Have you ever had that moment where you realize that your life as you know it could dramatically change? Where in just a split second this awful knowledge that your life just might never be the same again? There is this blanket of fear that sweeps over you. It’s so heavy you can feel it settling on every square inch of your skin. You hear this rapid ‘thumpthumpthump’ beating in your ears. Time seems to just slow as you look around for the source of the noise. Every other sound is distorted like someone has slowed down the sound track. The very moment you realize it’s your heart making that sound everything zips back to the right speed. It feels like hours when in reality it’s just been miliseconds.
I got a phone call today and it was my husband. He said he just didn’t feel right. Felt like his heart was pounding and he was having a hard time breathing. He called the doctor and they told him to get to the ER. When he called back I asked him if he wanted me to meet him or to come pick him up. I asked him repeatedly if he was ok to drive. He assured me he was and that he was just a couple minutes away from the hospital. I headed out of the house and after talking to the front desk found out that he wasn’t there yet. I tossed my keys on a chair and sat down. No sonner had I taken a seat I heard that automatic doors swish open and heard a thud. I heard the lady at the desk call out “Sir..” and stood to look around the corner.
There on his knees on the floor, gasping like a fish out of water, was my husband. He held out a hand and his antibiotics bottle dropped from it and his head dropped forward. I ran over, calling his name, and dropped down to my knees on the floor in front of him. I grabbed his shoulders and he moved just enough to put his forehead against my chest. I cradled his head in my arm and began to rock slowly side to side while rubbing his back. Between me telling him to breath I tried to answer the questions that were tossed my way. It took me three tries to remember his birthday. Someone picked up the bottle while someone else ran back to get a gourney. There I sat on the floor with him cradled in my arms listening to him gasp and rattle as he tried to breath. I suddenly realized it was really quiet and looked down and he just wasn’t breathing. That blanket of fear tightened around me and I yelled “Jesus Christ he’s stopped fucking breathing!” I started pounding him on the back and telling him to breath. I turned my head and saw the gurney rushing towards us and suddenly hear the sound of him gasping for air again. They took him out of my arms and lifted him onto the gourney. I somehow managed to gain my feet and even managed to pick my keys back up before following them to a trauma room.
He was babbling with each breath he took and I couldn’t really understand what he was saying. The nurses could. I don’t know if they are forced to sit down and watch hours of Ozzy talking to learn that mumble language. I just know that they were asking him questions and he would say something and they knew what he was saying. They took vial after vial of blood. They put him on oxygen and did an EKG. They repeatedly asked me if he took drugs. Even cocaine or meth, the doctor said like they are just afterthought drugs. No, no, no. Finally I could take it no more, “For Fucks Sake! NO!” I answered for the last time. Then I sat there and watched while they waited for the results.
He had an adverse reaction, not an allergic reaction because that includes a rash, to his antibiotic. It made him sick to his stomach. He felt like something was caught in his throat. That something was sitting on his chest. The nausea made him throw up. Throwing up combined with the heat caused heat exhaustion. He was really close to a heat stroke.
He’s alseep right now. Sleeping off the antinasuea medicine. I keep going in and poking him to make sure he’s still breathing.
