It’s been a rollercoaster of six weeks. Normal service is resuming. He’s going back to work tomorrow. Slowly, he’s easing himself back into normal routine.
6 weeks ago, they told me he “we think is having a heart attack”. Then, much to our relief, it wasn’t that. But it still was over a week in hospital, scans, tests, needles, medications, more scans, doctors appointments, a return to A&E, and then flu.
We are both relieved it’s all ok. It has all worked out ok. I had a few moments where I didn’t know if it would be ok. Standing in A&E wondering what I would say to his mother if I had to call her. Calling family and friends in panic. Wondering what I would tell my kids.
He’s ok. He will be ok. Slowly but surely, the out of the blue infection that hit his heart and caused it to be so stressed it made him feel dramatically unwell and sent us to get help, has gone. He is feeling better. Physically he is getting there. Mentally, tomorrow will be good for him. His colleagues are kind and will look after him.
I have been in control this past 6 weeks. Doing all the running around. Looking after him. For me, anxiety means I need to be in control. I would quite happily have him home where I can watch to make sure he isn’t over doing things, that he isn’t too tired, that he doesn’t need to stop and rest. But I can’t. He has to go back to normal, and I have to trust that this rather bumpy bit of our rollercoaster is slowing down, and that normal life will resume and that he will be ok.
I am grateful to family, to friends, for medical care. For the fact that he is still here. But for the roll of a dice, it could have been different. I am reminded of how much he means to us.
Back to normal tomorrow. I think we are ready. We are ok, I guess we have to be.
