“Collapsed, I can’t take it any more”.

For a long time, I just stared at this
message and didn’t know how to react. I need to sort my thoughts out, but how?

I keep falling, and there is no bottom of
life. The abyss seems to stretch like forever.

Seven months. Three hospitals, tried all
the treatments available and visited countless doctors. No one could give us an
explanation. Perhaps there is one but it is not enough to pull me out of
suspicions and doubts, which has already torn me apart.

The last visit to the doctor happened about
two days ago.

It took me about a whole month to make that
appointment and two hours to wait outside. And ten minutes later, we were literally
thrown out of the door.

The doctor had a blister tongue, and every
word he said seemed to be a slap on the face.

“You are wasting my time. Yes, you have a
slipped disc. Yes, it pains. So what? Accept it. Mine is worse than you and I still
have a job to do, and a life to live. Okay, I’m telling you this just for the
sake of your wife. You are lucky because she is still there. Accept the pains, be
a man and get a job!”

The question is my husband can’t stand it.
Perhaps he is just extremely sensitive to the pains, or perhaps long time of
lying in bed has finally broke him, eroded his courage, and makes him sort-of
addictive to the bed, or perhaps it’s just a matter of time, or perhaps all the
doctors have made a huge mistake and his condition is much worsen—-I just don’t
know! And all these Perhaps are going to kill me.

I need a break. I start to avoid his company.
I don’t know how to face him. There is something burning in my chest
threatening to well up. I have to use every ounce of my strength to keep it in
check.

“I’m not imaging these pains!” he keeps
saying that. And when I was in line to get his medicine, he wanted to come back
to the car to lie down, to rest. I exploded: “Then prove him wrong! If I were you,
I would bite the bullet to get out of that damn bed. Even it was going to kill
me, at least I was telling the world I am not that weak!”—perhaps I was not
fair to say that. Just as he said, I didn’t have a slipped disc and I didn’t
know what he was going through.

Could it be worse than give a birth?

For the last two days, fairly speaking, he did
try his best. He made a record to leave the bed for three to four hours a day,
which was already double as the usual.

The pains, the sufferings. And today, on
the way to the nearby bread shop, he collapsed. He made it 40 minutes.

What should we do?

Keep trying. Fight.