Don't Sell The Ring Just Yet
Albert W. Caron, Jr.
©
Copyright 2025 by Albert W. Caron, Jr.
|
Photo by 21849078 on
Pixabay. |
A
simple gold band. Given with unconditional love on our
wedding
day. With a promise to care for one another in sickness and
in
health. Until death do us part. Little did we know then, that
our vows spoken years ago, would be taken literally years later.
While
on vacation in a large Eastern city several years ago, my wife Eileen
had a horrific fall into a subway pit during an electrical
blackout.
Severe enough that she was hospitalized for 10 days. As I sat
by her bedside during her recovery, I had time to reflect that she
had been my primary caregiver years earlier when I was bedridden
after two major surgeries.
A
few years earlier we were on a Caribbean cruise when vision in my
right eye looked like a spider’s web. I went to the
ship’s physician who told me that I had a detached retina and
had to be evacuated from the ship immediately. The doctor and
his staff made all the arrangements including a private jet with
nurses waiting for me at the next port in the Bahamas to be
transported back to the U.S. Thank goodness we purchased the
insurance. Once in the states, I saw several doctors who got me back
home and scheduled surgery a few days later.
To
say I was nervous on the day of the surgery was an understatement and
I joked with the staff as they prepped me for the procedure. Before
being wheeled into the operating room, a nurse noticed that I was
wearing my wedding ring. She told me no jewelry. Hospital
policy. I slipped it off and told her that my wife was in the
waiting room. She nodded and, as she turned, I told her to
tell
Eileen, “Don’t sell the ring just yet.” The
nurse laughed and walked away. When she returned, she said
that
my wife smiled, shook her head and rolled her eyes.
Surgery
was successful and before we returned home that afternoon Eileen
placed the ring back on my finger and we chuckled. She cared
for me as I began six weeks of recovery with limited vision and a
patch over my right eye. No computers and no
reading.
Audio books were my only choice. Eileen became my nurse,
caretaker and chauffeur. As my eye healed, I received plenty
of
loving care.
Three
years later I woke up in the middle of the night with chest pains and
Eileen called 911. After several tests, a cardiologist found five
severe blockages and major heart surgery was scheduled: a quintuple
bypass. After six hours of surgery and seven hours in
recovery,
I woke up briefly and a nurse asked if I wanted anything. I
requested something to drink and told her I had a favor: call my wife
and tell her “Don’t sell the ring just yet.”
The attending nurse looked at me like I was out of my mind, affected
by pain medication, but she made the call. She returned a few
moments later and was smiling and said that Eileen knew I was
OK.
I grinned and fell back asleep. It would be many weeks before
I
returned to normal physical activities but Eileen again was a
trooper, caring for me as I recovered.
During
a summer vacation three years later, we vacationed in a big city and
toured many historical sites. One day the weather was very
hot
and humid with temperatures in the 90’s. We decided to return
to our hotel for a cooling swim. We proceeded to the nearest
subway station and noticed that it was very dark. A power outage we
learned later. I let Eileen go ahead through the
turnstile.
As I placed my token in the slot, it jammed and I could not push the
bar open. It was seconds later that our world came crashing
down.
Then
I heard a bloodcurdling scream. I immediately recognized the
voice.
I pushed the bar again but it didn’t move. Adrenalin now
kicked in as I hopped over the jammed turnstile and looked for my
wife. From the darkened platform, I saw Eileen laying on the
tracks five feet below. My heart was pounding as I searched
for
a way to get to her. I frantically yelled to the station manager,
“Stop the train! Stop the train! Call
911!”
The station head implored me to stay on the platform. Time
froze as it seemed seconds became minutes and minutes became hours
waiting for the EMTs. My only vision was that Eileen was
moving
ever so slightly and hadn’t hit the third rail. She was
conscious, but barely. First responders arrived minutes later
descending into the pit and, after 30 pulsating minutes, the team
carefully extricated Eileen and took her to a nearby hospital.
The
emergency room triage team found that one leg had a compound
fracture, the other had a severe ankle sprain. They placed a “Miami”
collar around her neck for support. Thankfully there were no head
injuries. She was conscious and as she was wheeled to the OR
I
told her how much I loved her. I was frightened but the ER
doctor reassured me that she would pull through. Eileen,
however, would require multiple operations. We were fortunate that
the top orthopedic surgeon in that hospital and a specialist near our
home operated on her. Still she would also need extensive
rehabilitation.
I
stayed at a nearby hotel and each day walked to the hospital
mid-morning. Sitting bedside with my bride, all I could hear was the
constant beeping of the monitors and watched as nurses drifted in and
out of the private room checking the equipment. They smiled
and
assured me that all was progressing, yet slowly. At times when Eileen
was sleeping, I visited the hospital chapel praying for her
recovery. When she was awake, I held her hand as the room
became a place of security and serenity. Eileen was
discharged
10 days after her fall and we headed home via a seven-hour ambulance
ride.
During
that ride home, I contemplated our wedding vows repeated long
ago.
There was no question what I would do. Daily care for
Eileen’s
recovery was now on my shoulders. Once home and the ambulance
drivers left, we hugged each other in the privacy of our home. I was
so grateful for her love and her life. Physically I was
exhausted and mentally my spirits were low but Eileen comforted me
with words I knew all too well: “Don’t sell the ring just
yet.” And I cried. I knew she was going to be OK.
Al
Caron is a retired inner city English teacher who was nationally
recognized in “Who’s Who Among America’s Teachers”
four times. In retirement he teaches a memoir course for seniors and
has pioneered a highly successful memoir program between a local
healthcare facility and Honor Society high school students who
interview, record and type these recollections for the residents to
pass along to their families.
In
addition he has had three non-fiction stories published. Currently
he lives in Marion, MA with his wife Eileen of more than 50 years. They
have two daughters and two grandchildren.
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