This is a long story, but hopefully this will explain to you all why I haven't been posting very often lately....

Yesterday, I was having a "feel sorry for myself" day - Not that I had any reason to, but I was annoyed, agitated, and had to get out of the house. So, I went down to Starbucks, got my usual, and went grocery shopping. Last night, as I was preparing to jump into bed, I noticed my husband looking at me. He then said, "How different would your life be today if I hadn't gone to the emergency room on Valentine's Day?" I laughed, made a few jokes, and went to sleep. Unfortunately it all hit me as I was standing in the shower this morning.

About a week before we left for Banff, Vaughn starting getting sick...He went to his Doctor numerous times, and by the Thursday, he was in emergency, and by that afternoon, he was in ICU with a million tubes and cords attached to him. The doctors assumed that there was something weird going on with his heart. But, after two days, the tests came back negative and he was released - Not because he was really feeling any better, but because they had no idea what was up with him.

So, a week later, we headed to Banff and he was still feeling sick. By this time, we had both assumed that it was a really bad flu. Poor guy, he did his best to keep his spirits up for my sake. You see, I'm a "go, go, go" type of person, and I get severely annoyed if anyone can't keep up with me. So, I hate to admit it, but I did act like a spoiled brat at times. We got through the week, but on our last day, the pains in his chest were driving him crazy. We had intended on staying in Edmonton on that last day, but drove the whole way home. The next morning, he woke me up to tell me that he was going back to the hospital. He kissed me goodbye and I went back to sleep. He arrived back home later that day and let me know that he was told that he had pneumonia - he was given antibiotics and sent home, as there weren't any beds free for him to be admitted.

The days went by, and he wasn't feeling any better.. His prescription had run out, and by this time he was sicker than he was to begin with. He would come home from work and go straight to bed. Believe me when I say I tried so hard to be supportive, but I couldn't understand what was going on. He was having trouble breathing, and the pain had started to shift up to his shoulder. The morning of Valentine's Day, he looked at me and asked if we could celebrate when he was feeling better - "It's not Valentine's Day today....It will be Valentine's when I can feel well enough to share it with you". Okay, okay, I'll admit it - I sulked a bit, but did tell him that it was fine. The day could wait.

He came home from work that night and told me he had to go back to the hospital - his was in severe pain, and upon notice, his entire left arm wasn't even the same color as his right. Because I had already ordered dinner for the family, I drove him down and came back home. I got in my jammies and spent Valentine's with the kids. By 8:00pm, I put on my coat and jumped in the car and went down. He looked up at me, as I'm wearing red flannel jammies, my uggs and a winter coat, and said, "You didn't have to come". All I could say was, "It's Valentine's Day. If I have to spend it at the hospital, that's fine, but we should be spending it together".

Within 20 minutes, I become stir crazy, so I proceed to go through drawers in the little room. In no time, I'm wearing latex gloves, a surgical mask, covered in band-aids with a tongue depressor in my hand. I look at Vaughn - "Say aah". He rolls his eyes, "I'm not saying aah". I flashed him. He said "aah".... They ran a million tests, gave him pain killers, but nothing was working. I tried to keep his spirits up, but with my attention span of a 5 year old, I quickly became bored again. So I played 'Bejeweled' on my cell phone, downloaded some new ringtones, read magazines, and then as Vaughn started to doze I noticed some really fun stuff in one of the clear drawers...Lube & giant bandages. I quietly start to open the drawer, and wouldn't you know it - The entire thing went crashing to the floor, the handle smashed into a million pieces and Vaughn looked at me - "I've been at this hospital a million times and never touched a thing. You've been here for about an hour, and you're already beating things up. How old are you???" This sent me into a fit of laughter.

At about 10:30, a nurse came in and told us that they had found something unusual in his tests and were calling in a specialist to examine him. I had to leave, as Adam had school in the morning and I had to work, and I had to get lunches made and clothes ironed, so I told Vaughn to call me and I'd come back to get him. At 1:45 am he called. After examination, the specialist looked at him and said, "You are one lucky man for coming in here tonight." They found a blood clot on his lung. The reason the pain was spreading was because the clot had started to move. He was informed that if it had made it's way to his heart, he wouldn't have lasted 60 seconds.

I am so grateful for this man for finding this... I shudder to think that I could have been a widow at 39.

Things are starting to get back to normal around here, but after this all hit me this morning, I've come to the realization that I have to stop taking things for granted - I have to appreciate every second and not get pissed off at the small things. After my shower, I sat on the bed and held him and for the first time, cried. I'm famous for blocking things out of my head, and even more famous for living in denial. Never again.

Have a great day, everyone. Peace.