So my husband was in the ER the other day for abdominal pain. This is bad, y'all. When he was 17 (16 years ago) he had to have emergency surgery to remove an intestinal blockage that turned out to be a growth that somehow had gangrene. Anyway, he had surgery that removed 0ver 8ft of his intestines, and if they had waited any longer he would've died. I get a call during class that he's in the ER, and I immediately start thinking the worst. The ER said that it was nothing life-threatening and to go to a GI and sent him home with all the drugs. The doctor said he didn't know, but it could be just an ulcer or something like crohn's or ulcerative colitis or it could be something like what happened the first time, considering the pain is originating from where he had surgery. Won't know anything until he has a colonoscopy.
I'm just scared. When the doctor said Crohn's, my heart dropped a little. I have Crohn's and most of the time it's manageable. But he's much older than I am, and my grandfather died of Crohn's. I never saw my father much, but his parents would sometimes take me for weekends. I never cared for my grandma, but I loved my grandpa. We would play dominoes and drink cokes and he would help me name all the outdoor kitties on their farm. He died when I was 7 due to Crohn's, and nobody thought to tell me until 2 weeks later. He was 62, which isn't necessarily young, but I'm still scared. I'm not scared for myself, but I don't want my husband to have Crohn's. I know it's not a death sentence, and I know what I signed up for marrying a man almost 12 years older, but I'm still scared.
On a different note, the treatment I've been given in the hospital and at the GP's office were...interesting to say the least. We've been married for a year, but our age difference usually isn't mentioned/noticed. I was asked several times by different staff if I was his kid sister or his daughter. Granted, I wasn't wearing a lot of make-up and wearing a pair of comic book print sweatpants, but still. They looked shocked whenever I said I was his wife and looked at me like I was some sort of child bride. Maybe I'm offended for no reason, but wouldn't the polite thing be to ask what relation I am to him instead of exclaiming, " Oh look! How sweet is it that your daughter is here!"
I'm just overly stressed. I feel like I can't stop. He's in bed and is out of his fucking mind stoned on painkillers and I have to take care of him, work, clean the house, cook, and try to keep up with my classes I missed.
But on a positive note, I dyed my hair a honey-blonde color and I LOVE it. It's the little things, right?