Hubby has recently decided that he is going to get in better health. He is monitoring what he eats, he is walking more, and decided to get back on his blood pressure and diabetes medications filled. Because he is Native American, he has access to free health care but it often takes all day for him just to see a doctor.
He had a health scare.
His blood pressure was so high that it was amazing he didn’t have a stroke. He also disclosed to his doctors that he was having some chest pain and shortness of breath. Since it pointed to all signs of a heart attack, he was immediately taken to the emergency room, hooked up to monitors, given nitroglycerin, and monitored for most of the day. I had no idea until I called him after work to see where he wanted to eat dinner. All he said was that he was still at the doctor and he wanted me with him instead of home.
So I went.
I went immediately into crisis mode. I began making plans on what bills were going to get paid and which ones were going to wait. I began planning on him having a partial paycheck and then none at all. I also began looking at my work schedule to adjust it to be able to come and stay with him in the hospital so that I could talk to the doctors and be made fully aware of what was going on. They let him go two hours later with the caveat that he go home and rest. They even sent home a note for his employer saying that he was not to go to work for that night only. We came home, he ate a little bit of soup, and went to bed.
I was angry.
I was so very angry at him for not telling me what was going on. I was angry at myself for not nagging him to see a doctor when his allergies were acting up and why they never stopped being a pain (they also sent him home with an antihistamine, which cleared up that issue immediately). Then, as I began to calm down, I began questioning why in the world I was so angry. I really was angry but could not begin to understand what had me so angered. I still cannot tell you why, except that maybe it was because of the adrenaline rush I had stamped down to keep from panicking earlier.
For a moment, I made the decision that I will just live my life as if he weren’t in it, but quickly tampered that down. I think the shock of just how bad things were made me angry with him and myself that I had not spoken up before and insisted that he do something about his weight, his eating habits, and his health.
Now I can get rid of all the “bachelor food” crap he loves to eat. Now I can keep fresh veggies and cook from scratch, only a much healthier version of some of our favorite foods. And now I get my way and he has to wait for me to come home before he starts cooking so I can either guide him through the recipe or make it myself.