Before I got into a serious relationship, I didn’t think I was capable of being in a serious relationship. I would meet people who were interested in me, but I would find something that just didn’t feel right and I would end it.
My first relationship unfolded because the man I fell in love with was determined to have me. He didn’t pursue me. He just showed up for me.
He called and listened to me. He responded when I said I was having a problem. Throughout our relationship, I didn’t have to worry about him not being there and I enjoyed the dependability.
I took that attitude into my next serious relationship and I just wanted to show up. This relationship gave me plenty of reasons to show up. We were only together for 6 years, but in that time we faced so many difficulties.
We both lost jobs and places to live. I held his hand by his Grandmother’s bed while she died. He held my hand while I buried my father. We lost a child together. We both had illnesses. There were so many things that hit us year-after-year that it’s amazing we got through it.
But, one thing really signaled to me how much I was willing to do for someone I love.
One day, he called me and told me his back was hurting really badly. I was getting ready to leave work so I told him I would pick up some things from the store for his back.
I arrived at his place, opened the door and walked up the stairs to the bedroom. I was carrying a bag with heating pads, Tylenol and Nyquil because he said he thought he had a fever. I walked into the bedroom to find him sprawled across the end of the bed with his clothes still on.
I walked over to him and asked why was he on the end of the bed. He said he couldn’t move.
I thought he was playing, but he yelled when I tried to move him. I knew something was wrong.
I asked him to tell me everything. What was he doing before this happened? He told me he had gone to work and come home. When he got upstairs, he felt a pop in his back then his knees buckled and he had been like that on the bed ever since.
I asked if he could feel his legs and he said he could, but I was concerned. I suggested we go to the hospital, but he didn’t have any insurance at the time so he refused. We spent the night trying to treat it with Tylenol and all the things I had purchased. Nothing worked. Finally, at 2 a.m., he was in too much pain. I called an ambulance.
They had to bring a special stretcher up the steps and carry him out. We were in the E.R. for hours as they ran tests. After 7 hours, they determined he had slipped a disc in his back and it was bulging out. It was possibly pressing against his spine. He was sent home with some prescriptions and some crutches. They thought once the inflammation went down that he would be better. They believed it would slip back into place.
By the time we returned to the house, his phone rang and he told me to answer it. It was the hospital and the nurse sounded concerned. She said, we needed to return, but she wouldn’t tell me why over the phone. She said they found something in his tests.
I told him, but he didn’t want to. We were both tired. I asked the nurse if we could return the next day after we had a chance to lay down. She said, it was serious and we needed to return.
I told her that we were coming back. He argued with me, but we got ourselves together and went back to the hospital.
When we got to the ER, no one told us why we were there. Finally, a nurse came out and took us back to a room in the ER. They hooked him up to IV’s and everything. The doctor came and told us that they found MRSA in his test. They believed it was in his blood. They needed him to be put on Antibiotics right away.
They admitted him and began giving him heavy antibiotics. The first day, he seemed fine, but things got progressively worse. The bulging disc started pressing on a nerve and he complained of having fire running down his back and side. They considered surgery, but they couldn’t until they were sure the infection was gone. In the meantime, he was unable to walk.
Every single day, I would leave his house and go to work. I would spend 8 hours at work and then go to the hospital. I would check to make sure he had eaten. He didn’t like the hospital food so I packed up snacks and cakes that he could enjoy. I brought magazines for him to read. I brought him a blanket when he complained of being cold in the hospital. His drawers were full of things to make him feel as comfortable as possible. I updated all his concerned family members.
I would sit with him each night until visiting hours were over. I hated leaving him. Some nights I cried as I lay in the bed alone. The nurses and medical staff knew me and would reassure me. When they were finally ready to report good news, they waited until I got there. It had been a month, but he was ready to be moved to Physical Therapy. He was still on antibiotics.
I was there for every day of physical therapy cheering him on and marveling at how he was pushing himself to relearn how to walk. He moved swiftly through physical therapy and he was able to go home earlier than they expected. They sent him home with instructions because he still had to take antibiotics by pills.
I got him home and into the bed. He was still weak and unable to get around so I became his nurse. Luckily, I could work from home so I was on my laptop while he slept. He had to take his antibiotics every 4 hours. So, I set my clock and I even slept in 4-hour intervals to make sure he finished out his medicine because they said it could come back if not. I attended every follow-up appointment until he was given a clean bill of health.
What this taught me was how much I had to give. Not only did I handle every hard thing that came along, but I quickly prioritized my life and knew where I wanted to be. In the end, it cost me some things, but I walked away knowing that if it called on me to step up for someone I loved that I was capable of it. It also showed me that maybe I deserved more than I expected.
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This post is republished on Medium.
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