I kept saying I was fine.
"They believed a delusional sick person?"
Gary was talking to Tina yesterday and she confessed that she felt terrible that I had appendicitis and she hadn't gone out to check on me even though she knew I was there. She'd already confessed how terrible she felt to me. Then she had to tell Gary. Oh dear. He didn't need to know that.
That's how my husband found out that the morning I fell ill, people allowed me to sit on the floor outside the gym waiting for him to drive from home to pick me up. He'd driven me to school and then gone to the store to buy organic milk and bananas and "other fun stuff" for our granddaughter's arrival. When he got home he found my message "Please call", called me back, and then got himself out the door.
In the mean time I had set up my classroom as best I could manage and after he called I went out closer to the door to wait for Gary to get me. People asked if I was okay, and I kept telling them, I'm fine, sick, but my husband is on the way.
So I sat with my back against the west wall of the gym, legs out in front of me, hoping Gary would arrive quickly. The truth is the pain was pretty bad, and soon would be worse than what I can recall from two births. It's hard to remember, but I guess by the time he got to the gym doors, I stood up.
The rest of the morning and into the afternoon, he stood nearby, offering water or tea, asking again and again if I didn't want to go to the hospital, until finally he got me there. Appendicitis should not happen to people my age. I had naive hopes about the speed of my recovery because I hate missing school.
At my post-op appointment yesterday, the surgeon was pleased that I was already back at work. I am tired, but I managed a couple of hours at Open Library last night.
Of course my paperwork says I've had my gall bladder removed so we are curious what the bill will be, and the bruise on my belly is still fading, but otherwise things have gone well. The nurses were wonderful.
Gary, bless his heart, is not forgiving about people who hurt me, but he's feeling kindly towards those who have been kind. The people who called or sent a card or stopped by get a free pass to heaven in Gary's book.
Poor Hemingway. Yes, I love my books, but if that was the best he thought he had... well, no wonder.
I am a lucky woman.