Abby’s Home

Abby and I pose for a photo at a Shoffner family reunion a couple of years ago.
Abby and I pose for a photo at a Shoffner family reunion a couple of years ago.

Abby is home after a frightening 10-day hospital stay. Though she is not entirely well, she is well enough to be home. Yesterday she could not wait to be discharged, and last night she seemed particularly concerned that I sleep with her, which I did since I am over my illness as well.

Abby’s illnesses present atypically, as in a doctor might think trauma from a fall, but instead Abby is dehydrated from a fever. Additionally, her illnesses are often idiopathic, which can be very frustrating. A week ago I honestly thought I might lose her. I couldn’t eat or sleep – I lost ten pounds. I kept asking myself, “What would I do without her?” The answer was always that I don’t know.

I remind myself that when she’s sick, she’s the one who suffers the most, is the loneliest, has the most to lose.

It is an immense relief to have her home.

Abby sleeps in her recliner with our dogs Sierra and Max earlier this year. One of the things she misses the most when she is hospitalized is our dogs.
Abby sleeps in her recliner with our dogs Sierra and Max earlier this year. One of the things she misses the most when she is hospitalized is our dogs.

 

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5 Comments

  1. An emotional read. I’m glad she’s home. I didn’t know it was this bad. I would have been terrified, as well. Can’t find any words of reassurance that don’t sound like cliches, but we are concerned about y’all. Hoping for the best for both of you.

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  2. My neck’s been stiff with worry all these days without my really having realized it. May she continue to gather strength and may you sleep peacefully tonight and for years of nights to come.

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  3. Excellent news that she’s home and feeling better (and you too).

    ‘I kept asking myself, “What would I do without her?” The answer was always that I don’t know.’

    I will admit that I have this train of thought every time my wife doesn’t arrive home from work exactly on time, or she has to drive in the rain or on ice, and of course every time there’s a news alert from Ft. Hood (where she works). I’m not a chronic worrier, but I recognize there’s an ever-present possibility of a sudden loss, regardless of health/illness.

    If she ever goes, my light will always burn more dimly — but I will have to force extra brightness from it for the sake of my children.

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