My morning started with the not-awake-but-cognizant recognition of my husband’s creaky steps running a circuit between the bedroom and bathroom and back again; his “Are you awake?” hit my ears shortly after 5:00am, and even though I wasn’t awake yet — not quite, anyway — that fact was irrelevant, because “I think I should go to the hospital” is – from years of practice – an action I can accommodate in my sleep.
He was cleared of all the major indices. I can tell you what it’s NOT.
It’s NOT a myocardial infarction, it’s NOT a collapsed lung, it’s NOT COVID.
It’s not “we need to admit him.”
But it’s also not “we know what happened” or “here is some medication.”
It’s “call your cardiologist on Monday” and, more than anything, it’s a little bit scary and a whole lot exhausting — mostly for him.
So he’s sleeping off the stress and I’m burying myself in a book and we’ll just Deal With ItTM in the same way we deal with everything else.
Meanwhile, it has occurred to me that it’s Saturday. Which means that tonight it’s Saturday Night Fever.
And while this is often a more fun, fleshy, funny, or foto-graphic space…
I’m just not there right now.
But when I set this weekly posting project up for myself, I wanted it to be a way of maintaining a posting schedule, if for no other reason that just to check in.
So this is me, checking in.
I assume you’ll understand, though, if – after this – I choose to check out for a little while.
I’ll see you when I see you.
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