Me: Hello?

Sarah: Hey, Em.  This is going to sound weird, but I think I just saw David’s feet through the back of an ambulance. 

Me: What?  That’s crazy. 

Sarah: I know.  I just thought I should tell ya. 

Me: Thanks, friend. 

Four hours later…I call several local hospitals and finally discover that David, who did not return home from a work happy hour and is not answering his phone, is indeed checked in to the ER.  He was picked up after having passed out in our front yard.  A neighbor called the 911 because she thought it was a medical emergency.  Turns out heavy drinking and psychotropic drugs are not a good mix.  So, I drive in the middle of the night, to the ER to collect my husband.  Looking back on this, I am struck by my not pushing the issue.  I did not question what had led to the events of the night, nor did I harp on his ridiculous appearance or story.  I let it go.  I did not voice my worry.  I did not give voice to the pit in my stomach telling me something was going terribly wrong.  I chose to believe the lie that everything was good.  That he loved me.  That he loved us.  That he would choose to be healthy.  That he would choose me. 


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