“Why are you crying? He’ll be fine soon.”
The surgeon had just approached me as I stood, fearful, in the hospital corridor outside my husband’s room. “Recovery from a ruptured appendix just takes longer,” he continued. “No need to be upset.”
In my heart I knew that my husband of 21 years was not recovering on the 4th day after surgery. I stayed with him throughout each day, waiting for signs of improvement, but saw none. He was unable to eat or walk unassisted, and was in constant abdominal pain. I tried to be calm and reassuring while at his bedside, but late each night, as I drove home to shower, change my clothes, and check on our kids, I was so scared I couldn’t even pray. For the first time in my life I could not pray. I was filled with fear as I felt my husband was dying. He kept telling me how much he loved me.
On the evening of the 4th day, he seemed to feel a bit better and suggested I go home and get a good night’s sleep as he planned to do the same. I reluctantly agreed to go home, and as I left his room he smiled and said, “You need to be with the kids.”
©Pat Montesano 2008 All Rights Reserved.