In the middle of the night Ed, who has been scrunched somewhere under a quilt on the couch downstairs comes up and tells me -- I guess I better go to the doctor. Within five minutes, I'm driving him to the Emergency Room of our local hospital.
The thing is, I have been with Ed for nearly 19 years and he has never had to go to the doctor. Fine, he did go to an eye doctor for cataract removal, and he did have to get a primary physician because the eye surgeon mandated that he list one, but he can't remember her name. Check ups? Nope, never. I have two thoughts now: it must be serious for him to ask to go get medical help, and secondly -- what on earth will they unlock in that cavernous body of his once they start lookin' around? I mean, he's not been checked for anything. He could be a heap of deteriorating flesh and I wouldn't know it. Indeed he wouldn't know it either, until pain struck. And yesterday, pain struck.
My third thought is: this is not going to be a normal day.
There's a big fat beautifully round moon out when we drive the empty roads to town. Oh, it's the harvest full moon, and it's a supermoon tonight! There was a partial lunar eclipse as well, just a couple of hours earlier. Did the werewolves come out and howl? I consider pulling off the road and taking a picture, but that seems totally unsympathetic to the guy next to me who is, after all, in pain.
We have three hospitals in Madison and they are all very good. Which one? -- I ask Ed, knowing fully well that he has no idea. I explain -- door no. 1 is the closest. You go there if every second counts. Door number 2 is the fastest turnaround. (It's where I go 95% of the time.) Easy to get to and unless you're really ill, you're out within a few hours. Door number 3 is where you go if you think you have an incurable disease and you want the docs to come up with one last remote strategy to keep you alive. (It's our research hospital.)
He picks door no. 2 and I am relieved. It means he's not especially worried. But then, does that guy ever worry, about anything?
By sunrise we know the verdict: kidney stones. More than one actually. We drive home as the sun rises to the east and the now faint moon moves closer to the horizon to the west.
I have several satisfying thoughts now: first of all -- yay. The man's not hugely sick and certainly not near death's door. Secondly -- I taught him how to use the health care system and he is turning out to be quite the fan! He makes the requisite appointments going forward, pops a pill for pain (wow, these things work! -- he tells me, as if surprised), marvels at how smooth the whole process was for him (and gripes endlessly about how insufferable it is to fill out paperwork for meds, given our complicated insurance system). And thirdly -- I could not help but throw in a big I told you so. I have been telling him for years that he doesn't drink enough during the day. The doc's words? Drink more and cut back on protein such as nuts, beans, eggs.... Ha! You have just described Ed's preferred diet!
As I come back from the morning animal walk and get my solo breakfast ready once again...
...I do mumble something about it being one big mess of medical issues and chores for me and wouldn't it be nice if we did something special together.
Gorgeous, we do stuff together all the time!
No, I mean something special...
But it's the small stuff that's important. You know how I am most grateful for the everyday things we have going. Like indoor plumbing. You know I always express gratitude for indoor plumbing...
Yes, I know, but I dont want to be just like the toilet for you!
Why do you need all these extras?
I dont need extras. Maybe just a little something out of our routine. With you.
But honestly, I can't think of what that would be. Our routines define my days and make them shine. They're brilliant in their ordinariness. I wouldn't trade them for the world.
I think about all this as I water the pots and tubs and a few of the younger plants. It is soooo dry out there! We may finally get a few showers next week. No one will be upset with cloudy wet skies. Least of all me.
I pick up the kids.
We eat ice cream, because it is, yet again, a very warm and sunny day.
(many spirited games of tic tac toe)
(then on to the farmhouse)
Toward evening, I take them to the meetup point. Sandpiper's school. It's always good to see him for a few minutes at the end of the day.
(both bros trying to get her off the bike rack)
And now I am home. Ed is popping Motrin and riding his bike again, I'm cooking chili. With beans, but hey, no one's giving up entirely on protein. And the sun sets and I am plenty tired, so goodnight! Until a more calm and normal tomorrow!
