Page 62 of Where the River Meets the Skye

“Skye,” he heard, and looked up to see River standing in the doorway to their bedroom. He had tears drying on his cheeks and his hands stuffed in his pockets, and he wouldn’t meet Skye’s gaze.

“Hey, Riv,” Skye said, softly.

“I’m sorry,” River said, still crying. “I didn’t mean to get so angry. But I guess I just am, Skye. I am angry. I just…I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Hey, come here,” Skye said, and stood, and River went to him and they hugged, and River cried into his shirt. “It’s okay,” Skye said. “It’s okay for you to be angry, angel. And sad. It’s okay for you to feel whatever you feel. This sucks. I get it.”

River sniffled. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he said.

“I think I get it now, why you didn’t,” Skye said, rubbing his back. “But please, promise you won’t keep secrets from me anymore.”

River sighed. “I promise,” he said, as Skye pulled back and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Will you let me drive you to work?” Skye asked. “I really don’t like the idea of you being behind the wheel, River. It scares me.”

“Skye, I don’t…” he started. But then his eyes met Skye’s, and he nodded. “Okay,” he said, reaching over to stroke his cheek, and Skye relaxed.

“Okay,” Skye said. “And if it gets worse you are going back to the cardiologist.”

River nodded and Skye kissed him.

3 MONTHS LATER

Skye

River had gone back to the cardiologist after the palpitations hadn’t gone away, and had actually grown more frequent. He’d had them happen a couple of times at work, and had had to find a place to lie down in the middle of a session with a client before he passed out, and Skye knew he was becoming increasingly frustrated and worried about losing his job if it kept up. So far he’d been able to hide it from his boss, but he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to. If his episodes lasted longer than a minute or happened back to back he would be in trouble.

Unfortunately the cardiologist said there wasn’t much they could do other than trying a different medication. They ran all of the same tests they’d done previously over again just to make sure nothing had changed, but when those all came back the same as before, they were back to not having any answers.

River seemed to be developing new symptoms every other week that had Skye worried and confused, and River becoming more upset.

Along with the palpitations he was also having nearly constant chest pain that couldn’t be explained, along with dizziness, brain fog, nausea, lightheadedness, even when his heart wasn’t acting up, and he was exhausted all the time no matter how much sleep he got. He felt weak, and had developed an intolerance for exercise. Just being on his feet all day for work was exhausting.

His thermoregulation was off. He’d be freezing cold one minute and frying hot the next, even though the temperature in the house hadn’t changed a bit. He’d lost his appetite and Skye was more than aware of how much weight he’d lost in the last couple of months. His toned, muscular body had become frail and thin.

His body was falling apart in front of them, and neither of them knew why, or what to do, and neither it seemed, did the doctors.

They’d gotten River in to see the neurologist again, and they’d done more blood work and muscle tests, and nerve tests, but hadn’t found anything that could explain his symptoms. They visited a rheumatologist next who did not have any answers for them either and River was beside himself with grief and frustration.

Next was a colonoscopy and an endoscopy just to make sure the reason for River’s lack of appetite wasn’t anything internal or parasitic, or cancerous, and it wasn’t. And for that Skye was grateful of course, but he felt so helpless. Like his hands were tied, and all he could do was watch as his husband suffered and withered away.

Each time he took River into his arms and felt how thin he had become, he had to keep himself from crying. And he had to tell himself that he wouldn’t break River if he hugged him too tightly.

“Skye, you won’t hurt me,” River said, as they stood in the kitchen one day after coming back from an appointment with a nutritionist. They’d decided they needed to do something to get River to gain some of his weight back. He’d lost thirty pounds in two months, and Skye was really starting to worry.

Tears fell down his cheeks as he tightened his grip around River and felt his husband’s hair tickling the side of his face.

“I’m scared for you, River,” he said.

“I know,” River said. “Me, too, Skye.”

River

River did his best to force himself to eat but he couldn’t stomach food, so Skye started making him smoothies for breakfast and dinner. He would have the occasional banana or granola bar, but sometimes he wouldn’t even finish them. Other than that he survived mostly on protein shakes, because drinking was easier than eating. Still he ended up losing another five pounds.

He’d started feeling even more lightheaded and foggy, and it got considerably worse when he went from laying down to sitting or from sitting to standing. It got to the point where he would have to sit up or stand very slowly so that he didn’t risk toppling over again once he did get back on his feet, and it made him feel like a ninety year old, especially when he had to grab on to the wall or the counter or whatever other sturdy structure was nearby for support to help him walk the first few steps until he got his bearings straight. Being on his feet for any length of time at all was exhausting and only made the lightheadedness and dizziness worse.

But it wasn’t until he passed out at work that he knew he was in real trouble. And when it happened three times in one month he knew that he couldn’t keep up with the workload anymore, on top of all of his symptoms. So it wasn’t a surprise when his boss called him into his office one afternoon and with sympathy in his eyes, told him that he was being let go.

---