Growing Old With You (Part of Those Three Little Words threequel)

Part 11

14th February 1999
Brian's POV
"Take these and try them... take-take them. Make you... feel" the doctor's voice spun around in my head as I took my tablets from the nurse and took them with the glass of water I was given. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow" she smiled and I smiled as best I could, already feeling sick, as she moved on to whoever was next to me.

I toddled on back to bed to brush my hair and freshen up but ended up laying on the bed with the room spinning around me and my stomach threatening to throw up all of my lunch. "Oh god... no, no!" I shouted as I felt my stomach churn but my body didn't move quickly enough and I just threw up all over myself.

When I'd actually sat up, my head spun and almost had me down on the floor so I just let out a shout and the nurse came running in. "Oh my god... oh sweet, come on. Can you get up?" She asked and I just looked at her which was enough to make me go tumbling off the bed and onto the floor, throwing up again.

I heard her run out and when she came back, there was two of her, "Brian, we're going to get you out of here and let you see the doctor, okay?" One of them asked and I could only let out a groan to give my consent. They both picked me up and carried me across their shoulders to a completely white room and had me lay on the bed.

A male nurse came in after what felt like ages of spinning around and helped me get the dirty clothes off, finding me a nice dressing gown, and tied my hair back for me. "Brian, can you tell me what's going on?" He asked and I went to look at him but the world must have dropped because I felt like I was falling.

I just shut my eyes and put my head back on the pillow, "really... really dizzy" I said and felt his hand on my forehead then it suddenly got very cold. "Alright Brian, just lay there, I've put some ice on your forehead. Have you taken anything today?" He asked and I groaned as a yes, "depress-anti... anti-depressants" I stumbled over my words, distracted by the feeling of falling again.

"Oh right... okay, stay there and rest and I'll get something sorted for you" he said and I tried to thank him but my words didn't come out right so I just put my hand up. He came back after ages of waiting and I felt someone touch my arm so I opened my eyes, seeing a nurse hovering over me.

To put a long story short, they sent me back to bed saying it was normal to feel bad on the first day but I knew something wasn't right. Even in the shitty state I was in, I knew something was wrong.

For the next week ther gave me these tablets and I couldn't keep down any food or drink, they even tried tube-feeding me but it all kept coming back up no matter what they tried. They had to wean me off of the tablets so it took a whole week before I could finally eat proper food and not throw it back up.

I had to write to tell my family about it all, like I'd promised, to tell Roger everything that had happened and remind him to never let a doctor suggest antidepressants again. Amy had gone home already to her family but she had sent me a few letters that I hadn't had time to read so far.

My dear Brian,
I finally got out of hell! Thank god. I didn't want to leave you there, though, that was the worst part. I hope you're better by now as the last time I saw you, you were very spaced out and I don't think you remember what happened. I do and I hope you're feeling better now, I know how it is to feel that bad and I would never want anyone else to have to deal with that.

Anyway, I'm proud to announce that I'm home safely and have spent the last two days with my kids and my husband and life has never been so good. I know what you meant now by the small moments mean the most, I've appreciated the little things much more thanks to you.

To wrap this up, I just wanted to thank you for being there for me and I hope your recovery goes by quickly. When you get out, I'd love to meet up again and you'll always be welcome in our home.

Please write soon, lots of love from Amy xx

I pulled a photo out of the envelope and it was of her with her kids looking happier than I'd ever seen her, she was absolutely glowing with happiness and pride. It was so nice to see that she was happy and I even blu-tacked the picture up on my board to remember her, I hoped it would be able to help me on hard days.

I looked at all the other pictures of Roger, the kids, my Mum and the cats and found strength in all of them, it felt like they were all willing me to stay strong and I believed that was what helped me through this week of hell. I guessed having Amy there would help even more.

It did help me to get through writing a letter back to her to tell her what had gone on but for the most part, it was just nice to look at to feel less alone. Even with all these people around me, helping me, I felt so alone after they wouldn't help me and forced me to take those tablets that were making me ill. It was like they thought I was a liar and a fake and that made me feel worse than when I'd come in here.

That did wear off over the next few days, however, when my doctor allowed me extra one-to-one talking time and the nurses would check in on me a little more than they had before. It made me feel like people actually cared about me and how I felt which was nice, I hadn't had that much in my life.

Well, except for when I met Roger, he cared about me so much that it would embarrass me sometimes with him asking if I was alright. The worst was when he would notice I wasn't okay and snuggle himself under my arm or hold me in public, it was nice but it embarrassed the hell out of me.

I wouldn't trade it for anything, though. That's why I love him so much. He genuinely cares about me and how I'm doing and he was the first to ever do that.

Even thinking about being at home with him was threatening to make me cry so I wrote a letter to him telling him about how I felt, just like my therapist had told me to do. She told me to write it down but I liked writing a letter more, it felt like there was a purpose in writing down my feelings.

I did wonder what Roger was doing right now, though. Knowing him, he would probably be sleeping or having to wrangle the kids to school. I could imagine him sleeping, he was so cute when he slept unless he was having a bad dream, then he would kick and punch out and that wasn't fun for anyone, especially him because he would sometimes wake up in the morning with bruises on his hands.

I remembered the first time it happened when we were sleeping together, I thought he'd gone out and had a fight in his sleep and he even believed me. Turns out he just accidentally hit the bedside cabinet and I didn't even tell him when I found out, he only found out because Jim mentioned it.

He told me he was tempted to sleep in handcuffs so he couldn't punch anything but soon realised he could break something and he wouldn't be able to handle it since he liked to hold onto me.

That was what I couldn't wait for, being snuggled up with my husband in a warm and cosy bed and being able to see his cute sleeping face. It wouldn't really be cute to anyone else because he dribbles so much and his snoring is quite loud but to me, it's just perfect.

I tried to imagine him next to me when I tried to sleep but a pillow wasn't a very good substitute. Nothing will ever get close to how soothing it is to hold him.