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As soon as he hit the bed, he lied on his back and fell asleep.
I went to the kitchen, heated up a canned soup from the cupboard and brought the steaming bowl to his room.
"Zander, you have to eat something," I coaxed him to get up.
All he did was grunt, followedby another bout of coughing.
He lookedmiserable.
I felt his head with the back of my hand, he was burning up! I went to his bathroom, ran hand towels under the cool water, and placed them on his head. His clothes were soaked in sweat. He lifted his arms when I pulled on his shirt and tried to lift his legs when I pulled on hispants. He was so weak, he barely helped me out.
In my nursing rotations, I was used to changing my patient's beds and giving them baths. But changing and giving a sponge bath to a 220 lb male, all muscle, on his dead weight, without any help, was something I found to be extremely difficult.
Zander's eyes were closed and I heard him moan and grunt from time to time. After almost 45 minutes, I had him changedinto cooler, dry clothing.
I waited another hour before waking him up. The soup had gotten cold so I reheated it in the microwave. Then, somehow I got him to eat half the bowl and take the medicine on his nightstand. I wasn't sure when he took his medicine last so I asked him and he said, in between bouts of coughing and sneezing, ‘this morning’.
I stayed with him that night. I tried to get some sleep but each time he coughed, sneezed, and moaned inagony, I felt the sounds pull on my heart. Caring for patients was something that I loved to do. I wanted to make them feel better. There was, however, a part of me that was somewhat disconnected from my patients. That part enabled me to care for them objectively.
With Zander, there was no such delineation. His sounds of pain and agony made me weaker. I found myself praying to God, for him. I wished that he would open his eyes and look at me as he always did– healthy, playful, strong.
I was a little girl when my mom passed away. So I didn’t remember her being in the hospital or suffering through the pain. What I remembered was my dad saying that watching her go through all the pain, made him want to tear through the walls and scream.
I felt that now. To see Zander this way, I wanted to scream and say "Stop, wake up, get better!" I knew I was probably being overdramatic. I've taken care of people with the flu and I saw them get better. However, with him, I thought of all the bad things that could happen. What if he got pneumonia? What of he developed a lung infection? What if he didn’t get better?
I felt helpless. Tired. Weak. I was used to seeing him so strong. Strong enough to tackle men who weighed twice as he did and lift me at the same time. Now, this, on the bed, covered by a soft blanket with a wash rug on his head, he looked so vulnerable while resting.
I was still staring at him, sorting through all the emotions and thoughts in my head, laying on the soft, suede cushion of thepapasanchair on the side of his bed, when I reached a moment of clarity. It was like I was on train that was traveling at 190 mph and in a second, it careened to a stop. This was as close as I could describe what I was feeling.
It became clear to me that my happiness was linked to the man sleeping peacefully across from me. Without me knowing it, his feelings were directly linked to mine. Without me realizing it, he now held the power to break my heart. It was then that I knew Iwas falling in love with him.
This realization did not settle with me. I didn't know he felt. I didn't know how he would react. I didn't know if right now was the right time to fall in love. Our relationship was great. We were happy. We were in a good place. We were on our way to great careers. What if me admitting that I was falling in love with him messed things up? What about my goals? My 3 P’s and 5 D’s? Have I really strayed so far off my path?
I never planned to fall in love. It was #7 on my list. How did one deal with falling in love? What if someone lost the person whom they fell in love with? My dad was never the same after losing my mom. He was a great dad and will always be. But, he was different. Broken. Was I ready to be broken?
I wanted to call Kieran or Nalee or Tanya. Calling them, however, would be admitting that I was in love. I was not ready to do that yet. I didn’t know if I ever will.
I fell asleep with those thoughts in my head. I didn't know if I was dreaming but sometime, during the night, I felt someone lifting me andtransferring me to the bed.
I woke up with the sounds of the water running in the shower.
My eyes were blurry from sleep, whenI heard him, "Awake, babe?"
I slowly sat up on the bed. I saw that the bed sheets were now green instead of the dark bluesheets that Zander slept in.
"Yeah," I said,"Did you change the sheets?"
His eyes were tired, "I don't want you catching what I have. My mom always changed the sheets after I was sick," he said while reaching for clothes in hiscloset.
"Great tip," I agreed,"I have to get going though."
"You got stuff to do today?" he asked, his voice sounding better andhe was not coughing anymore.
"Yup, I have to go change and run some errands," Isaid, trying to sound calm.
"Ok, call me later when you're done," he glanced at me. He looked as if he wantedto add more, but he stopped.
"Ok" I stood up, straightened my shirt as best as I can, and was about to get to the door when he reached out with his right arm and pulled me intoa hug.
