On the drive back to my apartment, I spoke with my wife for the 30 minutes it took. We’ve been doing this regularly. She seems to like the calls, no hurry to ring off. I usually call on the pre-text of checking on something tactical and we end up just talking. She’s a great girl, we’re still a couple in some odd sort of way.
In writing this blog, I’ve realized I’ve left off bit n’ bobs about things. Not fair, really. I render an eloquent opinion on all things not me. Things me tend to be manly and superman in nature. But in a desire to pursue factual over fiction, I pursue the goal of being truthful.
Years ago, the exact date/time immaterial, I was living at home, embroiled in the whole state of “what has my husband done”. I had taken up residence in the guest room, not yet prepared to abandon my kingdom. My wife not yet prepared to accept the fate that awaited both of us.
I am snug in my bed and the wife wants to have an argument. Something about why I like cock. It’s 11.30 p.m. The kids well into bed at night. I try and calm the situation. Go to bed, we can talk about it tomorrow. But the woman is fired up, she won’t let it go. In to my face she goes, relentless. Please let this end.
I strike out. My arm extends with rapid force striking her in the throat. She gasps with air, her voice immediately changed and falls to the floor. The kids all emerge, like rats on a sinking ship, what is going on. Oh my god, what have I done.
The mood changes. I need to take charge. It is time to help my spouse. She gasps for air. Hurt, angry, sad and now hurt. I try to bring calm to the situation. She utters more evil towards me. I am in charge. Calm returns. She beds back down after a while. The kids return to their beds. I prop her up in the master bedroom and retire back to the guest room. I do not sleep. She does not either.
The morning arrives, she is still gasping for air. I am not a doctor but I don’t like this. We bundle up and off to the ER she goes and is immediately admitted. I had forgot triage, but breathing and circulation tend to be important in maintaining life. IV’s go in, a specialist is called. I worry, she relaxes.
The specialist looks, severe inflammation of the throat, he worries, the airway passage had narrowed to the size of a straw, a blood clot had formed. Medication is prescribed. More IV’s.
Luckily, the worse had actually passed in the night, the medication reduced the inflammation and some hours later, we went home. The nurse asking for a report on how the accident happened. My wife explained she had slipped and fell. Kinda of an unusual accident, but since my wife was saying this without duress, she didn’t press the issue.
We rode home. Life continued. I took her a long distance in the coming weeks for the throat surgeon for check-ups and my wife fully recovered. We never spoke about it again. I was sorry immediately. I am sorry now. We are talking on the phone as I make my 30 minute commute home.
I was not in charge that night. It takes a while to flare me up, I blow fast at certain pressures and then calm down fast. That’s me. It’s not often I blow. In fact, it’s rarely, almost memorable.
I tell you this, not to clear my chest, my wife has, I believe, forgiven me though I haven’t forgiven myself. But to illustrate, in stark reality, the challenge you may be facing. Along these paths, I have faced things, that I’d never seen before, things I didn’t want to face. But the tape is running, there are no do-overs, it’s all live and you just play it out. I hope for you the best.