I hate hospitals. I hate everything about them, but mostly I hate that smell. That concoction of alcoholic sterility where doctors have alien-like hands and the energy of life and death linger in the hallways. There's nothing romantic about a hospital. I’m amazed that I was able to actually work in a clinical environment at one point in my life. Passing the morgue for me was always an anxiety filled treat. “Will I see a dead person today?” To think I have been obsessed with the subject my entire life, but of course that's because in my death scenarios there are beautiful angels, and gods and goddesses with super powers, and there's all the mysteries of the world laid out before me. It's a giddy heaven.

The call came around midnight. I was already asleep and my phone was downstairs charging. The message from your mother was received in the morning and what was said created confusion. Her voice was as though she was calling to tell me my car was ready at the garage, but all I heard was hospital and your name. You had apparently had a seizure and was held in the ICU in Staten Island and that they were on their way up to you.

Did I only warrant ONE phone call? Why wasn't I called immediately? What were you doing in Staten Island? And why would they not have waited for me?

The part which was confusing was the part where I was not with them. I never do well in these situations. That was your realm. You could handle tragedy and shocking occurrences with a calmness for both of us. I tend to freeze up and am immobilized by fear. I'm not the girl you take to the apocalypse, you will surely die in my presence. I knew I had to take the first flight out. I have no idea how I came up with the money and the entire trip there is a complete fog. I sat next to a nice woman on the flight and she asked me about my trip. I was talking, but I wasn't there. I felt sick. I was trying not to cry and to tell myself that everything is ok. All I remembered when I landed was calling a car from our car service in Ridgewood and having a nice conversation with the driver, but all I felt was anxiety. I couldn't get to the hospital fast enough and I could already feel the terrible lighting and the smell...that horrible fucking smell.

I didn’t have one inch of a clue as to what could have happened to you. When I arrived at the hospital your father was in the parking lot and JM had arrived at the same time. Your father, who tends to be pretty unemotional in most circumstances, had given us the very little knowledge he had about your condition and said the doctors had not come to speak to them yet. I knew it was bad because in that instant your father broke into tears and hugged me. That’s when the fear set in. That's when I became detached. If I decided to take on what I felt in that parking lot from your father, I would not have been able to go in there. You also remember I’m quite intuitive and sense things before they become realization for everyone else. The assent to the ICU was excruciating as my stomach flip-flopped, and as I turned the corner and saw your mother there doing what she always does in these circumstances --- remaining calm and reassuring us all that everything is going to be alright while passing out bagels while the sky is falling and people are screaming all around her with their hair on fire.

The way I felt was indescribable. I guess the best way to put it is, foreign. Despite sitting there with your parents, waiting for your brother to arrive, and the slow trickle of friends who began to fill up the waiting room seats, I felt as though I was floating in some alternate universe.

And what the fuck was I doing in Staten Island. We've lived here for almost 5 years and I've never been here.

What happened next was a universal jolt and shock I was not prepared for, nor was I prepared for all that followed.

Before I get into what happened on that day, I would like to interject with some advice to others who are joining the story. When you marry someone, you are that person’s other half. No other person gets to tell you what you feel, what you can allow or permit, and it is you who decides when your spouse cannot. Nobody gets that right except for you.

This was a right I had ripped from my very soul.

As we sat there waiting for the doctor, I was texting furiously with all of our friends. I was updating them on your status and it was the only way I could cope with the current environment. When the doctor came out, your parents immediately went to him, I sat at the edge of my seat waiting to see when I’d be called. I had to stand up and walk over for them to acknowledge I was a “need-to-know” party. Your parents brought me into the inner circle and I was asked who I was.

Who am I? I’m his wife, jackass. His sister? No, he doesn’t have a sister. I’m his wife so just tell me what the hell is going on with my husband.

The whole time I’m thinking, You fucking idiot, do I look like this blond haired, blue eyed family’s daughter/sister??? I was also thinking, you guys took his wedding ring off, how did you not know he had a wife? So while I'm processing this, I can't help but think to take you out of this place. The next news that my ears received caused just a clanging that my body kind of lost it's muscle. You remember when you're a kid and you get real scared and you think, "Oh my God, the monster is totally in my room!" You lay there, numb. That was me. Numb. I couldn't cry. I couldn't scream. I couldn't emote anything. I just stared at the doctor in disbelief.

What kind of drugs was he on? He didn't do drugs. Yes, he's a musician, what does that have to do with anything. The only drugs he's on is a new antidepressant. Can someone have a stroke from that?! Well yeah, I think a 34 having a stroke is quite rare, dipshit. The man ran almost every day. He didn't smoke. He ate incredibly healthy and he drank minimally. I am the one. I'm the one with all the vices! Why did this happen to him!

The doctor described what had happened to you. The prognosis was inconclusive. You essentially had a stroke in your brain stem, but it was described in docspeak which made no sense to me. It left you in “locked in syndrome”. That little term echoed in my head like a sonic boom, because that meant your and my worst nightmare. Not only would you be completely cognizant and aware of everything, but you would also be trapped in your own body, unable to move anything except for your eyes. Most people do not survive this. I had recalled the time we saw “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” and then the tears began to stream and I realized our lives as husband and wife was truly and finally discontinued.

To Be Continued...