
We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. ~Kenji Miyazawa
In the spring of 2000, I received a phone call informing me that the qxh (quasi-ex-husband) had collapsed at work and been taken to a nearby hospital. By the time I got there, he was being released. They had decided that he was having an asthma attack, so despite the fact that he couldn’t walk, they gave him a nebulizer treatment, saw it didn’t help and sent him home. I helped him out of the wheelchair, into the car and he pretty much held onto me and the wall on the way to our apartment. Within 10 minutes, he came out of the bathroom, collapsed on the floor and said, “call an ambulance.”
Which is where a good wife immediately dashes to the phone and screams, “help – my husband’s dying!” to the dispatcher. But I hesitated for a split second. There was part of me that wanted to say, “stop being a baby. I’ll help you back into the car and we’ll take you back to the hospital.”

A Tweet to the first person to guess correctly how old I was when I wrote this!

