Originally, I was going to write from multiple perspectives, in line with the Weekly Writing Challenge. Until something happened today that reminded me that there’s more than one definition for the word “perspective”.

When I got home from my appointment with Dr Chiro today, I was in bad shape. That wasn’t his fault, of course. I never should have gone to my appointment in the first place. But after having such regret for missing my last appointment, there was no way I was bailing again. My back and neck actually felt great when I left. Driving in the sun, though, sure didn’t help my head. I walked in to see The Mr reclined on the couch, looking funny. He looked fine, physically, but he had an odd expression on his face.

“Now, don’t freak out.” He began.

Has there ever in the history of the world, Friendly Reader, been any story following that opening line, that didn’t warrant at least a modicum of freakage? Not in my personal experience of history on this earth. He may as well have instructed me to commence freaking. I ordered him to spit it out, because he’d guaranteed my freakiness.

“I think I need you to take me to the ER.”

“Why? What’s the matter?”

“I think I’m having a heart attack.”

Generally, this last declaration would likely induce panic and a 911 call (in the USA, but a list of other countries’ emergency #’s can be found here: Global Emergency Numbers). But for some reason, I didn’t think he was in any danger at all. I questioned his symptoms. He didn’t really fit the heart attack symptoms publicized by the American Heart Association. He appeared very frightened, however, and as I considered the situation, I realized that resting my head wasn’t nearly as important as not being a widow.

I took him to the hospital. Several hours, many tests and what I’d imagine will be hundreds of dollars later, they had no idea what was the matter with him. He was there so long, his pain went away! Dr ER found a good spot on The Husband’s chest to squish, that made The Husband yell. So, that was educational, in an exploratory, completely ambiguating manner. I’m home now, and will hopefully be asleep soon. He, sadly, is still there. They admitted him for observation. He tried his best to refuse to stay. Until Dr ER recounted the story of his father-in-law’s death. By surprise heart attack, in his sleep. BING! The urgency light finally went off in my brain. Nope! Mr ReloVertigo was not going home with me. I instructed him as to my unwillingness to wake up in the night to find ye olde dead husband at my side.

“Aha!” You say, “there is a perspective here, after all!”

Yes. And that perspective is this: it doesn’t matter how bad your head hurts, or how bad you want to throw up, if you have the rest of your life to rest your head in solitude. Especially if it was because you were too concerned with yourself to recognize that the man you love, and have loved for a couple decades, needed you more than you needed to be cloistered.

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Comments
  1. Thanks for reminding me that there are more important things to concern my mind with. I often forget and focus too much on my own pain and suffering.

  2. […] Perspective. Whether you like it or not. | 6 of One… […]

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