This One Goes Out to the Bug I Love

I was finishing things up at work and getting ready to head home when my cell rang. LoveBug, who is in Dallas, TX for a business trip, greeted me with a tired, crackling voice. As I'm shoving things in my purse and shutting down my computer, I hear him say something about having a three hour break from his meeting...went to the mall...ice skating rink...emergency room.

I tell him that's not funny.

He says he's serious. He broke his leg in several places and he's in the emergency room at Medical City Hospital.

Then he calls me back to tell me that they're admitting him so they can take him into surgery as soon as he's stable. They have to put a titanium plate in his leg.

He's in Texas.
I'm in Florida.

Do you see the problem here?

I called my sister, who agreed to bring my mom over to stay with the kids.
I stocked ran to the grocery store and stocked the pantry and fridge with plenty of food.
I called both my professors and told them I wouldn't be in class this week.
I called my office and left word that I'd be out until Monday.
I looked for last minute flights to Dallas.
They were outrageous.

With much crying and gnashing, LoveBug and I decided that it's best if I stay here in Florida and hold down the fort for him.

But shouldn't I BE there? Shouldn't I spend a couple grand and fly over to hold his hand? Shouldn't I be there when they're setting his splint and he's screaming in pain? Shouldn't I?

I feel like someone took a vacuum and shoved it through my chest, sucking out my soul and leaving my physical body drained.

He's not my better half -- he's my whole. And right now he's still in the ER, still waiting for a room to become available. And he hurts. And I can't do a damned thing but cry.

This is Funky, and this beyond sucks.