Last night, Ryan dropped a glass onto the floor and it shattered. As he reached over to the pantry to get the broom and dustpan, I tried to carefully spin around to sit on the counter. I felt a little tingle in my big toe but thought nothing of it. I watched as Ryan swept the entire kitchen floor and even into the dining room. The tingle in my toe began to irritate me. As I turned to look at my toe, I saw smeared blood down the inside of my sole as a red fluid continued to pool around the source.
“Oh, no… I did step on a piece of glass,” I said. Ryan continued to sweep as he apologized profusely. “Not your fault,” I told him.
A few minutes later, with a piercing needle and a tweezer, I was able to remove the piece of glass. It continued to bleed as I covered the cut with a tiny circle Band-Aid. It was the only size I had.
As we were getting ready for bed, I held up my foot to Ryan and said, “I could have died!”
“I know, I know…you could have died,” he played along.
“I lost so much blood!”
He pulled me onto the bed and I lay my head on his chest. “Yes, V, you lost a lot of blood.”
“I may need to go to the Red Cross. In case I pass out, do you know my blood type?”
He made a letter V with his index and middle fingers, placed them over my eyelids and made a pulling down motion, as if he were shutting the eyes of a corpse. “Shh, ssh. It’s okay.” I laughed as I pushed his hand off my face. “It’s okay to let go, V. LET. GO,” he said as he pinched my nostrils together while cupping his palm over my mouth. I laughed even harder as I pushed his hand away yet again. “Shhhhhhhh..shhhh,” he said as he put a pillow over my face. “Be free from the pain. Walk to the light, V. Walk to the light!”
The next afternoon in the car, I told him I was having trouble walking at work because of my injury. I also asked if he thought maybe amputation would help with the pain. He laughed and suggested pulling over to a the cemetery we happened to be driving passed and physically kicking me out of the vehicle. Literally, kick me out with his shoe in my back. He made me visualize that I would grab the window of the car and hang on as he tried to drive off, yelling, “Stop Ryan, stop!”
He said he would yell back to me, “It’s okay baby, don’t hold on, go to the light! Don’t worry I will come back on every anniversary and birthday. Don’t fight it.”