The voice on the other end of the line was full of alarm. \u201cMarion, come quick. Something\u2019s wrong with Gene.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gene and I had met after both of us lost our mates of 25 years. We\u2019d been married for 24 years now and were at a point in our lives where we indulged ourselves a little with massages and pedicures.<\/p>\n
I hadn\u2019t given it much thought when he\u2019d taken off in his white truck earlier for his regular pedicure at Stonebridge Salon, but with one quick phone call, my old enemy\u2014fear\u2014was upon me just like that.<\/p>\n
I drove to the salon, 10 minutes from our house, on autopilot, my mind hurtling back to one dark winter afternoon when I was seven years old. I\u2019d been watching out the window for my mother to come home from work. She was late. A terrible thought struck me.<\/p>\n
Your mother is probably dead, like your father. You\u2019re all alone now.<\/em><\/p>\n I\u2019d been only two when my father died. Looking out the window for my mother I could feel my heart pound. I bit the inside of my cheek. I didn\u2019t dare turn on the light. That would mean it was really night, way past time for Mother to be home.<\/p>\n Please, please, God, <\/em>I begged, let Mother appear before I count to ten. <\/em>I counted as slowly as I could, lingering on nine-and-a-half for the umpteenth time.<\/p>\n At last I saw her. Sweet relief flooded through me as I flipped on the light. I never told my mother how terrified I\u2019d been. And I never anticipated how that fear of losing someone I loved would hound me in the years to come.<\/p>\n What-ifs used to plague me: What if something happens to my husband? What if one of the children has an accident?<\/em><\/p>\n I pulled into the shopping center where Stonebridge Salon was. An ambulance and some other emergency vehicles were right outside, with lights flashing.<\/p>\n I hurried into the salon. Two of the hairdressers were bent over Gene. One called his name loudly. The other cleaned up vomit. An EMT took his blood pressure.<\/p>\n Gene slumped in the pedicure chair, his face ashen, eyes half-closed. Someone said that the bottom half of his blood pressure was so low it hadn\u2019t registered. I knelt by the chair and took his hand. It felt limp and clammy.<\/p>\n \u201cHi,\u201d I said in what I hoped was a normal voice.<\/p>\n No response.<\/p>\n The EMTs got Gene on a stretcher and wheeled him out to the waiting ambulance. I followed, feeling helpless.<\/p>\n Here we go again, <\/em>came the insidious whisper of fear.<\/p>\n Suddenly it was 1982, a sunny afternoon in September, and I was watching my first husband, Jerry, unconscious, unresponsive, be loaded into the back of an ambulance. I climbed into the front seat as instructed by an EMT. I managed to hold off fear by praying and reciting Scripture silently.<\/p>\n I was doing pretty well until someone handed me Jerry\u2019s flat brown billfold. Holding a loved one\u2019s billfold has got to be one of the loneliest, most isolating experiences in the world.<\/p>\n Jerry was 47 and until then, had never been sick a day in his life. Eventually tests showed that he\u2019d suffered a massive seizure triggered by a malignant brain tumor. Surgery to remove it was unsuccessful. <\/p>\n As the doctors told us Jerry didn\u2019t have long, the fear of being in our house alone took hold of me. I grew up without a daddy,and I can\u2019t grow old without a husband. <\/em><\/p>\n Just before Jerry died 10 grueling months later, God got through to me somehow and cast out the fear, silenced the What-ifs. For good, I\u2019d thought.<\/p>\n A young, kind voice drew me back to the present. \u201cMa\u2019am? You can get in the front seat.\u201d One of the EMTs gestured to the open passenger door of the ambulance cab. Gene lay very still in the back, not speaking.<\/p>\n A small crowd had gathered in front of the salon. Someone ran over. \u201cMarion, here\u2019s Gene\u2019s billfold and glasses.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you,\u201d I said, remaining dry-eyed. But on the inside, I crumbled. It was like being with Jerry in the ambulance, only this time I could hardly even find the words to pray.<\/p>\n Fifteen minutes later we were in an examination room at the hospital. I sat close to Gene\u2019s bed as a nurse started an IV. God, please let Gene be okay, <\/em>I pleaded silently. Help me not be afraid. <\/em>It didn\u2019t feel like much of a prayer.<\/p>\n A woman from the business office slipped in. \u201cMay I have your husband\u2019s insurance cards, please?\u201d<\/p>\n I opened Gene\u2019s billfold, the creases in the leather sweetly familiar. All the cards blurred before me. I didn\u2019t have my glasses but even if I had, I wouldn\u2019t have been able to see straight, I was so scared. I took out all the cards and fumbled them.<\/p>\n The woman leaned over. \u201cHere they are, dear.\u201d She plucked the insurance cards out of their pile, told me she\u2019d be back soon and left with them.<\/p>\n I tried to put the other cards back in their slots\u2014Gene likes everything in its place\u2014but my hands couldn\u2019t seem to work properly. What was that scrap of paper?<\/p>\n I unfolded it. I squinted and recognized Gene\u2019s handwriting, large block letters, the ink somewhat faded: YOUR THOUGHTS CREATE YOUR EMOTIONS.<\/p>\n Gene loved that simple truth, and we\u2019d often discussed it over the years. Still, I had no idea that he carried the quotation with him.<\/p>\n I held his hand and whispered those five words over and over. Their meaning surged into my being, as surely as the IV pumped healing fluids into Gene. I gazed at his hand in mine, at the wedding band on his finger.<\/p>\n Gene spoke softly. I looked up, leaned closer. \u201cWhat did you say?\u201d He lifted his head slightly. \u201cWhat about the mess I made?\u201d<\/p>\n Our friends don\u2019t call him Mr. Clean for nothing. I was so relieved to hear him sounding like himself that I joked, \u201cThey said you can\u2019t come back. Ever.\u201d<\/p>\n He laughed. So did I. Our laughter seemed to bubble up in that small room, pushing fear right out.<\/p>\n Gene came home the next day. All his tests were normal. The doctors thought he\u2019d probably taken some morning medication incorrectly and then putting his feet into hot water for the pedicure had created the perfect storm.<\/p>\n Late one afternoon the following week, Gene took his beloved white truck to be washed and detailed (he\u2019s Mr. Clean, remember). \u201cI\u2019ll be back in a couple hours,\u201d he said. I was engrossed in a book I\u2019d been reading all day and only looked up long enough to wave.<\/p>\n It wasn\u2019t until the shadows lengthened on the page and I reached over to turn on the lamp beside my reading chair that I realized how late it had gotten. My hand froze in mid-air. How long had Gene been gone? More than a couple hours.<\/p>\n