Good Friday this year was by far the worst day of my life. I wish that I was exaggerating but I’m not. On Good Friday Paul had a suspected heart attack and had to be revived twice. He wasn’t breathing and he didn’t have a heart beat. Twice.
The circumstances that lead up to Paul collapsing meant that I was 30km away. Receiving a phone call from someone telling you that your partner is being revived is terrifying. 30km feels like it’s hours away and every single person on the road is driving at a snails pace. I was in shock and could feel the adrenaline kicking in.
As we got closer to Paul’s house and hadn’t been passed by a returning ambulance my heart lodged itself firmly in my throat. I couldn’t lose him. Turning the corner and seeing 3 ambulances in his driveway made me feel both relieved that help was here and alarmed that so much was needed.
The emotions fell out for a few seconds before my body went back into survival mode. I needed to see him. His son-in-law said he was OK but I wanted to see for myself. I needed to hear his voice.
I walked in the door and saw him batting away the ambulance officers and telling them that he was OK. That was the moment that I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding. He was giving the ambulance officers hell, trying to show that he was tough and didn’t need taking care of. I knew in that moment that he was going to be OK and that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Then I wanted to cause physical harm to the person who had put him in that situation. I wanted to hurt him the way that he had hurt every single person there. I was simmering with rage and was glad that the police were there to take him away.
Before that day I didn’t realise that it was possible to feel such conflicting emotions all at once. I felt rage, fear, relief and gratefulness. I felt love, overwhelmingly I felt love. Love for Paul, for Mr 6 and for Paul’s daughter and son-in-law who were amazing under so much pressure.
It was a scary experience and it hit home for me just how much I love Paul. He’s recovering well at the moment. His daughter and I actually convinced him to go to a Dr. I think that the experience has really shaken him up. I can imagine it’s worrying to be faced with your own mortality. It’s one thing to joke about living hard and dying young, but it’s quite another to be faced with that reality.
Linking up with Jess for IBOT