Been A Tough Couple of Days

John's been sick.  Since he's my hero, it's been kinda like watching Superman when they would throw that Kryptonite stuff on him and then he couldn't fly and his super powers wouldn't work.

First it was acute bronchitis.  We thought we had our arms around that situation, even though he was still having a few problems.  "Takes awhile to get over a tough case of bronchitis," the doctor said, so, I expected him to be better as each day passed.

That didn't happen.  Wednesday, he got worse.  The day started out okay, but soon, I could tell, Superman wasn't doing well.  Since he had slept quite a bit that day, I really pushed him to stay up, at least till nine o'clock and then I would give him his medicine and we would go to bed.  And he did.  But he was cold and just couldn't seem to get the blanket up tight enough around him.  After a bit I dozed off, but something woke me up.  When I slid my leg over toward him, he was cold.  I mean really cold, cold enough that in my sleepy state, I thought he was dead.  But then he moved and said, "I can't breathe."  He got up and sat on the side of the bed.  He still couldn't get his breath.  I went to the medicine cabinet and found the thermometer.  92.8, something was really wrong.  By now, his breathing was even more labored and I told him we need to get to the hospital.  "No, maybe I will get better in a few minutes," he said ever so faintly.

The eleven o'clock news was coming on and John struggled to get up and make it to the bathroom, his breathing was short and quick and it was obvious, he was in very much distress.  But he couldn't get back to the bed, a mere 15 feet away.

"We have to go to the hospital, now," I said, "how much longer do you think you can go on like this?"  "Call the doctor, see what he says," John said with a barely audible voice.

After talking with his doctor, who directed me to get him to the ER ASAP, we still had to get to the hospital, which is about 25 minutes away.  "Do you want me to call the rescue squad?"  "No, I want you to take me.  Pull the Tahoe up to the front door, I don't think I can walk all the way to the garage."

John was in severe distress and I was getting scared, he wasn't even able to get out of the bedroom, much less walk down the hall, down the front steps and to the car.  Our house is 114 feet end to end, and our bedroom is at one end....the garage at the other.

So, I started thinking, how can I get him out?  Wheels, I need wheels, so I got the office computer chair that has five large rollers.  As I rolled it to the bedroom to get John, I realized it probably wouldn't roll over the Oriental rugs I had in the hallway once he was in the chair, there was too much padding under them, so I quickly rolled them up and got everything out of the way.  After that, I got our two dogs and put them in the laundry room so they wouldn't cause a problem as we maneuvered our way down the steps.

John was barely able to stand up and get to the chair, but we made it and I rolled him slowly down the hall, through the living room and kitchen, and to the back door.  "I always knew you were a good Girl Scout," he said softly, referring to my ingenuity in using the computer chair.

I had moved the Tahoe as close as I could to the steps.  Slowly, he stood up and I locked my arms around his waist. Our next challenge was getting down the steps without falling.  We made it to the car, next stop PCMH ER.

To be continued....

PCQ