As predicted, my aunt had the most elegant bedding on her guest bed.
It was silky and clean, and it smelled like heaven on Earth. But my poor husband was trying to manage a very unfamiliar situation. He was trying to keep from getting blood on the bedding with a huge wad of toilet paper and some folded up facial tissue. So I had this strong double-anxiety throbbing in my heart. I wanted to make sure that Lou was OK, but I was equally concerned about the potentially awful stain he might leave on these truly decadent sheets.
Looking back on this horrible night with more perspective, I keep having this reality check that I was so emotionally scrambled at that time that I was incapable of any kind of logical thinking. I was consumed with fears about how much it would cost to go to the ER without insurance; and, I was riddled with worry about having enough money to replace my aunt’s fancy sheets if things got worse for Lou in the middle of the night. My priorities were totally screwed up!
But these powerful feelings of scarcity and fear were all-consuming for me, and for the first time in my life, I truly wasn’t sure we’d make it through all of this.
There was simply no margin for one of us to get sick…
Or…
To soil expensive guest sheets.
I can remember lying awake that night, listening to Lou’s shallow breathing. He was sleeping, but I could detect his anxiety was keeping him from finding any kind of real relief or escape. And even though I did finally sort it out in my brain that what I should be worrying about was LOU — not the beautiful sheets — there was still too much inner conflict going on to figure out how to worry properly. The two things that gave me the most stability and comfort in my tricky new world — my husband, and a clean place to sleep — were both in jeopardy that night.
Every time Lou moved or shifted, I sat up to check on him. (And, if I’m being honest, I also lifted the comforter up so I could check the sheets.) Both Lou and the sheets seemed to be holding steady; but at that time, there was nothing that felt steady or safe anymore. I didn’t have a consistent dwelling to call home; so for me, Lou was my home. He was the only constant in my life, and I couldn’t let my mind go to the place where this bleeding thing was more than a “leaky blood vessel” from riding his bike too much. I had to stop my brain from thinking about Lou’s health.
So. My aunt’s glorious sheets were all I could really focus on.
For me, a restless night’s sleep is almost more exhausting than an all-nighter. But when the purple light of dawn was glowing around the edges of the window shades, I knew we had to face the day; we had to find out what was happening to Lou.
I vividly remember praying over Lou while he slept that morning. I asked God to help us. That was all I could pray. I was so scared that actual words were missing from my prayers. All I could pray was, “Jesus. Help.”
I remember wishing this was happening to me instead of Lou; I needed my husband to stay healthy and up if we were going to make it! He was the one who made people want to join a wrinkle cream MLM — not me!
