I worked on this post a few weeks ago. I did not get a chance to post it. Some of the things I write about are painful. Not only to me but to the ones I love. I have been asked, “How do I what I do?” I do it because I Love him.
As I sit in bed and I work on finishing “Steve’s story…” I hear the sound that for me is one of the scariest sounds in the world…
Earlier in the evening, Steve had come into my room, I could tell something was wrong with him. He was getting me water, and any little thing that I would or would not need. I asked him again, this time giving him my “I know you’re not telling me the truth, so spill it…” or I like to say “THE LOOK”. Finally, he told me that he was not feeling well. His stomach was bothering him, and he did not want to throw up. I knew that he was not feeling well at dinner, but I let it slide a bit to give him some room. One thing I have learned with Steve and his disability is that he needs just a little time to figure things out on his own. It was now a few hours later, and he was still not feeling good. I asked if he was starting a cycle, and he nodded. We talked about what that means, and what to do. I knew he would throw up, and then feel better, but the next few days would be long for him. We talked about food plans for tomorrow, what he was allowed to eat, and what he could not. We have this pretty much down to a science and knew exactly what to do.
It’s about 120 a.m. I was working on my blog, reliving some scary and heartbreaking times in our life last year when Steve was sick. That’s when I heard him coughing, then I heard the noise, the sound that is made when you pour water from a bucket into a toilet. Well, that is the sound that is made when steve is projectile vomiting, and not breathing. What could I do? How could I help? Vomit does not bother me anymore. I would normally make sure that he does not pass out, or hurt himself by falling. I would normally help him get cleaned up, rub his back, help him get his toothbrush, and mouthwash… When this happens to him his tricks are super, super bad.
This time, all I could get myself together, that takes a few minutes, get out of bed, and get my crutches, and carefully hop to the bathroom. I can not rush, I can not move quick, I can not even really do what I used to be able to do.
I know that one day I will be healed and I will be able to do what I do best. It’s just the waiting…
