|Posted by firstname.lastname@example.org on July 16, 2020 at 2:45 AM|
The two paramedics move Ben from the electric bed in our living room to a transport chair. There are braces, straps and foot holds. He's too tall and it's not smooth. My heart breaks with every awkard move. My sister and I help wheel him out- she carries his oxygen tank, they lift the metal chair and I support his head .. all the while talking to him.
I'm right here. Are you okay? You're okay. You'll be okay. We're almost there. Hang on sweetheart, hang on.
We get Ben- in the chair- to the gurney. It's propped up beside the ambulance. Time slows as the four of us unclip and plan to lift and transfer him. I see pain in his face and tears in the corner of his eyes. Finally, we lay him flat and he finds a small relief- he is no longer being man-handled.
Paramedic number two pushes the 'lift' button and as the gurney raises to a height for loading into the ambulance, I say, 'Honey, they are raising you up to me for a kiss. Bringing your lips to mine.'
He's delirious and in pain, but he looks right at me and puckers his thin lips. I kiss them softly and then they load him into the ambulance.