It’s been a bit of an emotional day for me. Lots of interesting experiences- all compounded by my pregnancy, I’m sure, but even still, I feel the need to get some of it out.
This morning John went to the doctor for an endoscopy/colonoscopy combo. I didn’t anticipate being so nervous as we drove there. It’s a rather routine procedure…not so much in our family, but most people who heard about what he had to do had either had one or knew someone who had. There was virtually no risk at all. We got there, I watched him fill out paperwork, and then they took him back. He handed me his sunglasses and then his ring, and then went through the door. As I sat there I started to worry. What if something went wrong? What if something was wrong in HIM that made this test less routine? I hadn’t hugged him before he went back there, what if I didn’t have the chance again? I quickly stopped THAT line of thinking as it was NOT helpful and almost a little ridiculous, and decided to watch people around me instead.
I quickly noticed that all the people in the waiting room were old. There was one couple that came in and sat in front of me who were probably in their late 70′s or early 80′s….I couldn’t tell. What struck me was… they were holding hands. They weren’t, however, holding hands like people do walking around BYU campus. It wasn’t ostentatious or needy- they didn’t seem to have to work at it or shift themselves awkwardly in their seats to maintain a perfect grip. They simply had their hands fit together. They both looked soft, tired, but not worn out or used up. The man said to the woman, “Are you nervous?” She answered, “No, not really. They’ll put me to sleep, I won’t remember it.” He said, “Well then how are you supposed to give me an opinion or recommendation?” She laughed, but it was completely silent. It was more of a glowing than a laughing really, but it accomplished the same thing. He just smiled. When they called her back he moved his chair to be closer to the door where she would come out. It literally broke my heart. You know that good/bad beautifully sad kind of feeling? I just sat there looking at my ring on my left hand and John’s ring on my right and realizing that someday we would be old. And I hope he waits by the door for me, too.
The other emotional thing was that as people were done with their tests the nurse came into the waiting area to call the person there to sit with them. Every other person or so wasn’t there, for whatever reason, and it dawned on me that the person laying in the bed inside had to wake up on their own. It was a strange juxtaposition to the sweet man sitting by the recovery door as if he was waiting at the altar for his bride to walk down the aisle. It was VERY dramatic in my head- and I was grateful to have some homework to work on so that I was distracted from all the things I had running through my head about love and marriage and humanity and my need for John to live forever. And ever.
When they called me back John was totally PASSED OUT. It took him a long time to wake up- and although when he finally did come to he was making me laugh with his incoherent comments- I was desperate for him to keep his eyes open and make some sense. John’s Mom came and waited for us. It was good to see her and know that I had someone there to help me get him home. Men on drugs are HEAVY, and usually I wouldn’t mind helping him the the car/house…I was afraid that if he fell it could be bad for the baby. She waited in the waiting room while I helped him wake up and get dressed. If you’ve never had to help someone you love put on their shoes as they lie in a hospital bed, be grateful. However benign the situation actually is, it can make you realise just how sensitive all this happiness is.
We got home and I went out to get his meds and some food. I went home and we just visited as John was still working his way into coherency. When Becca came over she brought our two nephews and our niece, and 6 little arms giving me hugs were just the pick me up I needed to get me out of my temperamental fears. All in all, I’m glad it’s over. I’m glad we know more about his condition and might know even more in a week or so, and that John may be able to have a more normal diet. We’ll have to see. But more than anything, I’m just glad he’s fine. And that we get to belong to each other and have as many years as we can possibly imagine perfectly our hand holding.
