By then, I had run out of things to say.
Not because I had stopped worrying.
I was more frightened than I wanted to admit.
But every reassuring sentence had begun to sound the same.
"I'm here."
"You're not alone."
"Just rest."
I had said them so often that I wondered whether Maggie was tired of hearing my voice.
I knew she wasn't able to answer.
I knew that didn't mean she wasn't listening.
But I was afraid of asking too much from her.
So I stayed quiet.
Her hand rested inside mine.
The paramedic continued watching her.
I could hear the movement of the ambulance.
I could hear the siren outside.
Those sounds had been with us throughout the ride.
At first, they had made everything feel urgent and frightening.
Now they had become part of the place where I sat waiting.
I didn't like that.
I didn't want to become accustomed to seeing my wife on a stretcher.
I didn't want the oxygen mask to look normal.
I didn't want to stop noticing how weak she was.
So I kept looking at her.
I watched the way her eyelids rested.
I watched the faint movement of her fingers.
I watched the mask as she breathed.
There wasn't much else I could do.
The paramedic glanced toward me.
"How are you holding up?"
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I hadn't expected him to ask.
I looked down at my hands.
"I'm all right."
The lie came out automatically.
He didn't challenge it.
I looked at Maggie.
"No, I'm not."
My voice was quiet.
"I'm worried about her."
He nodded.
"That's understandable."
I swallowed.
"She's never looked this weak to me."
He continued listening.
"I keep thinking about how long she's been sick."
I looked toward the floor.
"Three days. Maybe four."
I shook my head.
"I should be able to tell you more."
The paramedic spoke calmly.
"Tell the hospital team what you know. That's helpful."
I nodded.
I appreciated that he didn't promise everything would be fine.
I didn't think I could have believed him if he had.
I wanted comfort.
But I also wanted the truth.
And the truth was that Maggie needed medical care.
That was why we were in the ambulance.
That was why the paramedic kept checking her.
That was why I was holding her hand while someone else watched the equipment.
I looked at her again.
She was still my wife.
That thought kept returning.
It may sound strange, but seeing her so helpless made me cling to ordinary details.
The shape of her fingers.
The ring on her hand.
The way her hair rested beside her face.
These were things I recognized.
They helped me remember that the woman on the stretcher was the same person who had shared my life.
I wasn't looking at a stranger.
I was looking at Maggie.
And I loved her.
There was nothing complicated about that.
The complications were everywhere else.
What had made her sick?
How serious was it?
How much did the passing time matter?
Would the doctors be able to help her?
I couldn't answer those questions.
I couldn't even ask Maggie without exhausting her.
So I kept holding her hand.
The paramedic leaned toward her again.
"Maggie, can you open your eyes for me?"
Her eyelids lifted.
He spoke to her gently.
"Thank you."
She looked in his direction.
Then her eyes moved toward me.
I leaned forward.
"Hello."
I smiled a little.
She held my gaze.
I didn't ask anything.
I didn't tell her to be strong.
I didn't tell her she was doing fine.
I just stayed close.
Her eyes closed after a few seconds.
I remained beside her.
There was something peaceful about that moment, even with everything happening around us.
Not peaceful because I believed the danger had passed.
I didn't.
It was peaceful because I had finally stopped demanding an answer from every small movement.
Maggie didn't need to reassure me.
She didn't need to explain herself.
She didn't need to tell me that everything would be all right.
She needed to be cared for.
And she needed to rest.
I could give her room to do that.
The paramedic continued working.
I watched him check her condition again.
This time, I didn't lean over his shoulder.
I moved aside and let him work.
When he finished, I asked one question.
"Is there anything you need from me?"
"Just stay seated and let us know if you notice any change."
I nodded.
"All right."
I could do that.
I looked at Maggie.
I knew what she normally looked like when she was resting.
I knew the familiar shape of her face.
I knew how her fingers usually moved against mine.
I wasn't a medical professional.
But I knew my wife.
And I could pay attention.
I settled into the seat.
The ambulance continued toward the hospital.
I wondered what would happen when we arrived.
There would be more people.
More questions.
More equipment.
Perhaps someone would finally tell me what was happening.
I wanted that badly.
But I reminded myself that answers might not come immediately.
The important thing was that Maggie would receive the care she needed.
I looked at her wedding ring again.
I remembered how naturally our hands had found each other over the years.
I had never needed to think about the movement.
I would reach.
She would reach back.
Sometimes one of us was distracted.
Sometimes one of us was talking.
It didn't matter.
Our hands found each other anyway.
Now I was the one doing most of the holding.
Her fingers rested quietly in mine.
I didn't know whether she had the strength to squeeze them.
I wasn't going to ask her to try.
I rubbed my thumb across her knuckles.
The same small circle I had been making since the ride began.
It was a habit older than this frightening day.
I hoped she recognized it.
I hoped it told her something my words no longer seemed able to say.
Maggie's eyes opened once more.
I moved closer.
She looked at me.
I could see how difficult it was for her to remain awake.
So I didn't try to keep her looking at me.
I smiled.
Then I whispered, "I love you."
Her eyes stayed on mine for another moment.
I didn't expect her to speak.
I didn't ask for a squeeze of her hand.
I didn't need her to prove she had heard me.
I simply wanted those words to reach her.
Then her eyes closed.
I sat back and continued holding her hand.
The paramedic checked her again.
The siren sounded beyond the ambulance walls.
The vehicle carried us closer to the people who might be able to tell us what was wrong.
I still didn't know what had happened during those missing days.
I still couldn't explain why Maggie had become so weak.
I still had no idea what the doctors would find.
Those questions remained exactly where they had been.
But I had stopped trying to solve them while she struggled to stay awake.
There would be time for questions when someone could answer them.
For now, I had one responsibility I understood.
Stay beside her.
Let the paramedic work.
Tell the medical team what I knew.
And make sure that whenever Maggie opened her eyes, she saw a familiar face.
I looked down at our hands.
Her ring rested against my finger.
I traced the small circle over her knuckles again.
Then I watched her breathe as the ambulance continued toward the hospital.
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: As the Ambulance Carried Maggie Toward the Hospital, I Began to Understand That Her Silence Was Not Something I Could Fix
I Rode Beside My Wife in the Ambulance, Knowing She Had Been Seriously Ill for Days Without Me Understanding Why
Part 8 of 20
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