I didn't know how much longer the ride would last.
I had lost any reliable sense of time.
Every minute seemed to stretch.
Then several minutes would pass without my realizing it.
I sat beside Maggie with my hand around hers.
The paramedic remained close to the stretcher.
He checked her breathing.
He watched the equipment.
He spoke to her when he needed a response.
I had become familiar with the rhythm of his work.
At first, every movement had frightened me.
I thought each adjustment meant something had gone wrong.
Now I understood that he was monitoring her carefully.
That didn't mean my fear had disappeared.
It meant I had stopped treating every ordinary check as a disaster.
Maggie opened her eyes.
I leaned toward her.
"Hello, sweetheart."
She looked at me.
I smiled.
I didn't ask her to speak.
She held my gaze briefly.
Then her eyes closed.
I stayed beside her.
The paramedic adjusted something near the stretcher.
I moved back to give him room.
He checked her again.
I watched his hands.
They moved carefully.
Nothing about his manner suggested that he was ignoring how seriously ill she was.
He seemed focused.
That mattered to me.
I didn't need him to pretend nothing was wrong.
I needed him to pay attention.
And he was doing that.
I looked at Maggie.
Her breathing continued beneath the mask.
I could see the familiar shape of her forehead.
I could see the hair resting near her cheek.
I wanted to smooth it away from her face.
I hesitated because I didn't want to disturb anything.
Then I gently moved a small strand away.
Her eyes stayed closed.
It was such a simple movement.
One I had made before without thinking.
But inside the ambulance, it felt important.
I wanted Maggie to be comfortable.
I wanted to do something kind for her.
I couldn't do what the paramedic was doing.
I couldn't understand the readings.
I couldn't decide what medical care she needed.
But I could make sure her hair wasn't resting awkwardly against her face.
I could keep holding her hand.
I could speak gently whenever she looked for me.
For the first time during the ride, those small things didn't seem completely useless.
The paramedic glanced toward me.
"You're staying with her."
I nodded.
"Of course."
I looked at Maggie.
"Where else would I be?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
I knew my question hadn't really been meant for him.
It was something I needed to hear myself say.
There had been a moment earlier when I felt so helpless that I wondered whether my presence mattered at all.
The paramedic had the equipment.
He had the training.
He knew what needed to be checked.
I was only sitting there.
But Maggie kept opening her eyes and finding my face.
That had to matter.
I hoped it did.
The ambulance moved over another uneven stretch of road.
I steadied myself.
Maggie's hand shifted slightly in mine.
I leaned closer.
"Are you awake, sweetheart?"
Her eyelids moved.
I regretted asking almost immediately.
I had promised myself I wouldn't keep testing her.
I lowered my voice.
"Never mind."
She opened her eyes.
I smiled.
"There you are."
She looked toward me.
I stayed quiet.
After a few seconds, her eyes closed again.
I sat back.
It was difficult to stop asking questions.
I had spent our marriage talking to Maggie whenever something worried me.
She was the person I turned to.
If I didn't understand something, I told her.
If I was afraid, I told her.
If something happened that I couldn't explain, she was the person I wanted beside me while I tried to make sense of it.
Now the thing frightening me most was happening to her.
And I couldn't ask her to help me understand it.
That left a terrible emptiness.
I looked at the paramedic.
He was still working.
I considered telling him how frightened I felt.
Then I realized he already knew.
He had heard my questions.
He had watched me lean forward every time Maggie moved.
He had seen my hand trembling.
I didn't need to explain my fear to him.
I needed to stay calm enough to let him do his job.
I took a careful breath.
Then I looked toward Maggie again.
The paramedic spoke.
"Sir, make sure you stay seated."
I realized I had leaned too far forward.
"Sorry."
I settled back.
He continued attending to her.
I felt embarrassed for a moment.
Then I let it go.
I wasn't helping Maggie by worrying about every awkward movement I made.
I had enough to think about already.
The ambulance continued.
I listened to the siren.
I watched the paramedic check her condition again.
I noticed the steady way he spoke.
"Maggie, I'm going to check you."
She opened her eyes slightly.
He explained what he was doing.
His voice didn't rise.
He didn't sound impatient.
I wanted to speak that way.
I wanted Maggie to hear calmness from me.
So when I leaned toward her again, I kept my voice low.
"You're being taken care of."
Her eyes moved toward me.
I smiled.
"I'm here too."
She watched me.
Then she rested.
I didn't try to keep her awake.
I looked at our hands.
Her ring was still against my thumb.
I traced the familiar circle over her knuckles.
I wondered whether she recognized the movement.
I hoped she did.
I knew she couldn't tell me.
That uncertainty had become part of everything.
I hoped she heard me.
I hoped she knew where we were.
I hoped she understood that someone was helping her.
I hoped she wasn't frightened.
There were so many things I couldn't know.
But I did know she wasn't alone.
That was one thing I could be certain about.
The paramedic checked her again.
I looked at him.
"Thank you for being patient with me."
He glanced up.
"You're worried about your wife."
I nodded.
"Very."
He returned to his work.
I looked at Maggie.
I had said it aloud.
Very worried.
There was no reason to pretend otherwise.
I was frightened because the woman I loved was seriously ill.
I was frightened because I didn't understand why.
I was frightened because I couldn't make her better.
Those feelings didn't make me less useful.
They simply made it harder to think.
I tried to focus on what mattered.
Answer questions truthfully.
Stay out of the paramedic's way.
Keep my voice gentle.
Remain beside Maggie.
I could manage those things.
I adjusted my position.
I looked at her face.
Her eyes were closed again.
I didn't call her name.
I didn't ask her to open them.
I rubbed my thumb across her hand.
The paramedic continued watching her.
The vehicle continued toward the hospital.
And I stayed beside the woman who had always been the person I turned to when I was afraid.
This time, she couldn't help me carry that fear.
So I carried it quietly while holding her hand.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: I Watched Maggie Breathe Beneath the Oxygen Mask and Understood That Reaching the Hospital Would Be Only the Beginning
I Rode Beside My Wife in the Ambulance, Knowing She Had Been Seriously Ill for Days Without Me Understanding Why
Part 11 of 20
