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Impotence, Rage and Terror
Current mood:  scaredI only spent half an hour with him before I left. In the back of my mind, I thought, “What if something happens while you’re gone?” I banished the thought, packed the night before and slept in for that one extra hour of sleep. After all, he was doing better. Only after I got my extra bit of rest did I get up and go over to my parents’ house – and only then because my mother was going to drive me to the airport. So I spent a miserly half hour with him until it was time to go. Not grudgingly, of course, but willingly, my mind tinged with regret over how we got in this situation in the first place. When I gave him a hug goodbye, I could feel every bone under his shirt. “He’s been doing better, I reminded myself,” and walked out the door. I thought again about how I would feel if that were the last time I saw him alive – and knew that I’d cheated us both. We’d missed each other most of the week before. He was sleeping when I came by, or I stayed to work late or run one more errand. The night he asked if I was coming over, I missed his call because I was out with friends. I came over the next day, but it’s not the same and it was only for a quick visit. Now, here I am. Over a thousand miles away in Ohio. My mom called me in a panic an hour ago and told me that he collapsed. She found him on the floor and somehow got him to the ER. I wonder if she carried him herself (he weighs just100 lbs. – but he was doing better, I think to myself as I type this.) or did she call an ambulance? Whenever I see an ambulance drive through the neighborhood, I have always had a secret dread it was going to my parents’ house. I’ve even been known to follow one on occasion, if I was already going the same way. Just to make sure – just to make sure. He’s in the emergency room. Potassium levels through the roof. He is not responding. His body can’t do this anymore. The doctors say we family members need to get there immediately. I’m in Ohio. Pacing around my hotel room, heart beating on my rib cage like a trapped bird, feeling like I need to throw up. I can’t do anything. Not one thing. The earliest flight is three hours from now. No one’s awake yet. I’m trapped. Just because my body’s not able to do anything, doesn’t mean my mind is held captive, too. It’s in overdrive, trying to make plans. No one’s awake for me to talk to. I’m here for school. I have a test in two hours. This school is so expensive. I was supposed to have dinner with people on Wednesday. I was having fun. My flight home’s sorted. I’m lucky to have gotten a seat on the next plane out of here. My taxi’s lined up and I’ll be home in six hours. Please, God, let me have someone to come home to. |
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
