My dear, wonderful cousins, as I am taken off in the ambulance as a precaution. I knew someone had to have taken pictures, given the number of people at the party. I feel awful that they had such a scare, but at least it was just a scare. Happy Birthday, anyway, Ed. My apologies for belaboring the experience, but it really has been only three weeks now. And I am still amazed when I suddenly realize how beautiful breathing is.
I remember later part of what I heard in dribs as I came around. My dear D giving information to the EMTs, calm and clear and taking care of me. He was the one who unstuck the O2 mask from my lip. He gave my medical information. He sounded so normal, I forgot him. It was so expected, my memory glided over his quiet steadfast presence.
He feels guilty and weird for being so disengaged, and feeling so little at the time. I'm still trying to convince him this is the ideal reaction to a crisis, no panic. He has no more medical training than Army CPR from 15 years ago, but he did everything right.
2 comments:
have thought of you both often in the last day or two, since we just went through somethign similar. I know how it feels, and I also know why you are (and need to be) reliving details of this experience.
I'm so glad you both are okay. I don't blame you in the least for going over the experience again. It seems to me it would be both unreal and ultrareal, shocking, and therefore necessary to relive again and again. Not to mention the whole aspect of trying to make any sense of it, or lend it any meaning. But. You know your own experiences. I listen. And I'm glad, so glad you are here.
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