Well, I was more than a bit taken back. Perhaps the word should be confused or perhaps it was shocked. Really it was both! What ever the description, I was unable to comment, think straight or respond. My friend just sat there as my numb, dazed, inarticulate response refused to challenge my paralyzed tongue. My mind refused to give any command to my voice or body. I felt my face go blank as my body just tensed then began to tremble ever so slightly. I don't think I purposefully moved for at least ten seconds. I didn't even breathe.
The shock of what he had just told me was beyond believable yet, there he sat across the little Arby's table, looking intently and sympathetically at me. My left hand was the first to respond as I carefully put the diet cola I had been sipping back on the table. I had been in a state of animated suspension, unable to move.
Next, I realized that my mouth was still almost full of the icy drink I had sipped through the straw. I gulped it down and took a big long overdue breath. Letting my breath out slowly through pursed lips, I felt my best friend's warm hand cover my right hand. I had dropped my recently purchased sandwich. My hand had begun to twitch slightly. I sat otherwise motionless.
The emotional response to his statement had been pure, body paralyzing shock. My response mimicked my first day in surgery as a junior medical student when I straight out fainted when a small artery squirted a stream of blood from the mouth of a small child who was undergoing a tonsillectomy.
The blood had hit me in the face, splattering on my face. This was long before HIV was known and we were required to wear shields to prevent contact with body fluids during surgery. Sure, I had had no breakfast; I had had trouble breathing with that my first full sterile suit up with twin tightly applied cotton masks. Fortunately I was only an observer. Nevertheless, my response had been paralytic then a full faint. I learned later that the surgeon had ordered the circulating nurse to pull my limp body over to the side of the surgical suite so no one would trip over me. Never since, until now, had I had such a paralytic response.
Now, as then, I felt the rapid onset of a vasovagal faint coming on but I now knew how to manage it this time. I quickly slipped over from behind the little table, bent forward, grabbed my knees, pulled them tightly up against my stomach and rolled onto my back on the bench seat. Gradually I felt the buzzing and deafness diminish as the blackness receded.
The lights came back on howbeit agonizingly slow. Finally I could hear again and the nausea regressed. I saw my friend standing by me unsure of what to do except to keep asking me if I was alright. I small crowd of inquisitive diners had gathered nearby. Others just stared at me from their booths as I recovered. The manager came around but by then I was almost fully functional again. I sat back up as my presence of mind and body reappeared from the hazy darkness.
My first reaction to this so unlike me event, was: total embarrassment. I smiled and waved off the onlookers as I grasped my cola to take another sip. I found great beads of sweat had gathered on my face and forehead. I tasted the salty flavor of those that had run down my face onto my lips. These were all quickly dispensed with by a series of quick wipes with a paper napkin. I sat in an almost trance like state smiling apologetically at my friend Bobby. He was again seated across the table from me.
"I..I.. I'm sorry, Bobby" I stammered in a whisper. "That was so quick I had lost control for a moment. That has happened only once before in my whole lifetime."
What had triggered such an overwhelming and somewhat embarrassing situation? I couldn't remember right off. You see, I'm an E. R. doctor, trained and experienced in handling all sorts of emergencies with the cool, calm collected dispassionate response needed to save lives and bring order out of chaos. I was truly embarrassed by my body's uncontrolled response to those few words from an old and trusted friend. As my senses came back on line, hearing first, then sense of warmth, the vision then body position and finally speech, the last to recover was the memory of his words.
I will never forget them. "Jon, your wife is having an affair" There it was, just like the right hook the boxer never saw. Like the unseen and unfelt haymaker that had put him on the floor for the ten count plus more. Those words were now etched in my memory, indelibly, neither to be fathomed nor forgotten.
I was sitting again now, sipping on my diet cola, looking over the off-white rim of the plastic cup. I stared at my friend. I was still a little numb in my brain but the buzzing in my ears had ceased and my peripheral vision was now perfect again. I sensed purposelessness in my movements of adjusting to my buttock while sipping my cola and trying to get oxygen flowing to my frontal lobes.
"Bobby", I mouthed softly, "Tell me what you know. I can't believe what you just said yet you have never lied to me before. Surely you didn't say what I thought I heard?".
Bobby, my colleague in the E.R., long time friend, classmate in Medical school and residency plus being a nearby neighbor, looked at me with grim determination. I saw sadness in his eyes.
"Jon, I told you that I am sure your Sherrie is messing around on you."
"Bobby?" I questioned him. "Please don't fuck with me. I know we joke around a lot but this time, this is really serious business. What in the world would make you tell me such an unbelievable story?"
"Jon, I could not believe it at first either. At first I believed it was just gossip but it's from a reliable source and with more than a smidgeon of evidence supporting this outrageous crap."
"What the heck, Bobby. Let me hear the story."
"Okay, Jon. Here it is. Just you don't fall out on me again."
I fidgeted with my cola and now cold French fries. I dipped a fry in the tiny cup of catsup. Finally my eyes looked up and fixed on his. I took a long deep breath, exhaling slowly, "Okay, let's hear it" I heard myself saying.
"First, let me tell you that I just heard this yesterday. This is all brand new to me also. I do this because if anything like this ever happens to me, I want to know about as soon as possible to. I gain no satisfaction from telling you but it would hurt me more to keep it from you".
Bobby's voice was toned down as he leaned across the table. He was as tense and grim as I had ever seen him yet there was an unusual tenderness in his voice. I knew he really didn't want to be telling me.
"Jon, this is why I asked you out for lunch today. I wanted you to hear this right off. I know that bad news is easier digested fresh than stale. In addition, I have never held anything back from you and I know you have always been totally upfront with me. That's how our friendship has grown and cemented us together over the years. I need for you to believe me that I hate being the bearer of bad news and, yes, I believe it. You need to know that I am totally on your side and will do anything to help you discover the truth and resolve this awful problem. I see how hard this hit you. It has impacted me almost as hard.
I couldn't sleep last night, knowing what I had been told and knowing what I had to do. I had to tell you. We have both had to tell patients and families of impending death. It's something we have to do. We can't push that off on the nurses or chaplains. It's the same here. It is my responsibility, as your friend, to tell you. That's what I'm going to do right now.
He continued in the subdued but direct way. "Jon, my wife just heard about this also. She is the one who told me only yesterday evening. You were still at the hospital on the 2 to 12 E.R. shift. I had just finished the 6 to 6 shift. We had worked 4 hours side by side. My wife told me when I got home. Here is what she told me."
As usual, I had come in the back door and hollered out "Honey, I'm home". She was on the phone but immediately hung up and motioned to me urgently from the breakfast bar.
"Bobby, sit down. I have something awful to tell you. This is so unbelievable yet I have to believe it." I sat down and she slid a cold beer to me. "You know Sherrie and I (speaking of our wives) have been friends even before you and I got married. You know Sherrie was married to her high school sweetheart, Ron Sherbert. They had a little girl named Sammie. Then they got divorced. A couple of years later, Jon and her got married and you know the rest. You probably know that part also.
Her daughter, Sammie, is now working and living with a girl friend in a near by little community. She was always a bit on the exhibitionist side and was always flirting with serious trouble in high school. Sherrie and Jon just couldn't seem to control her. They tested for ADHD but didn't meet the criteria for medication. She was just a problem child. They took her to a psychiatrist for several years but her behaviors never really improved and finally, when she reached 17 she ran away from home. She was 'acting out' as some mental health workers would say. At least she finished high school."
"Well, you know I've been working in the Social Services department of our hospital. Oh my, Bobby, I'm going to break my professional ethics here but it has to be done. I am so ashamed of myself for telling you this because I know you have to tell Jon. He has a right to know. No, he has a need to know. I may get fired for telling you this and never be able to get a job again for divulging confidential information but my conscience tells me I just have to tell you because you are my husband. What you do with this is your business. Let your conscience and friendship with Jon sort it out. I know you and he can handle it and will do the right thing."
