Page 114 of Rainstorm

My clothes are still wet, but I don’t notice. The cold comes from within, eating at me, chilling me to the bone.

My mind is a whirlwind of confusion. I love my husband. I truly do. But I also hate him.

These thoughts have been playing on repeat while I’ve been restlessly pacing in the hospital waiting room, a place that smells of disinfectant and anguish. I really need someone to tell me what’s going on. They brought Chase here what seems like hours ago and so far, no one has given me an update about his condition.

I hadn’t even had a chance to process the news about his diagnosis before I saw him lying injured on the road after throwing himself into the path of the taxi to save me.

He did it to save me and I love him for that.

He did it to save me and I hate him for that.

I was so preoccupied, I didn’t even see the green light or the taxi approaching when I stepped out.

Chase already has enough health problems without this accident complicating things for him even more.

What if he doesn’t make it?

Oh my God!

Before he finally came clean and told me about his shocking diagnosis, I’d been about to tell him I was ready to move on from our marriage, to start afresh without him playing any part in my life.

Then he’d dropped his bombshell, and his erratic behavior finally started to make sense, the pieces began to fall into place. He was acting out of some kind of misguided protectiveness by not telling me of his diagnosis, which made me so fucking mad!

Did he honestly think I was that weak and shallow? It really hurt to think he considered himself such a macho man that he couldn’t lean on me, that he thought I was so pathetic I’d break under the strain or something.

Surely I’d be stupid to continue in a marriage that only held together in good times? What kind of a poor excuse for a relationship would that be?

Despite all these thoughts, I know that one thing will never change.

I love Chase and I always will.

But I’m still so fucking mad at him, while at the same time I’m worried sick about what’s going on at the end of this long hall. Thank God I’m still officially his next of kin, so I could sign all the paperwork, giving them permission to do whatever needs to be done without delay. I have no nails left to bite and there’s still no word from anyone.

It’s a terrible nightmare.

I sympathize now with what my mom went through when my dad was having his angioplasty a couple years ago. It’s like being thrown in a centrifuge machine to blend your bones, then going on to run a marathon.

“Family of Chase Holland?” A woman in scrubs appears in the doorway.

“I’m his wife,” I reply immediately. Yes, I’m still his wife, despite everything. For however long that is.

“I’m Doctor Webster, the neurologist–let's take a seat. I’m pleased to say that your husband is now in stable condition. Mr. Holland has concussion, a couple of cracked ribs and a sprained wrist. We called the orthopedist into the trauma room, so those injuries have been taken care of.” She hesitates before continuing—does this mean bad news? “But there’s something that concerns us, that’s the reason they called me. Mr. Holland has some motor and sensitivity issues in his legs, so we needed to go forward and investigate further. In his scans, we discovered a malformed blood vessel was compressing his spine, and we don’t know whether it had been diagnosed before your husband’s accident, if he was aware of it at all.” I barely have time to nod before the doctor continues. “Do you have his doctor’s details? We need to discuss his case and also find out what medication he’s on—has he been taking steroids at all?”

“I can give you his doctor’s name, but I’m afraid I don’t know about his medication. He’d only just told me today about being diagnosed with ALS.” It’s hard saying those words. “He did say he’s been having some mobility issues, so I think that was probably a factor in the accident, he couldn’t move out of the way quickly enough.”

“Well, Mrs. Holland, we’ll need to look at your husband’s clinical history, but I’m pretty confident his mobility issues are being caused by this malformed vessel, rather than ALS. Did he suspend his meds?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.” The doctor regards me carefully but makes no comment. I’m feeling really stupid right now. What kind of wife doesn’t know the details about her husband’s health?

“We’ve been having some issues, so my husband hasn’t been confiding in me.” This sounds so lame. I’m really embarrassed and ashamed to be coming across as such an uncaring bitch when it was not my choice to be kept in the dark. “Look, please just tell me more about what happens next. I really need to call my mother-in-law, but I didn’t want to make the call until I had more information.”

The doctor sighs and scratches her forehead before continuing.

“As I said, we’ll need to carry out further tests and investigations. I’ve paged a neurosurgeon who specializes in spine conditions, and he’s on his way. So, we should hopefully know more in a couple of hours.”

With nothing more to be done for now, she leaves me standing there lost, with so many unanswered questions, so much anguish and uncertainty. All this has come out of the blue and I’m still in shock, trying to get my head around it. I’d imagined that after the divorce, at least Chase would be alive and healthy, even if he ended up with someone else. Hard as that was, I’d never for one minute contemplated a far worse scenario, one where he was seriously ill or even dead. It’s blow after blow, as if I’ve had dynamite placed over my body and it’s being slowly detonated.

I think hard before calling Nora, my mother-in-law, and in the end decide to get my mother involved, ask her to bring Nora to San Diego. Chase may not be my mother’s favorite person right now, but she and Nora have always had a great relationship and knowing how upset his mom is going to be, especially without her husband to support her, I know she’d drive like a woman possessed to get to her beloved son, and I don’t want to risk another person ending up in the hospital.

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