- walking into hubby's hospital room and realizing from how he looked and from the monitor above him that he has gone back into atrial fibrillation (uncontrolled rapid heart beats)?
- hearing from his cardiologist that he needed two electric shocks before hubby's heart responded and reverted to normal heart rate?
- finding that on top of all the above, or because of all the above he now has myocarditis, which is an inflammation of the heart muscle?
- discovering that a stupid kidney stone decided that this was a perfect time to move and cause him severe pain?
No, I think that the most scary moments were actually after he left the hospital. Not that his heart or kidney stone were the threat, but rather the stupid British traffic rules!!! My dear husband, would always look in the wrong direction, see no cars coming his way (of course since they are coming from the opposite direction) and then he would cross right in front of a double-decker, a London taxi, or even a stretch limo. I proudly saved his life in each of those three times, and saved him from serious injury on at least seven other occasions.
Not claiming that I was more accustomed to it in any way, but at least I was aware of the danger, so I would be careful enough to stop at any crossing, read the sign that instructed pedestrians to the direction of traffic, look that way, and then cross. Well I have to admit, I had almost two weeks of training before he started venturing the hostile, topsy turvy roads.
If you are wondering how grateful he was for all my glorious superwoman action, I'm sorry to disappoint you. Other than cursing the Brits, he did not say a word about my deeds. When I could not take the horrible lack of appreciation anymore, and pointed out that he was lucky that I was next to him and saved his life more than tens times in a couple of days, he looked at me and said:
"You've been next to me every time I almost died??? You must be the worst jinx ever!!!"
HE'S TRULY LUCKY THAT WE LEFT LONDON AND ITS DEADLY TRAFFIC THE VERY NEXT DAY!!