The One Time I Miss My Ex-Husband
It took an emergency to realize I’m alone
I left the hospital. I didn’t want to. Covid restrictions said I had to leave my youngest baby behind. He was now twenty. Every part of me ached. I knew he was scared. I was too.
I stayed past the restricted time.
The nurse assured me she would call if necessary. I countered with my resolve. I would be here when the doors opened. I got home and walked our two labs. I don’t remember falling asleep. I recall staring at the ceiling until I did.
The next morning my phone rang. It was minutes before I planned to leave. I owe a debt to the sweet nurse on the other end. An indescribable gratitude. She was far too young to deliver news with such composure.
“Ms. Orme,” she said. “I want you to know your son’s heart paused for nearly seven seconds.”
“I’m on my way,” I say.
I have little time to reflect on the severity. I have one need. To get to my baby. The one I didn’t want to leave. The one who was scared. The one it felt unnatural to abandon because of pandemic rules.
His heart will pause several more times.
Only then do I grasp the young nurse’s gentle terminology. My son’s heart is stopping. For three seconds and then six seconds and then three seconds. They transfer him to a floor equipped to deal with this.
This time I refuse to leave.
Not openly. I fear they won’t let me. Instead, I curl up in a chair and never exit the room. He’s hooked up to all kinds of things. I reassure him but I don’t sleep. I watch the heart monitor.
It’s a week-long journey.
Twenty-four hours a day. They tell me I’m lucky. They say restrictions are lifting. I’m able to be there with my son. I leave only to walk our dogs and return immediately.
On an average day, I don’t miss my husband. Marriage was a lonely space in my life. But I need a person. I need an anchor. Our parents and our spouses fill these coveted spots.
The people who absorb a portion of our fears.
I’m not foolish enough to look for my ex-husband.
This is the second time our son has been hospitalized. Six months earlier he had internal bleeding. My husband sat next to me as doctors and nurses urgently raced into the room. He seemed unfazed and told me he was leaving.
“Could you wait for a half-hour,” I ask?
“Why?” he says.
“I’m a bit unnerved they ran into his room like that,” I say.
“What’s the big deal?” he says. “On the treadmill, my heart rate goes that high.”
“He’s a twenty-year-old boy,” I say. “Who walked to the bathroom.”
But my ex-husband doesn't get it. He can’t comprehend there’s nothing normal about a young man’s heart increasing at that rate. When he’s not working out. When he’s just walking.
He’s oblivious to the nurse and doctor barging in asking, “Where is he?”
“In the bathroom,” I say. Unaware of the danger.
Of the few steps that have alarmed an entire floor.
My ex-husband indulged me and stayed the thirty minutes. But he was never there ‘with me.’ I knew he wasn’t present. He sat beside me but he was thoroughly vacant.
I knew he wasn’t capable of it. But I needed someone to hang onto. Someone who made me feel like everything was going to be okay. Someone who insulated my pain.
An anchor.
It was the one time I missed my ex-husband. Sadly, it made me realize I never needed him. He had never been there for me. Or our children. He would go home and sleep soundly. Never would he worry about our actual reality.
I’m a single parent.
When I worry about my babies I miss not having an anchor.
NOTE: My son is happy and healthy. They determined his internal bleeding was caused by a bleeding ulcer. When he was hospitalized six months later they tied it to the medications he was on and believe that is what caused his heart irregularity.
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