Waiting in the hospital felt different from waiting in the ambulance.
In the ambulance, everything had been moving.
The road had carried us forward.
The siren had filled the space around us.
The paramedic had stayed close to Maggie.
There had been a destination.
I had believed reaching that destination would make things clearer.
Now we were inside the hospital.
Maggie was still lying beneath the blanket.
The oxygen mask still covered her face.
Her eyes still struggled to remain open.
And I was still waiting for someone to explain why.
I sat beside her whenever there was room.
I stood when the medical staff needed to work.
I tried not to get in anyone's way.
The blood sample had been taken.
The doctors were reviewing her condition.
I knew they were doing what needed to be done.
But that didn't make the waiting comfortable.
I watched Maggie's face.
Her eyes were closed.
I held her hand.
The wedding ring rested beneath my thumb.
I rubbed the same small circle over her knuckles.
It was the one thing that seemed unchanged.
I had been doing it in the ambulance.
I was doing it now.
I imagined I might still be doing it hours later.
I didn't care.
As long as I could hold her hand, I would.
A nurse approached.
She checked Maggie carefully.
I moved aside.
"Has anything changed?"
The nurse answered calmly.
"We're continuing to monitor her."
I nodded.
"All right."
The nurse continued working.
I watched her adjust the equipment.
Maggie's eyelids moved.
I leaned closer.
"Sweetheart?"
She opened her eyes.
I smiled.
"Hello."
She looked at me.
I could see the same exhaustion.
I wanted to ask whether she felt any better.
The question rose automatically.
I stopped myself.
She couldn't answer easily.
And her condition was being watched by people who could assess it properly.
I didn't need to make her work just to reassure me.
I lowered my voice.
"You just rest."
Her eyes closed.
I stayed beside her.
The nurse finished and stepped away.
I settled back into my chair.
My legs felt heavy.
I had been standing and sitting repeatedly.
My back ached.
I noticed these things without much interest.
I couldn't make myself care about being comfortable while Maggie was so ill.
But I knew I needed to remain steady.
The hospital staff might ask me more questions.
Maggie might open her eyes and look for me.
I needed to be able to respond.
I rubbed my face with my free hand.
Then I looked toward the doorway.
I wanted the doctor to return.
I wanted someone to say they had found the problem.
I wanted an explanation with a beginning and an end.
But I knew illnesses didn't always present themselves that way.
I had learned that simply by watching Maggie.
Four days.
Perhaps three.
That was all I could say about how long she had been suffering.
I had once imagined that serious illness would be obvious.
That there would be a moment when everyone understood something was terribly wrong.
But Maggie's condition had become serious while I was still struggling to understand it.
Now I was sitting beside her, waiting for blood results.
I wondered whether those results would tell the doctors exactly what had happened.
I wondered whether they would show something unexpected.
I wondered whether there were things about her condition that nobody had recognized yet.
The questions made my stomach tighten.
I looked at Maggie again.
She had not moved.
Her hand remained in mine.
I reminded myself not to invent explanations.
That was what I had promised myself.
I would tell the doctors what I knew.
I would listen to what they discovered.
I would not pretend to understand things I didn't.
I would not turn guesses into facts just because uncertainty frightened me.
The nurse returned briefly.
She checked Maggie's response.
"Maggie, can you hear me?"
Her eyelids lifted.
The nurse spoke gently.
Maggie looked toward her.
Then her eyes moved in my direction.
I leaned forward.
"I'm here."
She watched me.
I smiled.
The nurse finished checking her.
Maggie's eyes closed again.
I rubbed her hand.
"That's all right, sweetheart."
I looked toward the nurse.
"She keeps looking for me."
The nurse nodded.
"She has been responding when we speak to her."
I looked down.
"She was doing that in the ambulance too."
I swallowed.
"She hasn't had much strength for anything else."
The nurse listened.
I appreciated that she didn't hurry away while I spoke.
I didn't have anything more useful to add.
I simply wanted someone to understand how difficult it was to watch.
The nurse returned to her work.
I looked back at Maggie.
I thought about the years we had shared.
I thought about all the times I had known what she was feeling just by looking at her.
If she was worried, I could usually tell.
If she was tired, I knew.
If something was bothering her, I recognized the change in her voice.
Now I couldn't tell what was happening inside her.
That frightened me more than any unfamiliar medical word.
I looked at her closed eyes.
I wanted her to wake up and tell me what she had been going through.
I wanted her to explain the missing days.
I wanted to understand why she had become so weak.
But I knew I couldn't expect those answers from her now.
The blood tests might offer information.
The doctors might find an explanation.
Until then, the questions had to remain unanswered.
I leaned forward.
"Maggie."
Her eyes opened slightly.
I smiled.
"You know I'm here."
She looked toward me.
I gently squeezed her hand.
"I love you."
She held my gaze for a moment.
Then her eyes closed.
I sat back.
The room continued around us.
Footsteps passed outside.
Equipment made quiet sounds.
People spoke in low voices.
The hospital was full of ordinary activity.
But for me, everything remained centered on the woman lying beside me.
I watched her breathe.
I watched for her eyes to open.
I watched the doorway, hoping the doctor would return.
At one point, I realized I had been staring at the same spot for several minutes.
I looked down at our hands.
Her wedding ring was still there.
I touched it gently.
I thought about how strange it was that something so small could comfort me.
A ring.
A familiar hand.
A movement of her eyelids.
Those were the things I could still recognize.
Everything else seemed uncertain.
I wondered whether the blood results would bring relief.
I wondered whether they would bring more questions.
I tried not to imagine either outcome too strongly.
I had already learned how painful it was to build hope around something I couldn't know.
I had expected the ambulance to arrive and everything to become clear.
It hadn't.
I had expected the hospital staff to tell me quickly what was wrong.
They couldn't yet.
Now I was waiting for test results.
I didn't want to turn those results into another promise I had made to myself.
I wanted the truth.
Whatever the truth was.
That thought frightened me.
I looked at Maggie.
I wasn't sure I was ready to hear something terrible.
But I couldn't help her by refusing to understand what the doctors found.
I had to listen.
I had to ask questions when I didn't understand.
And I had to be honest about what I knew.
The same three or four days were still missing from my understanding.
I couldn't recover them by sitting there blaming myself.
I couldn't ask Maggie to explain them while she was so exhausted.
I could only wait for the information the doctors were gathering.
I moved my chair slightly closer.
I took her hand again.
I rubbed my thumb across her knuckles.
The familiar circle.
The same quiet movement that had carried me through the ambulance ride.
Maggie's eyes opened.
I leaned forward.
"Hello, sweetheart."
She looked at me.
I smiled.
"I'm right here."
She watched me for a moment.
Then she closed her eyes.
I stayed beside her.
The blood results had not yet given us an answer.
The doctors were still working.
Maggie was still seriously weak.
And I still didn't know why.
But I knew that when the doctor returned, I needed to hear what the tests actually showed.
Not what I feared.
Not what I hoped.
The truth.
I held Maggie's hand and waited.
Click here to continue reading: PART 17: When the Doctor Returned With Maggie’s Blood Results, I Realized That Getting an Answer Was Not the Same as Understanding What Had Happened
I Rode Beside My Wife in the Ambulance, Knowing She Had Been Seriously Ill for Days Without Me Understanding Why
Part 16 of 20
