Jack

a long weekend, and it’s only saturday

You don’t quite know how scared you are of losing someone until that abstraction becomes a distinct possibility. And there are a few things — medically speaking — that can bring the abstract into the concrete: strokes, heart attacks, compound fractures, kidney failure, etc. But there are also the more subtle circumstances, such as when your boyfriend tests positive for influenza b, and the next day his leg is massive swollen, and he goes to the ER, where he finds out he has a blood clot in his femoral vein (a deep vein thrombosis). Everyone’s quite concerned about the chance that said clot will migrate upward and end up in his lungs, at which point things get really scary.

JS was admitted to the hospital last night under these exact circumstances, and he was discharged today with subcutaneous injections to give himself (or for me to give him) for the next five days. He’ll be on another blood thinner for up to six months, maybe longer if his doctors decide this is a permanent concern. He’s home resting this evening, and it may be a while before he can spend the night at my place — we’ve been going back and forth a few times a week — as the three flights of stairs to my apartment are quite arduous for him in his current state. But I’ll be over at his place tomorrow to make dinner and watch a movie, and we’re going to attempt to carry on as normally as possible…

And me? I’m shaky because this really scared me. I know it’s a possibility any time I date an older man, but I’ve never encountered something so random and unpredictable before. And also? I really want him to stay alive as long as possible, because when I say I want to spend the rest of our lives together, I’m not just talking about until JS turns 60 (in 12 years); I don’t want to be a widow at age 47. But that’s playing the “what if” game in my head, and not in a positive way, so I won’t go there.

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