Not If - When

I’ve never really thought about what to wear to receive bad news, but it turns out all black is appropriate. The same day of the bad news, I was also jokingly called the grim reaper at work (courtesy of being HR).

Oh blessed irony…

On Wednesday, my husband and I received the news that he could suffer a stroke, heart attack, or sudden death, at any time. It’s not if, it’s when. He is at very high risk because of the severe untreated sleep apnea he’s had that we didn’t know about until two days ago. He’s not a snorer so we’d never noticed that he wasn’t breathing 46 times an hour.

46 times an hour his brain tells his body to stop taking a breath.

It’s mind boggling.

The havoc that it has caused on his body is insane to me. His kidneys are damaged. He has arrhythmia now and PVCs - his heart skips every 6th beat. All because of his sleep breathing or lack thereof.

I find myself waking up all throughout the night now, in a panic. I’ve always been great at catastrophic thinking - I think about all the scary things that could happen and how I’ll deal with them. It’s like my brain thinks it can prepare me for the worst if I walk through it in my mind.

For all my catastrophic scenarios, I was not prepared for the doctor’s news. Which ended in an “I’m sorry,” and a “go out and live your life.”

Not if - when.

That’s all that keeps repeating in my brain.

Nothing prepares you for the news of inevitability.

It’s a mind fuck really.

Instead of spiraling, I go into research mode. Dr. Google. Mayo Clinic and Johns Hopkins and Harvard Medicine- everything I can find on his condition based on what we know right now. How can I fix it? I must be able to fix it. I can find the answer.

Not if - when.

I can’t though. I can’t control his brain. I can’t breathe for him. I wish I could.

I wish I could tell his brain to knock it off, to let him breathe, let the oxygen in.

I wish I could tell his brain that it can’t have him, not yet. We’ve only had 16 years and that’s not enough.

I wish I could tell his brain that he has too much to do still. Documentaries to make and traveling the world to do.

I wish I could tell his big beautiful brain to let me keep him please, a while longer.

Love doesn’t know what inevitable means.

It’s a waiting game now. And a race against the time that he always told me didn’t exist. He’s the only man I know who can quote Einstein on a first date. His big beautiful traitorous brain. The thing I love as much as his tired heart.

As I write this, he’s sitting next to me on the couch playing Zelda (Minnish Cap). Getting frustrated with the controls, wandering the map, solving puzzles, and living life. I asked him if I could write about this and he said yes, because he knows it’s how I process things. Because he knows me.

Not if - when.

It seems he always has.

Here’s hoping for something good soon. Here’s hoping that whatever treatment he receives will give us the time that seems impossible.

9/11/2010

(Thank you to everyone who’s reached out and sent good wishes and empathy our way from the Note I posted a few days ago.)

Thank you to all of you for being here and for being a soft place for my heart to land in this crazy word filled place.