Seriously!

I’ve always known, or at least felt, like my calling in life was to be in the medical field.

I have never had so much personal/career fulfillment as I did when I was working at a job

that resulted in people being able to do their dialysis in the comfort of their own homes.

Sadly, after 10 years, ownership of the company changed and so did the focus of the

business.  I mourned the loss of the life I had. I loved that job and the people I worked with. It defined me. My heart was heavy for a long time and I did go through the 5 stages of grief.

An odd thing about me is that although I am a very emotional person I am able to hold myself together, on the outside anyway, in times of great stress and chaos. Almost as if the more difficult the situation, the stronger I become.  For this reason as well, I thought I was well suited for disaster relief work.  Add in my ability to empathize with people and I often ask myself, “Why is it exactly I’m working for a candle and home fragrance importer?”

Circumstances at times take precedence over ambition. I don’t know why, but even now as I write the word ambition, it seems like a bad word, a selfish word.

Would I love to go back to school full time? Yes. Is that a possibility right now? No as I am currently the sole provider. Unless Adam gets a kick ass job, we win the lottery or I find some crazy rich benefactor who is willing to pay my rent, utilities, groceries and tuition without expecting sexual favors and/or companionship in return, I am, as they say, S.O.L. Have I made excuses in the past when I could have taken night courses? Yes. Do I regret it? Yes, very much so. Do I feel like the last 10 years have flown by? Yes.  Last night I was talking to Adam and I told him that I feeling like I’m devolving. Like I’m becoming less and less of the person I know I can and should be because I’m just so tired all the time.  Mid-life crisis? Perhaps, but I honestly feel more like it is the 15-20 hours a week I am spending commuting to work on public transit that is sucking my soul and energy out of me. But I digress…….

As strong as I get, seeing loved ones in pain or sick is, I fear, my kryptonite. That along with my worry gene and I am rendered useless.  To be clear, I am an incredibly lucky person. I am 43 years old and my parents and other people I love and consider family are all healthy. I’ve never had to deal with debilitating disease or sickness.

My Adam has Epilepsy. He takes medication daily. In all our time together, he has had 3 seizures. Thankfully, each less severe than the last. Unfortunately, I was not present for the last one that occurred on Wednesday. This poor man will now have to put up with a wife who panics every time I hear a loud noise.  When I hear any loud bangs, I picture him seizing and going through a coffee table like Peter Griffin. Thankfully, nothing bad happened and he is fine.

Adam told me about his Epilepsy right when we started dating. Me being me, I did research so that I’d be prepared if he were to seize.  One of the pamphlets I got was hilarious and we still joke about it today.  In it, it said, “Epilepsy doesn’t effect the ability to love or be loved.”  Does any disease or ailment? Seriously.

We had been living together for awhile when one morning Adam came downstairs after sleeping late. He looked really really tired. He had heavy eyes. He said he was tired. He sat down on the couch & I got up to go to the kitchen when I heard an odd noise. I turned around and there he was, seizing on the couch.  I did everything I was supposed to. I moved anything that he could hurt himself on away. I went behind the couch and protected his head from hitting anything.  He had told me in discussions earlier to not call an ambulance, to let him have the seizure. I was doing ok. Then, his lips turned blue and he was struggling and gasping for breath. His arms were moving like he was underwater trying to surface to breathe.  Nothing I’d read said anything anywhere about lips turning blue! This was where I freaked out, started to cry & called 911 scared that my boyfriend was dying.

As I was talking to the 911 operator, his seizure ended. He looked right at me and right through me, then said, “Get someone”. The guilt I felt for not calling the ambulance sooner was more than I could bear. Thank goodness for where we were living, the ambulance was there before I got off the phone.

This was when the oddest experience I’ve ever had in my life occurred. Adam’s memory was wonky. They asked him a few questions and his answers floored me.

Do you know where you are?

No.

What’s the date?

May, 1975.

Are you with anyone?

Ya, I’m with the kid.

In the ambulance on the way to the hospital he looked at me no different to the way he looked at the attendant. He had no idea who I was. It took him almost an hour to come around. Scary.  Then he slept like a bear in hibernation for 2 days.

If it was a stranger having that seizure, I would have been the person in control. I would have remained calm, I would have known what to do and what to expect. I would’ve been able to write a detailed report afterwards.

Is it love that alters my coping mechanism during a crisis?  Who knows?  What I do know is that I am madly in love with my husband and it kills me to see him in pain or sick AND I should be doing something with my days that is helping people versus importing goods from China to make their homes smell like lavender or vanilla!