The hospital was all I could think about.
I wanted us to reach it.
I wanted someone to take Maggie into a place where more people could help her.
I wanted answers.
Most of all, I wanted her to stop looking so weak.
I sat beside the stretcher and watched the oxygen mask move with her breathing.
The paramedic remained near her.
I had begun to recognize the sounds of the equipment he was using.
I still didn't understand everything he checked.
But I understood that he was watching her closely.
That gave me something to hold on to.
The ambulance moved steadily.
I couldn't see much beyond the interior.
I had no idea exactly how far we were from the hospital.
I considered asking.
Then I decided not to.
Knowing the distance wouldn't make Maggie stronger.
It wouldn't make the road shorter.
I looked at her hand.
Her wedding ring rested against my finger.
I gently moved my thumb across her knuckles.
The little circle had become the one familiar thing I could keep doing.
Everything else was beyond my control.
Maggie's eyes opened.
I leaned forward.
"Hello, sweetheart."
She looked toward me.
I smiled.
"Still here."
She held my gaze.
I could see how tired she was.
I didn't ask her anything.
I waited until she closed her eyes.
Then I sat back.
I had become used to those short moments of recognition.
But I hadn't stopped feeling relieved each time they happened.
Every glance reminded me that she was still aware of my presence.
At least for those brief seconds.
I wanted to believe that meant something good.
I knew it didn't answer the larger questions.
She was still seriously unwell.
She still needed oxygen.
She still couldn't speak to me properly.
But she could find my face.
That was enough to make me grateful.
The paramedic checked her condition again.
I watched quietly.
He adjusted the oxygen mask.
I moved slightly to give him room.
There had been a time earlier in the ride when I wanted an explanation for everything he touched.
Now I tried to let him work.
I knew I could ask questions when necessary.
But I also knew that my fear didn't need to interrupt every moment.
The paramedic looked toward me.
"Do you have any information you haven't told us?"
I thought carefully.
I wanted to help.
I wanted to give him something new.
But I couldn't invent details.
"Nothing I'm sure about."
He nodded.
I looked down.
"She's been like this for days."
I swallowed.
"Three. Maybe four."
He acknowledged the answer.
I rubbed my forehead with my free hand.
"I wish I knew more."
He continued checking Maggie.
I looked at her face.
Her eyes were closed.
I couldn't tell whether she had heard what I said.
I hoped she hadn't taken it as criticism.
She hadn't done anything wrong by becoming ill.
She hadn't failed because she couldn't explain what was happening.
I leaned toward her.
"You don't need to worry about any of that."
She remained quiet.
"I'll tell them what I can."
I sat back.
That was the truth.
When the doctors asked questions, I would answer as honestly as possible.
If I didn't know something, I would say so.
If I wasn't certain, I wouldn't pretend.
I wanted Maggie to receive help based on what was true.
Not on what I wished I understood.
The ambulance shifted beneath us.
I steadied myself.
The paramedic checked her once more.
I watched him lean toward her.
"Maggie, can you hear me?"
Her eyelids lifted.
He spoke calmly.
She looked toward him.
Then she turned her eyes toward me.
I leaned forward.
"Hi."
She watched me.
I smiled.
Her eyes closed again.
I didn't feel the same urge to make her keep them open.
I knew how exhausting it was for her.
I had watched her try throughout the ride.
I was beginning to understand that I couldn't measure her condition by how much she could reassure me.
That wasn't fair to her.
She needed to rest.
She needed medical attention.
And she needed someone beside her who wasn't constantly asking her to prove she was listening.
I held her hand.
I thought about what would happen when we reached the hospital.
Someone would need information.
Someone would ask questions.
Someone would examine her.
I hoped they would tell me what was wrong.
I hoped they would know how to help.
But I also knew that arriving wouldn't suddenly erase everything that frightened me.
Maggie would still be ill.
The missing days would still need explaining.
The questions I couldn't answer would still exist.
I had been thinking of the hospital as the end of the frightening part.
Now I understood it was only the next place where people would try to help her.
That realization made my stomach tighten.
I had wanted the ambulance ride to finish because I thought everything would become easier.
Perhaps it would.
Perhaps the doctors would find answers quickly.
Perhaps Maggie would begin feeling better.
But I couldn't know.
And I had to stop making promises inside my own head.
I looked toward the paramedic.
He was still attending to her.
I felt grateful for his steady presence.
There were things he understood that I didn't.
There would be people at the hospital who understood even more.
I needed to trust them enough to let them do their work.
That didn't mean I would stop asking questions.
It didn't mean I would stop worrying.
It meant I could recognize when someone else had the knowledge Maggie needed.
I looked at her again.
I remembered how she had looked when I first sat beside her in the ambulance.
The pale face.
The oxygen mask.
The weakness in her fingers.
The way her eyes struggled to remain open.
Those things hadn't disappeared.
I wished they had.
But I was no longer fighting every moment as though I could force it to become different.
I was holding her hand.
I was watching her breathe.
I was waiting for the next step.
Maggie's eyes opened once more.
I leaned toward her.
"Hey, sweetheart."
She looked at me.
I saw recognition in her eyes.
I wanted to tell her that everything would be fine.
The words almost came out.
Then I stopped.
I didn't know what was going to happen.
I didn't want to promise something I couldn't guarantee.
So I told her the truth.
"I love you."
She watched me.
"I'm staying with you."
Her eyes closed.
I continued holding her hand.
The paramedic checked her again.
The ambulance kept moving.
I looked down at her wedding ring.
I rubbed the familiar circle over her knuckles.
I thought about all the ordinary years we had shared.
The conversations I hadn't paid much attention to.
The times we had reached for each other's hands without thinking.
The small moments that had made our marriage feel like home.
I wanted more of those moments.
I wanted Maggie to get another ordinary morning.
I wanted to hear her voice again.
I wanted her to look at me without that terrible exhaustion in her eyes.
I wanted so many things.
But wanting didn't make them happen.
For now, the only thing I could do was remain beside her.
I kept my hand around hers.
I watched her breathing beneath the oxygen mask.
And as the ambulance carried us toward the hospital, I understood that reaching it would not be the end of our fear.
It would be the beginning of finding out what had happened to Maggie.
Click here to continue reading: PART 13: When the Ambulance Finally Slowed Near the Hospital, I Held Maggie’s Hand and Prepared to Tell the Doctors What Little I Knew
I Rode Beside My Wife in the Ambulance, Knowing She Had Been Seriously Ill for Days Without Me Understanding Why
Part 12 of 20
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