Sunday afternoon I was out in Auburn hiking with my best friend and her husband and all of our dogs. They have 3 Huskies (seen below on the left) and I have a Husky that is the offspring of one of their dogs and then I adopted a lab/pitt bull mix (seen below on the right). It was beautiful weather, perfect for hiking. We hiked about 6 miles round trip and always go down this steep trail where we can let them off leash and they get to play in the water. They all love it and it gives us a chance to exercise and relax.
Right before the steep decline to the water, my ex kept calling me and I wouldn’t answer. Finally I did. He was calling me because he had been in an accident and was in the ICU. He crashed his motorcycle. Drunk driving. His BAC was .191. Both of his femurs were broken, he had torn ligaments in his pelvis, road rash, fractured C3 in his neck, and hairline fractures on his ribs. I was pissed. He kept asking me, ‘what do I do? what do I do?’ I told him I had zero sympathy for him and asked if he had called his family and he replied no and begged me not to call them. He would continue calling me and I would answer or decline it. We headed back to the cars and I called him to see if he had called family and thankfully his cousin answered the phone, we chatted briefly and that was that. I spent the rest of the day with my best friend and her hubby. We took the boat out to Folsom Lake and went swimming for a little bit. We got back to their house around 9pm and on my way home, that’s when it really hit me what happened and this wave of sympathy and emotion overtook me. I started crying. Fast forward and I was at home, rushing to pack a bag and head to the Trauma Center he was at. Google maps said it would take an hour and a half. I made it in an hour. Sure enough, he was in the ICU with a neck brace on, legs covered in bandages, and a metal halo drilled into his body around his waist to stabilize his pelvis and limit his movement. I lost it. Now, if you’ve read some of my other posts, I bet you’re confused as to why the fuck I drove to see him. Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t feel stupid but on the outside looking in, it’s extremely stupid. But, I just couldn’t bring myself to turn my back on him when he needed it. Just because he’s been a constant shitty, smooth talking, cheating asshole of a person, I didn’t have it in me to treat him the same way. Of course his family was quite surprised I showed up, I’m sure even he was surprised I showed up. I spent the next week with him at the Trauma Center aiding the nurses that were assigned to him. I was uncomfortable as hell trying to sleep in his room, checking on him constantly. Moving his legs, carefully, so that he wouldn’t get blood clots, helping to turn him when they needed to change his dressings or sheets because he had bled through the bandages. I was in the room when they gave him an enema because he hadn’t had a bowel movement for 4 days and his stomach was rock hard. I sat with him as he cried from the pain and would start crying even more because of the regret. “Why did I have to drink and drive”? that’s what he kept saying to himself.
His accident was Sunday, September 30th and he doesn’t remember any of it. He doesn’t remember where he was at, how the accident happened, nothing. The Orthopedic Surgeon said it appeared as if he put his legs down to brace for impact, like he knew what was coming. He also said that he is one of the luckiest people they’ve ever seen in a motorcycle accident. He had surgery on October 2 and was transferred to Kaiser on October 4th. I spent the entire stay at Kaiser with him as well. I didn’t feel obligated to. Maybe it was a control thing. I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I had no problem being there to help him. Honestly, I’m glad I did because there were a few times he was neglected. Friday I hadn’t seen his nurse for over 5 hours and he wasn’t even given pain medication for almost 12 hours. Saturday morning he had to be given huge doses of medication in order to accommodate his pain. Saturday night was even worse. I was exhausted and had very little conversations with ppl other than those at the hospital, him when he was awake, and whoever would visit. It was really starting to wear me down and it came to a point where he really needed to use the bathroom, #2. I called for his nurse and and no one showed up. He had to use the bathroom so bad that I ended up having to roll him over and slide a bed pan underneath him by myself. He was in excruciating pain and it got worse when he was finally done pooping. Once again, I called for a nurse, mind you, it’s been about 30 minutes now and there’s no sign of a nurse. His stool was not hard. They loaded him up on laxatives to keep him from being constipated. Obviously, it’s not comfortable sitting in bed on top of a bed pan, with shit hanging from your ass because you can’t even wipe yourself. Sorry to be so graphic but an image needs to be painted here. Never in my life would I have ever guessed that I would be wiping my own ex boyfriends ass. I could seriously Tyler Perry the fuck out of him at this point. Picture for reference and if you don’t know, then you need to know. lol
That was the constant joke because he has to completely rely on other ppl right now. His nurse didn’t show up for 45 minutes and I completely lost it because I was so exhausted. I’m not an RN, BSN, CNA, PCT…..not even a caregiver and here I was caring for my ex boyfriend. He was in so much pain because I had to roll him over onto his side to the leg that wasn’t as fucked up as his other one. I was putting pressure on his legs because I had to wipe him and he started crying from the pain because I could barely manage to do it by myself and it started making me cry. I have slipped discs so that shit hurt me. After I was done, I marched my sobbing ass to the nurse’s station and started yelling at how that was completely unacceptable. “I called for a nurse 45 minutes ago, it’s not my job to do that type of shit, and he’s in excruciating pain.” I was so upset. Primarily because I was just so dam tired from both of us not getting sleep the night before. I was told that if nurses or anyone reads his chart and finds out that he was drunk driving, they WILL treat you differently and they don’t have any sympathy for you. He put everyone at risk, for what? A good time?
Fast forward, he got discharged on Sunday. I stuck around long enough to kind of guide those that would be taking care of him and came back home Sunday night. I don’t regret being there for him and I would do it again. I know it completely helped him to be there for him and of course the question people say, ‘what about you? Whose taking care of you?’ Thankfully, his cousin was an amazing support system for me and we had lengthy talks about how no one could do what I have done for him. His mom, aunt, grandma, other cousins he has through marriage, have all thanked me. And to be honest, I think all he’s done is apologize to me. I’m not sure why. There’s no reason he should apologize to me about it. He did it to himself. He’ll be down for about 6 months, in the neck brace for 3 months, and physical therapy for however long it’s needed.
Just because someone is shitty to me does not mean I’ll ever be shitty back to them. Ya, I still love him. But I don’t trust him. Nor do I think he’ll learn from this. I feel like I could give him another chance and he’d still fuck me over. So, whose lesson to learn is this really? Mine…..or his?