imagining the worst.

I figured we would leave with a prescription. The thought occurred to me that he might need some IV fluids administered in the office. But before we left for the appointment I didn't think to pack an overnight bag.

A speedy blood test confirmed that Matthew's potassium was critically low so that his heart was in a great amount of danger. I realized that I have no idea about a million things I should probably learn.

Matthew was ready to take his bike to work that morning like any other day. Instead he was taken to the hospital in an ambulance.
We spoke jovially about the role reversal we were experiencing. He has always been the one in the chair by the bed. I never realized how difficult that role is. I am thankful for this hospital stay for so many reasons, foremost that it saved his life. And also because it was a log on the fire of our deep love.
He ordered and ate his dinner. Became ill again. That was so hard to see in this new light, but I'm glad he wasn't alone.

Matt wants to share his story but he's not much for writing it all out in blog format like I do mine. He asked that I keep updating here, but I know I couldn't convey what it feels like to be him right now. Only he can do that. He is very open to talking about his experience and journey. You'll have to find away to contact him for that. Like maybe via matttheriley@gmail.com.

So as you read here about his experience, expect to be reading about male bulimia from the perspective of a wife. Wouldn't it be wonderful if it was more common for men to have such forums about personal topics? Women's issues are so highly broadcasted while our men may be sitting alone, like my dear husband was, wishing they could call out and being too afraid. 

Here's my brief hospital story.

the warm rain hits me. warm compared to the cold room i came from. the caretakers all say "it's hot in here, isn't it?" and i'm trying to keep my teeth from chattering. so matthew is asleep and i need some dinner. the cafeteria has long since closed. i venture away from the hospital in the dark. i try a few close restaurants but they're all darkened. at last, a pub. "how many in your party?" ouch. as i eat i think about what could have happened had he not come to me. had he ridden his bike to work with such an unstable heart. this would have been my life. table for one. and i prayed and prayed and prayed. then i needed my check very badly. i paid and sprinted back to him, imagining the worst. what if his room was empty when i got back.

When we came home and I read through the comments here I was touched by the love and support and so was Matt. But there is one comment that hit me the hardest. One anonymous comment that haunts me to my bones. "I was afraid he had cancer. It robbed my strapping husband of his strong muscles and, last week, of his life. I hope that your man can get through this. There is absolutely nothing romantic or cool about being a widow." Oh, my soul. Whoever you are I love you and I am so sorry. I love you, I love you.