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Today hubby and I worked in the house, trying to get stuff out of it to sell. We had oatmeal for breakfast and then headed over. Did I mention he had a tooth out yesterday? After lots of sweating, furniture moving and a shower for each of us, we went to Taco Bell. He had a sweetened iced tea, I had a Diet Mt Dew. We waited for our food...and waited-this is Taco Bell, after all.
Suddenly he starts swiping his hands across his face; "I'm not feeling so good," he tells me. Now I'm fretting, looking at the counter and at him, mentally telling the Taco Bell idiots to get their asses in gear and give us our damn food. I turn back to him, his arms go slack and he's only just supporting himself on them, sitting there at the table. And then his eyes kind of roll to the side and he starts listing. I'm calling to him; "Mark, Mark!" Not loud and with this weird sort of calm (I've always thought that if someone ever had any type of episode in front of me, I'd be freaking out.) I got up, wrapped my arms around his shoulders, still talking gently to him, looking up at the counter; "where's our food?" and just trying to keep him from falling to the floor. After several seconds he sort of shook out of it and steadied in his seat. Our food was at the counter (idiots didn't even come over, just looked at us curiously, like what? I'm fucking hugging him in Taco fucking Bell?) Made sure he wouldn't pitch over, got the food and sat back down, watching him.
After a moment he got up and went to the men's room, came back looking much better. He ate his food, had to be convinced that yes, he'd just passed out and that yes, I was a hairsbreath from calling an ambulance.
He was fine after he ate. Although I made him come straight home and rest the remainder of the day. Also made chicken soup with lots of meat and veggies. He ate two bowls.
So much for him bouncing right back after having a tooth pulled. I'm kicking him and myself. I'm not his mommy, but I could have been firmer, I suppose. Putting my foot down tomorrow. Nothing strenuous. And eggs, not just oatmeal for breakfast.
Suddenly he starts swiping his hands across his face; "I'm not feeling so good," he tells me. Now I'm fretting, looking at the counter and at him, mentally telling the Taco Bell idiots to get their asses in gear and give us our damn food. I turn back to him, his arms go slack and he's only just supporting himself on them, sitting there at the table. And then his eyes kind of roll to the side and he starts listing. I'm calling to him; "Mark, Mark!" Not loud and with this weird sort of calm (I've always thought that if someone ever had any type of episode in front of me, I'd be freaking out.) I got up, wrapped my arms around his shoulders, still talking gently to him, looking up at the counter; "where's our food?" and just trying to keep him from falling to the floor. After several seconds he sort of shook out of it and steadied in his seat. Our food was at the counter (idiots didn't even come over, just looked at us curiously, like what? I'm fucking hugging him in Taco fucking Bell?) Made sure he wouldn't pitch over, got the food and sat back down, watching him.
After a moment he got up and went to the men's room, came back looking much better. He ate his food, had to be convinced that yes, he'd just passed out and that yes, I was a hairsbreath from calling an ambulance.
He was fine after he ate. Although I made him come straight home and rest the remainder of the day. Also made chicken soup with lots of meat and veggies. He ate two bowls.
So much for him bouncing right back after having a tooth pulled. I'm kicking him and myself. I'm not his mommy, but I could have been firmer, I suppose. Putting my foot down tomorrow. Nothing strenuous. And eggs, not just oatmeal for breakfast.
