That string thing is not a metaphor, FYI. Jump into my nightmare, the water is warm.
The husband has been having some health problems, which sent him to the hospital about a month (maybe two) ago. We were afraid he was having the dreaded fat guy in his 40s heart attack but in fact they said no, not a heart attack. Unfortunately, they didn't have any idea what it was. Just what it wasn't.
So this past week, on Friday, he went in for a heart cath to take a look at what was going on inside. I got the boys off to school then he and Julia and I went over to Gwinnett Medical for the big test.
Luckily, they had coloring books in the cardiac waiting area.
Because they were on hospital time and not human time, and because emergencies came in and they had to go before us, Julia and I had to leave and go get lunch.
And this is where your heart starts to worry, if you're me. I hated leaving. I wanted to stay there because I felt in control there, even though I wasn't - of course. I took the girl to Taco Bell and there was food and it occurred to me that she and I have never once been out to lunch together.
It also occurred to me that this is what it felt like, to be solitary.
I'm not a solitary creature. As I picked up the boys, one by one, from the bus, and we waited, and had snacks, all I could think was "this is what it would be like" and I didn't like it not even a little.
It was finally over early evening. He said it was like a painful horror show.
The result? Nothing. Nothing wrong with his heart, that's the good news. Something is wrong though still.
Here he is in the aftermath.
It still aches and hurts. I think I will freak out if they ever do that to me.