was for me.
We do not know what the future holds for us, nor how long we have with each other. Every moment is more precious than we know.
No comments:
Post a Comment