Saturday, November 20, 2010

Sun Shines Bright Through My Morning Window

You keep the bed warm and I'll make some soup
I'll rake the leaves while you hold the bag
He'll bring out the ideas when She makes it rain

We're all in this together

Sunday, November 14, 2010

The Kidney Stone

She cried out to me, and I jerked up out of bed. I looked around, but could not see Nicole anywhere. Perhaps it was because my eyes were only half opened having just been awoken. There was already sweat dripping from my pajamas as I tend to sweat profusely at night, yet I would bet dimes to dollars that there was even more since I came to.
Another cry. This cry was sharper than the last one. I had images of Nicole being stabbed in the stomach, as there the second cry really came in two parts.

The Moan: a slow, vibration coming from deep within the esophagus, without rhyme or rhythm.
I could have mistaken it for a man.
The Stab: Cutting like a knife, the moment of impact, Nicole screams a sharp painful yelp. I was positive I could hear the blood flowing from her wound onto our 1950s hardwood floor. My wife is dying.

I run out of the bedroom, losing control of my feet and hitting the wall of our narrow hallway. I see Nicole almost right below my feet. On the foor, curled up like a child, crying. I give my head a quick shake, and bend over her. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she winces. I remove my hand, and wonder what is wrong with this woman. As if listening to my thoughts, Nicole looks up at me. There are tears in her eyes, her face is apple red.
"I don't know what is wrong. I don't know why I feel the way I do. All I know is that I am in PAIN!" She lowers her head back to the floor, and I am completely lost in what response I should give.
"This is no good", is all I can really muster.
Another stabbing pain. Another scream. More tears.
"Okay, okay...can I help you get up? You should get on the bed, the floor is no good." I say, taking charge of this situation. Nicole moves to get up, and I take her by the arm as gently as I can. She stands, and is making her way to the bed. Nicole collapses like a ton of bricks. Without a doubt this causes her more pain. The sounds of a moan and then a stab come out of her like the sound of bagpipes before they go into full song. It is a powerful experience.

"You need to call my mother", Nicole mumbles through a pillow. "She can get me to a hospital. Something is wrong and the pain is not going away." I race to the telephone, start dialing and wait for someone on the other end to pick up.
Her mother answers, and I explain the situation to her fully. I feel somewhat calm because I know there is nothing I can really do for Nicole except for the basic necessities like comfort and positive reinforcement. Calling her mother was the right thing to do. She would be at our house to pick up Nicole in ten minutes.
Everything happened so quickly that I almost forgot that I was fighting a horrible hangover. Once I got off the phone with my mother in law, I jetted for the bathroom. I doubled over the toilet and started throwing up. The cheap wine from last night showed its face. Terrible, terrible. How difficult it can be balancing the life of a husband, a father, and a drinker at the same time on a very flimsy, unsturdy barbed wire. I felt much better once I left the bathroom and went back to Nicole, who was still on the bed. She was in so much pain that she didn't hear me in the washroom.
I decided to lay down on the bed next to her until her mother came.