It wasn't the shortest engagement on record, but 28 days if it was a month. I never said much because the reasons were so multiple, perhaps because of the schizophrenia he was beset with and the things connected therewith, or my ESP kicked in again. In any event, I ended it.
I had seen the man in the bar several times before, always too drunk to be spoken to. Two years later, he reappeared seeming all clean and sober and for some reason, maybe because I don't drink, velcro-izing onto me. At a point when I was ready to go home, he said "I'll walk you to your car." There he asked me if I'd consider going out with him. Hadn't expected that. Something in me said "If you say no, he is going to end up dead." How true that turned out to be. I said o.k, sure. He lived.
He lived because sometimes I can be a total _____. Not that I like it, but there are certain things I just can't let be. He was having some kind of problem, constantly falling asleep, complaining of stomach pain. On one of such days, I found his two sons, one 11 , the other approaching 4 years of age, clinging to each other trembling down in the computer room. I asked them what was wrong. They said "We think Daddy's on drugs again and we're afraid. He's going to die and we don't know what to do." I promised them it had me worried too, but for sure it wasn't drugs, it was something else and I'd make sure it was taken care of. I promised them.
I forced hin to go to the doctor. I hate it when people make me nag and get tough, I think they should be more mature and self-responsible than that. Just like I think they should get their own butts out of bed when it's time for them to go to work. Sense to go to the doctor and not give some gobblydygook excuse about the VA is going to whatever in six months. I finally got him to go to my doctor, whose husband is a cardiologist. She felt the stomach thing was something else, so right quick scheduled the jackass for another test next day.
A long test after a long drive, to be followed by a long night. The tests showed blockages in 3 coronary arteries. Emergency procedure was scheduled with first available for the next morning. The closest place was St. Michael's, in Newark, about 30 miles north, 5 AM the next morning. Though it was past winter, there was frost on my car. We did the trip. At the hospital, I had a long wait. It was only supposed to take a couple of hours, a 5 hour stay at max. There were complications.
It seems he was about to pop a couple of aneurisms the arteries to his heart. Stents had to be put in, there was a stability question. They didn't want to cause a rupture. They'd keep me informed. I called his parents. And waited some more. The nurses got me some food, I needed it right then. Around 7PM, they came and said he was asking for me. He was awake, a little out of it, but not bad. The doctors said it was too risky to let him go home. Go get some rest, come back tomorrow morning around 10 AM. I wasn't arguing. I was in awful pain from my spinal injuries. I can only be up for a while, then I need to lie down or I'll fall down. No fun. But I did what had to be done.
I never from the start thought about marrying him, he came up with that. But I'd answered that call that I'd heard when he asked me out. His family was thrilled, the kids were happy. They loved me and showed it. He couldn't stand that. He'd been the center of their attention for some time, since he'd gotten his psych-dis from the Marines and his ex-wife had died shortly after the birth of their second kid and end of marriage.
That's the reason it began. Why it ended, that will be another day's writing. But for now, I just was not going to live like that. Better for me in the long run to just walk.
til another day,
Pegi
