sometime in 97 or 98 this happened… Paul got an ulcer
I found him passed out in the john after a bleed. Shit happened pretty fast after that.
The post op nurse at RCH got my attention after Paul was out of surgery. “This is not the day to have a talk about your relationship! Do not sign any papers, make any large purchases, make any emotional demands and DO NOT let him drive. He appears rational. He is not.”
He FLOATED over the bedside rails, (I know that sounds ludicrous, but I ain’t lyin’) came gently to earth and bounced/floated over to the post op nurse, speaking continuously and in an almost scarily cheerful voice about what a great experience getting his blown ulcer mended was. ‘They sprayed something down my throat and I didn’t feel a thing.’ I looked at the nurse. She nodded, to agree with my mental email to the effect that he wasn’t feeling a fucking thing now, either.
I went to get his post op meds in the same mall as our doc Peggy was (at the time) and after I told him to stay in the car (Stay in the car for Chrissakes I’ll get it, but NOPE) he floated over to the office counter, yelled for the doc to come out and fulsomely thanked her for the surgeon recommendation. He was all but hanging on her neck and crying. I bet Peggy doesn’t even remember that, not that she’s obliged to, but damn it was funny afterwards. (At the time, thanks to my autism, I was suffering TORTURES OF PUBLIC EMBARRASSMENT)
I told him I was going to tie him to the bed to prevent him from floating away but as soon as he got his shoes off and sat down, he said, “I should probably lie down,” and HUT he was unconscious for another six hours – which was a relief, I was scared he was going to get on the phone and start telling randos that he loved them.
If you show your true personality in those circumstances, I guess Paul’s a sweetheart. It really was one of the most adorable things he ever did.
