I Hate Mondays

*WARNING* LONG POST
So for those of you who don't know. Tony was in the hospital. He's home now, and seemingly doing better but here's the longer version:

Monday afternoon Tony had an interview for a wonderful job in Seattle. In order to make the drive a bit shorter for him we slept at his parents house on Sunday night. He woke up around 7 am did his shave and shower thing, kissed Bella and I goodbye and left. He seemed a bit sick to his stomach, but that's pretty much par for the course for Tony. Every morning like clockwork he's at least a little sick to his stomach, but I chalked most of it up to nerves, so I wasn't too awful concerned.

Round 10 am Bella and I headed over to his grandmothers place. (I call Peggy HIS grandmother, but honestly, I adopted her for my own :P) Peggy said she needed to do some shopping, so Bell, Peg and I jumped in the car and headed into town. On the way Peggy and I chatted about how excited we were for Tony, and we couldn't wait for him to come home and tell us ALL about his big interview, and celebrate! Not five minutes later Tony called me, telling me he was sick, so sick that though he left at 7:30 am he had only made it as far as Chehalis, WA. He was stopping every ten minutes or so to vomit on the side of the road. He told me he was going to try to continue on, and get to his interview.
At this point I was concerned, but skeptical. In the last week or so I had seem similar behavior from Tony, and it seemed for all intents and purposes that this was not much different. Nerves I thought. Peggy agreed. Nerves. No more than ten minutes later Tony's mother called me, and told me that he was at a rest stop somewhere in between Chehalis, and Olympia, and we needed to go pick him up. My heart fell. There was no way he was going to make it to the interview, and the dream of starting new in Seattle was flying out the window.
Peg and I gathered up our purchases, headed back to her house to drop them off, and promptly sped toward my ailing hubby. Though the drive was relevantly short, an hour, maybe an hour and a half at most, it seemed like so much longer. Thankfully the munchkin slept literally the entire trip, minus a few minutes at the beginning while her eyelids slowly fell to her cheeks. Peggy was amazing during the trip, chatting about nothing, and everything.. and I mean everything. Embarrassing baby stories about my husband were in large supply. *GRIN* And though I know that she was doing it in part to keep herself sane, I would like to think that she was trying to keep me from worrying my self into oblivion.

When we arrived at the rest stop and I saw Tony for the first time I was in shock. I have honestly NEVER seen him in that much pain before.  Ever heard the expression "green around the gills"? Tony was that expression personified.
I've seen the man up and walking around, playing with his daughter, and for the most part being himself, all while dealing with a headache that could put down a horse, but this, this was like nothing I'd ever seen from him. He was doubled over in the back seat of his Moms car (which he borrowed to go to his interview) tears streaming down him face. My eyes went wide, my heart hit the floor, and inside I was screaming with fear. I helped him to the front passenger seat, and we headed back to La Center. Peggy took Bella home with her.

About two hours later we were in the urgent care center. They gave him some shots for nausea, and pain, took some blood and sent us home with a prescription that did nothing to relieve any of his symptoms. I felt helpless. I could do nothing for him. A few frantic phone calls later, my mother (ER nurse of 20+ years) came over with some medicine for Tony. She hung around for a while giving much needed advice, then left (thanks Mommy). Tony tossed and turned for a while until the medicine kicked in and after some hot tub therapy for myself, and a nice long chat with God, I crashed out too.

The Tuesday seemed to go pretty smoothly, and while he didn't eat much more than a spoonful of this and a bit of that, he did slowly drink quite a bit of liquids, and it all seemed to be behind us. Later in the evening he began complaining of stomach pains again. Nothing too bad, and he had had such a good day so I didn't stress over it too much.

I woke up around 8 am Wednesday morning, and by 9 am he was in the bathroom retching. He refused to go the first time I told him I was taking him to the hospital. My hubby is a stubborn man. The next several minutes of debilitating stomach pain convinced him otherwise.

The rest is up on Facebook, and I just don't feel up to rehashing it again. We're home now. He's doing much better. Joking around, giving me crap, all in all being the goofy, crazy, sarcastic butt hole that I know and love.

I love you Wookie.