A Difficult Day

Today I went to the hospital with a friend who was having an x-ray done.  A flood of memories came washing over me.  You see...the last time I was in this hospital was to say goodbye to my husband of 33 years.

It was as if it had just happened yesterday.  The call...the panic...the fear in my heart.  Rushing down the long hospital corridor to the door to his corner room in the ICU...and seeing him hooked up to machines, unresponsive.  Seeing the fear in my children's faces...hearing the Dr. say "It doesn't look good.  He probably will not live through the day"....

And then, a week later...after being tested to see if his brain was still alive....The Dr and nurses coming into the room with the family.  They began closing the blinds in the room, and I knew. Without a word being said, I knew.  He was gone.

The rest of the night is a blur.  I remember prayers being said as all of his closest friends and family surrounded the bed where he lay.  I remember talking to organ donation people.

I remember....

I remember how bipolar disorder ripped my husband from my life.  I HATE bipolar disorder.  It took a loving, kind-hearted, Christian man and stole so many precious lovely moments from him.  Because of it, he gave up on our marriage.  Because of it, he gave up on himself and his dream of doing mission work to help starving people overseas. He gave up on his dream of being a grandfather one day.

Because of it, he has missed so many beautiful moments.  He has missed the moments of watching his youngest son join the U.S. Navy where he serves in Japan.  He has missed seeing his daughter move into a great house in a nice neighborhood near friends and find love....and seeing his oldest son excel at his job, part-time business, and marriage.  He has missed seeing me publish the book that would not have been possible without him believing in me and supporting me in an advanced publishing course that I took.

I have so many wonderful memories of Bob.  Still, bipolar disorder is always lurking around the corner, interjecting the moments that were painful, at times angry.  I wish I could convince every person who suffer from bi-polar disorder to take their medication, to seek therapy...and to never give up.

Today was hard.  I felt my husband's presence in those hospital corridors, and I remembered the anguish of losing him.  I would not wish that kind of day on anyone.