It’s in the early afternoon and I am sitting at home writing a blog. The only thing that makes this noteworthy is that I was just discharged yesterday from a week’s stay at the hospital. Joe came home to find me on the edge of the bed trying to put my pants on, but I couldn’t do this simple task. I had already left home. I didn’t recognize him or the ambulance guys or the hospital team. I was horribly confused and kept pulling the IV lines out of my arms and I lay covered in blood.
I knew that I wouldn’t be alone, that Joe would be with me, so I began to call for him. In my mind, he was just out of sight and I needed to coach him back. For hours I called out ‘Joe, Joe, Joe, Joe’ and then I’d do it again. It alarmed me that they didn’t know who Joe was and I begged them to listen to me. I WAS NOT ALONE. There was someone who loved me.
About 4 hours in someone stuck their head in my room and said, “He’s not here, we are under lockdown. You are laying in a hospital room by yourself.” This news settled me. Joe would be there he just couldn’t be there right now.
It took a couple of days but my knowledge of where I am in time and where I was presently located came back. The days became blurs as they sped by with the speed of inertia, nothing would happen, and then when something did, it really did.
I didn’t see Joe, physically, until I was dropped off by transit back at home. The funny thing about being dazed and confused, you begin to feel a loss of trust in your senses. But, I need not have worried. There are not many things I am sure of in this world, but I am sure of this. I love Joe. He loves me right back.
