Warning: this post may border on the depressing side. It is not intended, but is meant as an honest reflection of my thoughts toward living, writing, and loving.
This week I’ve been away. Concerning a previous post, some may think this is the vacation that was mentioned. It isn’t. While I have written those posts, I set them up for pre-publishing never planning for an unexpected absence. While the tale may be a bit longer than I’m going to give it credit, I’m going to give the rundown from Tuesday.
My fiancé had been sick and getting worse for several days. Twice we went to the emergency room. Twice they sent him home. Twice he went back worse than before. Tuesday morning, I called an ambulance and we went, for the third time in less than a week, to the emergency room. He thought he might be having a heart attack, but it was really his heart rate that he was feeling, making him very short of breath. His heart was in the 150s. For a little perspective, the average marathon runner’s heart rate, during the marathon, is in the 130s.
That day we spent six hours in the emergency room. His heart rate never went down. And they were talking about sending him home, again. I was beyond furious. You do not send someone home like that; they will have a heart attack. They called his attending physician who ordered some extra tests, during that time, my fiancé got even worse. While his temperature never increased, he started shaking violently. Thinking about blood clots, they finally admitted him. We have been in the hospital since then.
Since this excursion was rather unexpected, I did not have time to alter my blog posts to have them published at an earlier date. I wasn’teven sure how long we would be in here, making the alterations (if I was to make them) rather moot. I have been in the hospital for nearly a week. As I write this, although I’m not sure when it will post, it’s Saturday. I have left his side on a handful of occasions, usually at his insistence, to make his life as easy as possible, including taking care that his job will get done even
though he is in the hospital. I have not spent the extra time it would have taken while away to alter the posts, or publish a new one. My only goal: to spend as little time away from him as possible. And it has been unfortunate that the internet at the hospital is currently disengaged as they are rewiring the internet throughout the building.
That is the back-story to what I really want to write about. My fiancé could have died. Had they sent him home on Tuesday, as they were threatening to do, he would have died. We have both had to come to terms with this fact, since he was diagnosed with pneumonia, among a host of other problems including a Staph infection. We were both terrified, although he has tried to hide it.
But what does this all have to do with being “unafraid?” Life sucks. So take the time to enjoy it. Don’t spend your entire time worrying about money, or worrying about anything. Life has a way of sorting itself out. Don’t be afraid to take a chance on someone or something. Try a new food. Read a book that you haven’t read, and wouldn’t normally pick up. Do something with your life and don’t be afraid that you’ll be rejected, or you won’t like it. Do it anyway, because life is short, sometimes shorter than we originally intended it to be. Take the chance to make your life so much the better because you know that you did what you could to make it so. Don’t let little insecurities hold you back. Push through them and live.
I’m terrified that I’ll never be published, and I know that it hold me back. I’ve written three chapters while in the hospital with my fiancé. I’m not going to let fear of rejection hold me back. I’ll keep writing because I love to. I’m going to try new things and go new places because I want to. I’m not going to let the lack of a “day job” ever get me down again. I’m going to live. I’m going to be unafraid.