So, where do I start? I guess like I do most things. Jump right in, regardless. Husband, love of my life, back in hospital. His body giving him hell as usual. Child 1 and 2 over at friends, loving every minute...of course. (And thank God we have friends who will take them for two days.) Me? The flight or fight mechanism is in full swing and I'm running or gunning at any given moment.
Walter Canon first wrote about the Fight or Flight response in a paper titlted "Bodily Changes in Pain, Hunger, Fear and Rage", in 1929. The scientific field quickly realized that this theory was too simplistic. Animals, like us, respond in complex ways...some will try to flee then turn and fight when cornerd. Some will stand absolutely still hoping that the predator won't notice them. Some will change colors. And then there is the desire to flee toward safety, not just away from danger. And then again, there is the idea of escaping physically and mentally--disappearing into something else, say a book.
And women? Well, as usuall we have to complicate things even more. While we tend, according to science to want to flee, we will also turn back, but not to fight but to "tend and befriend". Really? And then, if we are a mother, then the whole 'mother bear' comes out and we want to protect our young or anything else in our realm that needs protection.
And that is where I found myself all weekend. Right smack dab in the middle of all of those feelings and often feeling multiple needs at once. Fighting to get Husband to the emergency room because, well, things were just not right and he didn't want to see it. Then fighting to get the right attention at the emergency room. (God love nurses!) Then, when settled, wanting to flee to get children or to my lovely two-headed shower with a pint (ha...gallon) of Rocky Road. And there is the where I flail, stuck in the 'coulda, woulda, shoulda' moment. Instinct tells me to get my kids because they need me. It's a stressfull situation and they'll have questions and I should be there for them. Yet everything else tells me--run to the bookstore, get a 'bad' book (Regency-era bodice ripper with super hot sex scenes and funny dialog), go home and 'disappear' for a while...crawl into bed for two hours before I have to be back at the hospital.
The answer? Yes to it all. The more I think abot it, the more I stand still not doing anything. So, I put one foot down and then the other. I get Husband settled with magazine, book, food and a kiss. I check on kids....Mom who? Heck, one yells in the background. "I don't want to talk to her cause she'll make me come home". Resilient little buggers. Bookstore, hot dog place, home, shower, bed. Heaven.
And, just as I get to a really good part in the book, nurse calls. Husband on drugs playing 'hide and go seek' with their phones. "Can you come and sit with him honey?". And back to the hospital I go.
And that's fine. Kids are good. Husband is walking at least, and thinking he's funny. Right? And, with the good part in the book just one page away, I can hide in plain sight when I get there. No need to fight tonight.
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