My day is definitely not what I had planned.

I was all set and excited to be attending the Boston Red Sox home-opener game and festivities at Fenway Park.  Barry and I have been 4-ticket season ticket-holders for 10 years, and, for a variety of reasons, I’ve never been to the much coveted home-opener.  Today was to be my big day.

BUT… yesterday morning, I found Barry, in our bedroom, flat on the floor and unable to get up.  (Yes, it comes to mind, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.)  It seems he had lost his balance while getting dressed, felt and heard a monstrous rrrriiiippppp in his lower back area, and fell immediately in excruciating pain.  Barry is not the type to complain, never mind scream in pain, so when I saw him, I was momentarily confused.  Like, “What are you doing on the floor?” type of confused.

I immediately knew the extent of the pain when he groaned, “I can’t move.”  One thing about me is that I never panic in an urgent situation.  I panic otherwise (like when my computer won’t start), but never in an emergency.  Barry was laying on his stomach, flat out.  I went to his legs to see if they were able to be moved.  Yes.  His toes.  Yes.  His arms.  Yes. But each time he tried to move, his back killed.  We tried to get him on his knees.  No.  His side.  No.

Jane is staying with us right now, so I said I was going to wake her up for help.  “NO,” Barry insisted.  

“I am calling 911,” I said.

“NO,” again.

“Then I’m putting in an emergency call to (our family physician),” I said.

Barry relented, and within minutes, our physician called back.  I heard Barry grimacing, “OK. OK. Then what?” kind of things.  Our physician said that if Barry could get up, with help, and get to an emergency clinic, that would be OK.  Otherwise, we would have to call 911 for ambulance transport to our local hospital.  I called Audrey’s husband, Matt, for help.  Matt is 6′ 3″ and very strong.  Matt arrived within minutes, but there was no position that Matt could get Barry into that allowed him to kneel, never mind stand. By then, Jane was awake and helping, too… and Barry was getting more frustrated with his inability to move.  I know it was a pride thing as much as a pain thing… and that broke my heart.

We knew within minutes that 911 was the only solution.  And that meant sirens, a rescue vehicle, a fire truck and men.  Just what Barry did not want.  We live on a very main street in a little town, and Barry was not happy with this scenario.  But it was the only one.  Within minutes, 4 strong men were bounding up our stairs to the bedroom.  It was decided that, because Barry could not move, a hard board stretcher and straps were needed to get him transported down our stairs.  (Oh, did I forget to mention that our bedroom is on our second story?)  I could hear Barry clenching his teeth.  I could feel the pain in my body.  Jane was feeling helpless and tears were streaming from her eyes, and Matt quietly watched.

Barry does not get sick.  Barry never needs help.  Barry is everyone’s rock.  But there he was being carried down our stairs and into a waiting ambulance in the morning Sunday sunshine.

Jane and I followed the ambulance the 5 minutes or so to the hospital and met Barry in the emergency room.  Then Jane made the calls to Audrey for an update, and to Keith and Adam.  Adam was there within minutes and Keith (who was running a 5K in Massachusetts) was soon there in all of his running gear.  Then the wait.  The pain medications.  The x-rays.  

The diagnosis.  It could be ligament damage.  Disc damage.  Not sure.  But Barry was sent home with lots of pain medication and instructions to ice frequently and to make an appointment with a back specialist ASAP.  So this is what we are doing.  As I type, I am waiting for a call-back from the recommended specialist.

And this is why I am not going to be heading to Boston today with Barry, Keith and Adam.  Sure, I’m disappointed.  I am a Red Sox fan.  I bought a new Boston t-shirt for the occasion.  Seal is performing. Our hometown player, Rocco Baldelli, is making his first appearance in a Red Sox uniform at Fenway. It’s April.  It’s baseball… my favorite sport.  

But you know what’s more important than any and all of that?  My husband.  My love.  My life.  I’d rather be freezing his ice packs and delivering his breakfast, lunch and dinner to him in his favorite spot in our family room… and watching all the Red Sox festivities on television.  I am just so thankful that the medication has eased the pain enough for him tolerate sitting and standing.  And to come home.

Yep.  This home-opener really is at home!