Saturday, March 24, 2012
It's 11AM and I've been up since 8AM, dying to be productive, but unable to wake him up because he needs the sleep.
During the weekdays he wakes up at 4AM. While he gets ready I murmur, "have a nice day." When he overslept the other day, I called his work to make sure he made it in okay. He thoroughly appreciated it.
"Thanks for checking up on me baby," he responded. I worry about his rush in the morning on the freeway; if some asshole hits him while Jimmy tries to make it to work on time. "I hate bad drivers, they are inconsiderate because they are putting my life in danger," he declares. I cringe because I'm a bad driver.
Despite waking at 4AM, Jimmy tries to keep up with us 9 to 5ers. Or rather 8:30 to 7 for me. So he stays out with us until midnight getting only 3 hours of sleep a night and shooting 4 shots of espresso just so that he can make it through the day. He's been complaining about heart burn and his heart beating irregularly.
The other weekend on the freeway Jimmy blurts, "can we find urgent care? I can't breathe." I toss my iPhone to the backseat and ask a non-smart phone user to find something close by because I was driving. "My heart is beating so fast... I can't breathe." Jimmy started to panic. I ask my friends to call 911, but knew that mobile - 911 is delayed because they have to track where you are.
"OMG." I remember uttering those words in a shaky voice. I exit the freeway and park at a fast food joint. "Can I recline my seat?" Jimmy's hand is cold and he is moving around uncomfortably. I ask if his left arm was numb and he declares that he was having a heart attack.
I storm in the restaurant while the back seat passengers where silenced by the emergency. I slam my hand on the counter and slap it 10 times as if it were a buzzer. "MY FRIEND IS HAVING A HEART ATTACK. CALL 911." The cashier picks up the phone, the patron is shocked, but then is served by someone else. My friend walks in and I point to him go back to the car and check on Jimmy.
I come back after the call had been made. Jimmy is shivering. I grab my ski jacket in the trunk to cover him. His face is distressed. I hold his hand. "I cant afford this baby," he states.
"Don't worry about it Jimmy. Please. I have money, I can take care of you." I tear up a little. I look up what to do on my iPhone - "call 911." Okay... done. I direct my other friends who were in another car to where we were using Yelp. My friends in the backseat were basically useless. It felt like the gears in my head were turning quickly while my friends' had mental constipation. But not everyone had lifeguard training.
(CPR to the Rhythm of the Bee Gees, "HA HA HA HA STAY ING A LIVE STAY ING A LIVE HA HA HA HA STAY ING A LIVE." Or alternatively, Another one bites the Dust. But that's my least favorite.)
A fire truck and ambulance comes in 10 minutes. Sirens can be heard from where we were. Firemen come to Jimmy - "how old are you."
Jimmy states, "25." They smile, walk to ambulance, mutter something and drive off. Jimmy is walked into the ambulance so that they can check his vitals.
In the evening Jimmy told me that he was stressed. Stressed about a lot of things. About expectations and about keeping up with our friends which compromised his sleep patterned. He was stressed about me being upset because I get angry that he sleeps in so much, that he naps all the time because I think it's a waste of time, but Jimmy needs to sleep in. His body needs to recover.
So it's 11:23AM and I'm still in bed next to him kissing him on the cheek and telling him that I think he's so handsome (which I've been doing since 8AM). After posting this, I'm going to cook him eggs and sausage and just set it by the nightstand so that he can eat when his body is ready instead of forcing him to wake up with me like I usually do.
I worry about him being okay... and just want him to enjoy his mornings his way.
at 11:25 AM