She awoke that morning not to the familiar feel of his hand sliding toward her breast nor the noise of their children arguing over the Nintendo, but to the sound of him groaning beside her in pain.
"My stomach." He stopped to hold his breath while he gripped the sheets in his fists. "It hurts."
When the pain got so bad that he bolted out of bed to throw up in the toilet, she did some fretting, then she did some Googling, then she drove him to the hospital. It was almost as terrifying as the time she'd driven her son there. With her knuckles white on the steering wheel, she wracked her brain for words that might comfort him - or any words at all - but it turned out she was too paralyzed to speak.
They were greeted at the doors of the Emergency Room by a wheelchair and a perfectly-timed cardboard barf carton. Then she was greeted with the irony that after months of living together unofficially, he gave her address to the nurse at the registration desk. Their address.
He was vomiting again when the intake nurse took his blood pressure, so the numbers were dangerously high. And that scared her too. In fact, everything scared her - the size of the nurse's double-wide metal clipboard, the way the hospital bed squeaked when he writhed in pain, the cold, clammy feel of his skin under her hand, even the unfamiliar metallic smell of his sweat on the hospital gown. She couldn't decide which intimidated her more - touching him or NOT touching him.
Because of his extreme pain, they were pinballed into the diamond lane, where there was virtually no waiting. Three minutes to get a bed. Five until the nurse started an IV. Less than ten before the drugs arrived. The nurse moved as if turbo charged, first pushing motrin into the IV to keep any swelling down, then flushing it with saline, then pushing in the Dilaudid, then flushing it again to make sure he'd gotten every last drop.
When the nurse left and they were alone again, she watched as his body miraculously began to uncurl from the pain. "Thank God for drugs," she said, even though neither of them even remotely believed in God.
When the doctor came in, he first referred to her as the patient's daughter, then asked how long the two of them had been married.
"We're not married," they insisted in unison and she supressed an urge to cross herself.
"It's definitely a kidney stone," the bearded, bestpectacled doctor informed them with relief, "A big one."
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Hours later, when the medication had kicked in and they were home from the hospital, he pulled her into bed and wrapped his arms around her.
"Thank you," he said, squeezing her so tight it took her breath away.
"I'm just glad you're alive." She reached up and rubbed his bald head, pulling him even closer.
Then, because it hurt to lay on his right side, they rolled over and she spooned him instead.
"I just keep falling for you, harder and harder," he admitted.
"That pain medication must be better than booze." He had always been a romantic drunk.
"But the thing is," he went on, "I can't believe how EASY it is. It's never been this easy."
"Maybe we were just doing it wrong or with the wrong people before."
"God, I love you."
"I love you, too," she said.
And she'd never meant it more.
Again with the tear inducing blog. Love it.
Posted by: Mollye | July 02, 2011 at 11:28 PM
So sweet...just lovely.
Posted by: Adrienne | July 03, 2011 at 06:49 AM
Such pain shouldn't make one smile so. Sweet cement.
Posted by: Amber | July 03, 2011 at 09:08 AM
This is powerful and quite moving overall. It would be even moreso if you could manage to write something like this without having to get in a nasty little dig at your ex. It's petty and juvenile and it's a sour note that smacks of agenda in an otherwise well written piece
Posted by: s.a. | July 03, 2011 at 09:29 AM
We felt the same way: "Hey, this is too easy and too fast. Shouldn't we be worried?" 19 years, many illnesses and two kids later...
Posted by: MeiLinMiranda | July 03, 2011 at 10:05 AM
You two (I mean your two "characters") are just adorable.
Posted by: doahleigh | July 03, 2011 at 04:22 PM
s.a-I believe the point of her writing this was to, in as nice a way possible, explain the difference between her life with her husband and her new life with Joel. Looking back she sees things were not good then with her ex. Why is is wrong for her to describe that in HER story??
Posted by: Jessica | July 03, 2011 at 04:55 PM
I am sorry Joel is feeling sick. Do they laser the stones to break them up? Must be really really painful. The rest of the story is lovely. I hope you are able to maintain the love and respect, easily, for the rest of your lives.
Posted by: lolismum | July 04, 2011 at 12:13 PM
Sorry he had to be in so much pain, but what a lovely story. I feel that way with my husband, our relationship is so easy, being together is so...right. LIFE isn't always easy, but loving him, and him loving me, is. This was NOT the case with my ex husband and often I look back and can't believe I thought that was NORMAL and what a relationship was supposed to be. I think though, I wouldn't appreciate my relationship now nearly as much had it not been for my first shitty marraige.
Posted by: jamie | July 04, 2011 at 01:50 PM
beautiful. so happy for you both.
and sooo sorry he had to experience a kidney stone, i had one 2 months ago and it brought me down like nothing ever had. get well.
Posted by: laura | July 04, 2011 at 02:14 PM
It's amazing when it's easy, huh? And thank god (should I capitalize that?) for western medicine.
Posted by: Katie N | July 04, 2011 at 07:37 PM
After 2 babies and 7 kidney stones, the pain prize goes to the kidneys stones!! Did you make a change to your Facebook? I used to be able to read the wall (not comment), but only the info is available. I miss it :(
Posted by: lcg | July 06, 2011 at 05:28 AM