It was a cool summer evening when I went off to work and left hubby to fend for himself and take care of our kids. I was confident all would be well. And for a time, it was.
But of course, Daddy M likes attention. So around midnight, he called me to tell me he was puking and sleeping on the bathroom floor. I brushed this news off since he does get sick often. A few hours later he calls again and tells me his stomach is on fire. Still not surprised, I gave no real sympathy.
I finished my quiet shift at 6am and came home to sleep. I found Daddy M in our bed sprawled out. Perterbed, I made him move. A few hours later he was moaning in pain again. Still sleepy after working 16 hours, I told him to knock it off. Being the wonderful man that he his, he got up to do his moaning downstairs.
Around 10am, I woke up, came downstairs to get ready to see another client. He sat in our recliner, complaining of his stomach feeling like fire. I still was not concerned. He has liver disease and I attributed it to that or maybe kidney stones. Told him to call the doctor if he reall felt like it.
I came home around 11am. He was going to the instacare to see what was wrong. A few hours later I get a call. "The doctors are 90% positive that I have an appendicitis. We're driving to Am... Hospital now."
Grandma is freaking out.
I stay up with the kids. And scramble like heck to find someone to cover my shift that night so I can be with my husband. The people I work with aren't as nice as I thought they were. No offense, it's just fact, I really feel like if someone asked me to cover their shift because their husband was having an emergency appy. I would do it if I was not working at my other job. I had to scrounge and scrounge for someone to cover only 3 hours of my 8 hour shift. . . joy. It worked out in the end anyway.
I dropped off my kids with Grammie. Went to work. Finished. And drove right to the hospital. He was coming out of surgery as I was arriving.
See-- Things work themselves out very nicely. I didn't need to be there for the time I couldn't get covered.
I visited a while. Brought him his electronic toys. Laughed at his drugged stupor- he's actually very VERY nice when he's snowed. Not in a bad way. He was calling all the nurses and PCTs angels. I left, slept for what seemed like forever. Probably because I had about 3 hours of sleep in the last.... what? 48 hours?
All in all, things worked out. The boys got a weekend vacation with Grammie and Papa. Daddy M got to rest. I got to work and care for him and now we'll never have this issue again.
But of course, Daddy M likes attention. So around midnight, he called me to tell me he was puking and sleeping on the bathroom floor. I brushed this news off since he does get sick often. A few hours later he calls again and tells me his stomach is on fire. Still not surprised, I gave no real sympathy.
I finished my quiet shift at 6am and came home to sleep. I found Daddy M in our bed sprawled out. Perterbed, I made him move. A few hours later he was moaning in pain again. Still sleepy after working 16 hours, I told him to knock it off. Being the wonderful man that he his, he got up to do his moaning downstairs.
Around 10am, I woke up, came downstairs to get ready to see another client. He sat in our recliner, complaining of his stomach feeling like fire. I still was not concerned. He has liver disease and I attributed it to that or maybe kidney stones. Told him to call the doctor if he reall felt like it.
I came home around 11am. He was going to the instacare to see what was wrong. A few hours later I get a call. "The doctors are 90% positive that I have an appendicitis. We're driving to Am... Hospital now."
Grandma is freaking out.
I stay up with the kids. And scramble like heck to find someone to cover my shift that night so I can be with my husband. The people I work with aren't as nice as I thought they were. No offense, it's just fact, I really feel like if someone asked me to cover their shift because their husband was having an emergency appy. I would do it if I was not working at my other job. I had to scrounge and scrounge for someone to cover only 3 hours of my 8 hour shift. . . joy. It worked out in the end anyway.
I dropped off my kids with Grammie. Went to work. Finished. And drove right to the hospital. He was coming out of surgery as I was arriving.
See-- Things work themselves out very nicely. I didn't need to be there for the time I couldn't get covered.
I visited a while. Brought him his electronic toys. Laughed at his drugged stupor- he's actually very VERY nice when he's snowed. Not in a bad way. He was calling all the nurses and PCTs angels. I left, slept for what seemed like forever. Probably because I had about 3 hours of sleep in the last.... what? 48 hours?
All in all, things worked out. The boys got a weekend vacation with Grammie and Papa. Daddy M got to rest. I got to work and care for him and now we'll never have this issue again.
At least not with him.
Oh, no pictures for you! His belly looks like a yellow creature died on it from the bruises. That's all the visual-ness you're getting. :)
No comments:
Post a Comment