What a scare. This is hard. I type this in tears at 2:16 a.m.
Nice night out with friends; dinner at their house. We had fun.
Got home, parked the car. Luther went ahead of me. I was texting one of the girl's I'd been out with so it was a minute before I got out of the car.
Rounded the corner to our place, the door was open. I got closer, the diet coke we'd bought was scattered all over the floor. I realized so was Luther.
He was on the floor choking.
This is our life. This is it. Super panic but try to stay calm. Can you breathe? Can you breathe? I kept asking him, trying to hold his head to see if I could steady him.
Get me off the floor, he said. Or gasped, really. It's cold. I have to get up.
We tried. Several times. He couldn't get up. For lack of a better term, he was dead weight. I got a chair, thinking he could use that to grab.
But I had to get his arms up to the chair. Pull on his hips, get his hips square - he was all heaped in a tangled up mess.
Still coughing, choking, gasping for air. I told him to kneel for a moment, catch his breath. No, no, I want to get up.
He thinks he's bruised some ribs. His whole side hurts.
We got him up two flights of stairs (damn townhouse!) and in to bed. My trooper.
I can't sleep now.
Other than the day of the diagnoses, this has been officially the most scary moment so far.
Bracing for things to come.