At about 4:15 this morning, David made his usual trek from the bed to the bathroom.  He has done this forever, so it seemed like a normal evening.  At about 4:25 he called for me to help, which was unusual, because he normally is fine on his own at this hour.  When I got to him in the bathroom, he was in a cold sweat, and having trouble, and soon after I got there, he just went limp and passed out.  I panicked for a brief moment, and then propped his head on the sink, and ran to get my phone to call 911.  He was still out when I was on the phone with 911, and the call got disconnected, and I redialed.  While I was on the phone for the second time, he came to and started dry heaving.  They had all the information, and in about 10 minutes EMS was here and getting down to business.  The first technician walked into the bathroom and started asking David questions, and I jumped in to answer, but David was doing OK and the medic told me he would like to hear from David.  After some back and forth, and getting an IV line run, and BP check (it was shockingly low, something like 80/50) they started getting David ready for transport.  I packed a bag for the hospital and got dressed.

We went downstairs and were off to Bellevue again.  What I learned from this visit was how different the ER is during different times of the day.  When we arrived, the ER was like a drunk tank.  I would say that about 90 percent of the people there were simply sleeping off a bender.  We got there at a little before 5am and by 8am most of the drunks were being ushered out.  Some more willing than others.  The patient in the bed next to David was very chatty, and when the nurse came in to tell him it was time to go, he said the Doctor said he could stay until 11am, when he had to go to work.  She brought him breakfast, and said he could eat first, but she was calling for the police in 15 minutes.  He refused her hospitality and  began getting himself together.  The nurse’s aide had brought him a bag full of breakfast goodies earlier, so he could afford to refuse her gesture.

David, by this point, was ready to go home, and made that clear.  He actually was asking to go home when we were in the aisle waiting for a space to be freed up by one of the folks sobering up.  The shifts were about to change, and his initial Doctor thought that they would release David soon, as soon as his blood tests came back, but, alas, the shift changed, and the Doctor who came on, wanted to do some tests on his heart.  Needless to say, David would have none of that, and insisted that he go home.  I called Dr Karp, after they had spoken to him, and he said “I can’t advise you to leave the hospital, but we can do the test that they wanted to do as an outpatient”.  Once again, we were leaving Bellevue AMA (Against Medical Advice).  During all of this, and influencing my eagerness to leave, a patient joined us in our space.  He was a construction worker who had cut his hand with a saw, and I did all I could do to distract myself from the very concept of what had happened.  My imagination is my worst enemy!  It is one of the reasons I can’t see scary movies – they feed my squeamish, overactive imagination.  The superintendent on the job, who accompanied him to the hospital, was talking to he, and it was scary how much he sounded like my brothers, and it was no shock to me that at a certain point, he said he was from New Jersey.  East Brunswick, New Jersey.  It does make me glad that at a certain point I worked on loosing my NJ accent.
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We finally got sprung from the ER at about 11am, so we were there for only six hours, but it seemed like forever, and I don’t get how they nurses and doctors handle it.  My feet were killing me, not to mention my back and my hips.  Walking on those concrete floors are a killer.  Went home, and had cancelled swimming, but forgot about the cleaning lady, and about two seconds after I flopped in bed, the doorbell rang.  Thankfully, she could come back tomorrow.  Slept for a few hours, and took it easy for the rest of the day.

There was a point in the early evening when David said he was sorry to me.  This made it clear that he did understand, at least to an extent, how traumatizing it is for me to see him pass out and not know what is going on.  Getting back to the overactive imagination, and how sometimes it works in my favor.  When he passed out, you can just imagine what was going through my head.  He went limp and ashen, and was not responding to me at all.  It was what made call 911 in July.  Just the thought of loosing him was terrifying to me.  What the hell would my life be without my partner in crime?