So WomBear called me on his way home from work tonight to tell me he got off the bus due to a panic attack. He was going to walk the 50 minutes home.
I was already in my robe, firmly down for the night and working on cooking supper. I was defrosting shrimp, and there were already perogies in the stove. So he asked me to stay on the line and talk to him. I didn't have much to say and he isn't a talker so I started describing the plot of Face Off to him.
The entire plot. Without knowing character names.
Apparently Nicholas Cage isn't a soothing topic because about five minutes into our conversation his voice got faint and he said he was getting dizzy, about to pass out. He asked if I could walk to meet him.
So I put my cell on speaker and got dressed and kept describing face-off. It got confusing when I screwed up "Nicholas Cage as John Travolta" and "John Travolta as Nicholas Cage". But he went with it, and even managed a laugh.
It took me another thirty minutes to meet up with him on the street and in that time I said a lot of weird things. I talked about:
-the shape of windows
-I listed every single movie I could remember that Nicholas Cage was in. This last one took up a surprising amount of time.
I felt kind of silly in my sweat pants, messy hair, and deer skin boots walking down a busy Vancouver street talking about Moonstruck. But then I saw his face light up when he saw me, and felt him breath a little easier when I slid my hand up his shirt, onto his bare back. And it didn't seem silly.
I even got him a frosty, and walked it up to our place and let the cold bite into my fingers because he wouldn't let my hand go long enough for me to switch hands. He kept apologizing over and over, but I honestly didn't care. I was just happy he had called, that he hadn't stayed on the bus and gone into a full scale panic attack. At least we live close to the hospital, but I wouldn't be up to cabbing home with him late tonight. I was happy he finally said something instead of suffering in silence. That he finally realizes having chest pains for three days in a row and being on the cusp of an attack is not normal.
So happy that he finally said he thinks medication might be a good idea.
I'm so excited he's starting to take it seriously. I'm so happy that he's not suffering alone. I'm so grateful that he trusts me enough to let me help. I've been working on a post of living with and loving someone with depression. And tonight is one of the good times, GT, one of the nights just being there for him feels so good :)