Another day, another trip to the emergency room. I'd managed to drag myself out of bed this morning after getting two hours of sleep, and I figured that Susan would be OK at home. Wrong. At about 11am, while I was in the midst of a meeting, I got a call from Susan telling me that she was feeling worse. I left the office in record time, and got home in time to present Susan with two options: either she was going to let me take her to the emergency room, or I was going to call an ambulance. Smart woman that she is, she decided to let me drive.
The problem at the moment is that we are no closer to knowing what is wrong with her. After all the blood test and two (yes, TWO) spinal taps (not something I would heartily endorse), the doctors still cannot tell us what is happening to Susan. Yes, it's rather frightening to realize that people who make careers out of playing God cannot zero in on the reason my wife is in the hospital.
At the moment, I'm home. Someone needs to look after Eric, and a friend is sitting with Susan in the hospital. In the morning, I'll go back and hope for the best.
What I hate most is the powerlessness I feel seeing Susan in so much pain, and yet being absolutely powerless to fix anything. In my 43 years, I have never spent a night in a hospital, so to say that I'm out of my comfort zone here would be something of an understatement. I'm scared, because no one can tell me anything. No matter how much I want to scream, no one can or will tell me anything at all.
I'm exhausted, and I know a good deal of my foul mood stems from the events of the past couple days. I want my wife back, and I can't do anything to make that happen. Perhaps a good night's sleep will make things look better....
