I am truly grateful that I am able to recognize and enjoy moments of peace when they present themselves, as unfortunately but probably inevitably those times are merely moments--and don't last.
My reality moment arrived Monday morning, at 4:25a.m. with a telephone call from the care facility. Marsha was informing me that she had ordered the paramedics who had just left with my husband, to take him to the emergency room of the nearby hospital. She reported that Bob had been asleep when she checked and then twenty minutes later as she was making her rounds, she found him walking in the hallway with blood on his hand and on his shirt. Assuming he had fallen out of bed and had hit his head on his nightstand, she followed procedure and asked me to phone the hospital for further instructions.
The hospital sedated him so they could perform a CT scan of his head, then the doctor placed ten stitches in Bob's ear and dressed him for a Vincent Van Gogh look-alike contest. He could not tell the admitting personnel his name, but he said, "Hi dear," when he saw me.The doctor reported his mood and demeanor softened upon my arrival, making the anesthetizing injections and the stitch placement easier for everyone, but he still cried, "Get me out of here," several times and climbed off the gurney. My poor dear isn't aware of any moments of peace. The only wish he has I cannot fulfill--to spend every waking and sleeping moment next to me.