The kids are told the news.....Dad has something we can treat...but it does seem to be cancer....
I get an email from school, our dear friend, husband of Connor's first teacher, young, only 46, has fallen to a massive heart attack. I rock back and forth with new tears.
My co-workers are calling me. They fear bothering me, but they encourage me to keep going...no one ever really cared about me...or at least, I never felt like I was worth caring about....truly a screw up...never living up to my potential....except Bob loved me....Bob obsessed about me for some reason...Bob believed in God and redemption because I loved him.....
Jill drops off a big bag with clothes, underwear, soft sweats, shampoo, starbucks and trail mix.....I see God in that caring....she is my friend forever, and I promise to God to drop everything if she ever needs help......
I go home Sunday night....the RCR sisters I've found, got my message from the hospital computer and a fruit basket awaits....will these DAMN tears not stop!!!What happened to my ability to compartmentalize, to postpone feelings....
No, I am present....and I know that this is healthy sorrow....I have evolved in this life.
The phone rings, its Bob - "hon, you didn't leave my KEYS!" he complains...."What do you need keys for honey, you have 4 tumors in your head!" He calmly explains he has that golf tournament....oh Christ...
I call his friend Chris and tell him what is happening....Silence and sorrow in the young man's voice......."I'll tell everyone....and tell him not to worry..."Within hours, the young golf pro is in to visit Bob,bringing books and magazines for him......his eyes are sad and his tone compassionate as he talks to Bob who is in and out of the past and present.....
I go to my room, and call Bob's sister - its time to call Bob's sons, and ex....its that bad.
Jill calls me and says to relax, she'll walk Bob to the bathroom and check on him through the night.
I drive the kids to school Monday morning, Connor is very calm," I am not scared at all, Dad is going to be fine.."....
I begin to panic and speed down the highway...suppose the tumor bled, suppose he fell out of bed and they have to tie him down...suppose......"
Racing to his room, he is munching a second breakfast, spilling out of his left side and he smiles and says, "mornin' hon!" I start to cry and push aside the table, as he grabs a bagel with one hand and wraps the other arm around me..." Iwas so scared honey... I just don't do well when you're not there!" He pats my shoulder, "oh, I'm fine....did you bring my keys?"
I am aghast, "BOB, you are having brain surgery tomorrow, NO you can't have your keys!" He looks at me condescendingly...that same superior look he would give me in our days at AT&T decades previously, when only my lust kept me from kicking him in the shins!
"Now, aren't you getting a little carried away?" AAARGH..
"NO, I'm not!"
He looks a little worried now...oh God, no, let me calm him, he says, beseechingly, "could we drive up to the tournament and just watch a little and then come back, if I don't hit any balls?"
"Sweetie, I already told them you can't be there...lets just be together today...life will seem more reasonable tomorrow after surgery ok?"
He nods, hugs my arm to his heart and goes to sleep.
Meanwhile... 24 hours of Tiger woods blares on every TV channel... In the grand scheme of things, this will not go down in history, but I'm developing a lifelong HATE of Tiger Woods and his usurping of the news for the past day and a half!!!
The doc meets me in the hall, "Well he's back to baseline! Appropriate and he can be up ad lib!"
I go to the nurses and comment, "you all realize that Bob is out to lunch?" They nod..."Yes, he is so smart, he acts like he's with the program,but talk to him a bit and you realize he's clueless! Relax Miss Schmitt, we got him under control"..
Good ole nurses! I note they have placed floor mats and armed his bed exit alarm...
Good ole Sentara fall precautions and nurse sense!
We spend the day watching TV, in our favorite mode of being wrapped up together...we never take that pleasure for granted....we always had a perfect fit...like pieces of a puzzle and for over 20 years have always reveled in that fit....
I go home again that night...we are on the 14th now...the cocky brain surgeon has him on the schedule. Alexa helps me wrap Christmas presents.....I suddenly get the urge to rearrange the bedroom to something romantic, relaxing....Alexa and I order a new sleigh bed with gifts from my soul mate friend in NY...only 200 dollars on closeout ....frm 1100....and we rearrange the room...
As I watch the kids sleep, the dogs curled up with Mom in her room, I realize I havent' eatin in 2 days except for coffee.....I have half a pumpernickel bagel and a glass of wine...oh how I want a second glass......oh.... to prolong the brief blotto feeling of alcohol soothing the soul....but I will not......I will NOT....
Was there a time, I muse, as the booze hits my brain, a time when life did not include a gut wrenching pain that preceeding heaving sobs that shook the body and made the head throb? Was there a time I could speak without tears coming to my eyes?
With a psychic hug to the thousands of people I've cared for over the past 20 years who have known this feeling, and I always reassured them that is was not God punishing them...it was just their turn, and one day it would be mine.
Its just my turn......
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