I see almost never go to the doctor or to the hospital.

Until I last month, when I suddenly did.

I had been asleep for a few hours when I awoke with a pounding heart. It was a uncomfortable, but I wasn’t too worried.

At first.

I got up and went into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly so as not to wake up my husband. I put the light on and waited in vain for it to stop. The pounding continued, twice as fast as my heart should be beating. I took some deep breaths, trying to be calm, still waiting for it to stop.

It didn’t.

Eventually, I realized that I needed help. I woke up my husband.

The last time I had to wake my husband up in the middle of the night to take me to the hospital was when I was pregnant with my second child and my water broke. This occasion wasn’t anything as great as that, but my husband was every bit as heroic.

Me: “Bill, wake up. I have to go to the hospital.” 

Him: “Okay, let’s go.”

We were in the car. My heart was still pounding double time. Being a nurse, I knew all of the things that could be causing it and I was trying hard not to think about any of them. Suddenly, I had a feeling of peace. I realized that, if this was it, that I had done okay. I could go. There were some things that I wished were different, but that was okay, too. I had an overwhelming urge to tell my husband.

Me: “Hey, Bill, if anything happens, I’m okay with it. Whatever happens, happens. We did great, didn’t we? The best we could. I love you so much. Thank you for everything, for all of it.”

Him: “Okay, but you’re not going anywhere”

And as usual, he was right.