Tag Archives: Losing a Loved One

Victor and Kristofer fell asleep on the couch with KC our spaniel, 2 weeks before the accident

Victor and Kristofer fell asleep on the couch with KC our spaniel, 2 weeks before the accident

We were at VGH in 20 minutes; we went through every intersection with lights and sirens going, every time he put on the sirens he warned me, I felt very much like Victor and I were in capable hands.

We talked a bit on the way down about how Victor and I had just had a baby who was only 6 weeks old. I remember we were laughing about something.

When we got to the hospital he told me to wait for him he’d be right back. When he came back he told me to stick close to him. They unloaded Victor and all of a sudden there was a flurry of activity (just like on medical shows like ER) doctors and nurses every where and they whisked Victor down a hallway, I stuck beside my ambulance attendant and a nurse tried to block my way. “You can’t come in here. You’ll have to wait out there.” The ambulance attendant said, “This is his wife, she’s ok” the nurse gave him a look that said, “You know it’s against the rules” or maybe more like “I don’t need an hysterical wife on my hands”; and he took her aside. I couldn’t hear what he said but she let me through until we got to another area and then he said I’d have to stay there; someone would get me after they admitted Victor and examined him. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that ambulance attendant paved the way for me and opened doors usually closed to the family of patients in the trauma unit; he gave me credibility.

It was hours before I got to talk to any of the doctors but finally they called me into a little room (they have these little almost cubicles with a door on them to give privacy, that is where they usually give you the bad news) inside the trauma unit. The prognosis sounded pretty good, they said that his physical condition was a big plus in his favor. He had been going to the gym regularly and was in good shape, and weighed almost 200 lbs and they said that was really going to help in his recovery.

They said that barring him getting an infection they didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t be out within a week or so and go into a ward. They said that the key was getting him out of there within 10 days; that every day past 10 days in the trauma unit his odds of surviving dropped drastically.

I was very niave and had no idea what an infection meant or how life threatening an infection can be.

I was taken in to see him and was shocked by what I saw when I walked through the double doors of the trauma unit. In every sense of the word it was a MASH unit, it was a huge sterile room, to the right was the nurses station and on three sides were patients, only a few feet apart, all hooked up to monitors, and respirators, there was a constant beep, beep, beep, coming from each bed, and whoosh of air for each respirator. All the patients were naked except for a small white hand towel covering their private parts, there were curtains to go around each bed but every one was pulled back. I tried not to look at the other people, wanting to give them their privacy and afraid of what I might see. (I was told the trauma unit was designed after an army medical MASH unit because it was the most efficient and successful way of dealing with severly injured people. They said the first hour after a traumatic injury was crucial to whether a person survived or not.) I hated hospitals at the best of times and usually cried just entering one; this was testing me big time.

They took me to Victor and he basically looked the same, without blankets covering him I could see the tire tread marks across his abdomen. They said they had given him something for pain so he was groggy but they said he had quite the personality and with his attitude he should have a speedy recovery. Figures, he had won them over within the first few hours, typical of Victor and my spirits were uplifted.

“Hey, sunshine, how are you doing? I’ve been waiting to see you a long time; do you know where you are sweetie?”

He shook his head. “You had a motorcycle accident, you are in VGH, but you’re going to be ok.” When I said motorcycle accident he looked surprised, he was trying to talk but the breathing tube down his throat stopped him, he tried writing on a chalk board but was too groggy. “it’s Ok honey, just rest; I’ll be here when you wake up”.

They told me that they were going to set his pelvis the next day and they were also going to remove his gall bladder and spleen because they were too damaged.

To be totally honest I don’t recall what happened next or in what order things happened, I only know things went downhill fast and furiously.

I am sure it was because of the ambulance attendant saying something to the nurses when I arrived but I was given preferential treatment right from the start, where as other families would have to wait for hours in the waiting room and only be allowed in for certain times and length of time I was allowed in 24/7 for as long as I wanted.

Victor took a turn for the worst and my mom ended up getting a hotel for her and I for two days; I had slept in the hospital for a couple of nights. I didn’t see Kris for almost a week when I finally was able to go home.

My best girlfriend Teri took it upon herself to organize baby sitting for Kristofer and when I got home she handed me a list of who was taking him on what days; what a saint she was. She was a single mom and paid our mortgage one month too and she also found someone who donated to us a beautiful crib and baby clothes, he was the best dressed baby for the 1st 2 years of his life, whoever donated the clothes must have had money, I had never seen such beautiful baby outfits.

My dad took care of Kris when he wasn’t working, he just couldn’t stand seeing Victor that way, he had a very hard time dealing with the accident. My dad was a tough prison guard who’d seen it all and I’d never seen him like that. He thought he was better off taking care of Kris which was great because at least he was with family.

The hospital guaranteed me that they could keep Victor alive for 3 hours; meaning I had time to get home and back to the hospital. Some times they couldn’t guarantee me that and it was on those days I stayed at the hospital until they could get him stable enough for me to leave. Of course this was before cell phones and it was an hour and half home if traffic was good.

I always stayed amazingly calm, I don’t think I ever cried in there, my parents pointed out that I had developed a habit of twisting a piece of my hair around and around my finger, but I never let my emotions show. I think I was afraid if I did I would lose control and they wouldn’t allow me the access I had.

Some of the nurses told me I should be home with my baby that Victor didn’t know I was there anyway. I figured I had a life time with Kristofer and maybe only hours with Victor, the father of my baby; Victor needed me now and Kristofer was going to need his daddy. They insisted he didn’t know I was there, but I knew he knew. I would sit beside his bed and talk to him about all the things we would do when he got well, how we would take Kristofer fishing, and we’d get Victor workout stuff for at home, I would ramble on and on about anything I thought would give him hope.

I brought in his pillow from home and pictures of me and Kris and Kris with his daddy and taped them to the pole that went the length of his bed; as much for the nursing staff as for Victor. I wanted them to know the person; that this wasn’t just another patient, another piece of meat laying naked on a gurney, this man was a daddy, my husband, a good person that had to live and go home to his family. I really started something, before I knew it other patients had cards, pictures and such taped to their beds also.

They started alternating Victor’s nurses often because some of the nurses got too emotionally attached and they were afraid they wouldn’t do their job effectively. I was afraid there wasn’t enough consistency in care that way, sure they had his chart but they wouldn’t have the hands on experience of caring for him day to day so I started keeping track of his blood count, temperature, and heart rate so I could tell if an infection was brewing.

I had started a journal after the first week he was in the hospital because I wanted to keep it for Victor to read so he wouldn’t miss any part of Kristofer’s life.

The journal became so much more than I had initially anticipated it would be. I would keep track of my weight (even at times like this my weight was a major concern for me), I kept track of Victor’s vital signs and what was happening with him day to day, I wrote about Kristofer and any little thing that happened with him each day, I started to keep track of how much wine I was drinking because I thought I was developing a problem, and it was my sounding board, it was where I poured out my heart, my fears and anger.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

The Phone Call That Changed It All.

That is the face of my sweet 6 week old baby boy

That is the face of my sweet 6 week old baby boy

Victor and I just after we got married preparing for a 25th anniversay party for my parents.

Victor and I just after we got married preparing for a 25th anniversay party for my parents.

“There must be some mistake.”

“Have the police not called you Mrs. Ouellette?”

“No! No one called me except the hospital to say my husband had been admitted.”

“Well, I can’t tell you much more than that myself, he is pretty bad.”

“How bad? Surgery for what? Can’t you tell me anything?”

“Mrs. Ouellette, he has lost a lot of blood, he has major trauma to most of his body, they are taking him to surgery to try to stabilize him and find out the extent of his injuries. Mrs. Ouellette, do you have someone who can come and be with you right now?”

“No, I am coming, I’ll be there.”

“He is going to be in surgery a long time, if he survives surgery; why don’t you come in the morning?”

I hung up; did she really think I could just sit at home and wait to see if he survived surgery?

I couldn’t breath; I was walking around the house in a daze wondering what I do next, get the baby up? What will I do with a new born baby at the hospital? Why was Victor in Abbotsford? Where is my dad? I was shaking so badly it took me 4 tries to get my mom and dad’s number right and when I did the line was busy. I was pacing, crying, I just kept thinking No, it must be a mistake, it has to be a mistake. Finally my mom’s line was free and it only rang once, “Mom? Has dad called you?”

“Carrie, I just got off the phone with your dad, your brother is on his way to get you now, I’ve talked to Roy and Barb (my mom and dad’s neighbors They had been so supportive when I was pregnant the first time and now after having Kris they were so happy for me) and they are up and ready to take Kristofer.”

“It will be faster if I just drive there”

“Carrie, you are in no shape to drive, Mark is on his way, just get Kristofer ready to go, throw some diapers and formula in a bag and Mark will be there in 10 minutes.” My mind was racing as I threw formula, bottles, diapers and a few pairs of sleepers and t-shirts in Kristofer’s diaper bag then I went in to get Kristofer. I watched him sleeping, sucking his thumb. He was born sucking his thumb; he had even been sucking it when they did the ultrasound. He looked so peaceful, I hated to wake him but he snuggled into my neck when I picked him up and wrapped him in a warm blanket, I just kept thinking “No, there has to be some mistake, my dad would have called me if Victor was in an accident.”

Barb and Roy were up and waiting for Kristofer, they said not to worry they would keep him as long as necessary and I handed them my sleeping sweetheart. God how I hated to leave him; but I told myself I wouldn’t be long; it would only be until morning, then we’d get Victor transferred to Chilliwack hospital so he’d be closer.

Mom was ready to go and Mark drove the three of us to the hospital.

Me: “Why didn’t dad call sooner? Did he say what happened?”

Mom: “He sounded like he was in shock when I was talking to him, he thought he was calling you when he called the house and I had a hard time getting anything out of him. He is a real mess from the sounds of it over the phone.”

Me: “Were they all in an accident? Where’s Ken, are they both at the hospital?”

“Your dad said he’d meet us there, I don’t know if Ken is still there or not.”

When we got to the hospital my dad and Ken were sitting in the waiting room and both looked white and traumatized.

I asked what happened and they said they had gone to the Holy Smoke Pub; (a popular hang out for bikers in an old church) shot some pool and decided to eat some supper before heading home. Dad said he didn’t think Victor drank that much.

When they got to the border Victor was in front and cleared first, he yelled something about “See you guys at home.” And he laid on the throttle and disappeared. Ken was next to clear and then my dad bringing up the rear. Ken was a fair amount ahead of my dad but hadn’t caught sight of Victor yet when he heard a horrible grinding of metal and sparks lit up the sky in front of him. Ken rushed to the freeway and was confused by what he saw, Victor would have been heading east to go home but the accident was obviously in the west bound lanes, there was a big old Parissiene parked off to the side with a woman getting out of it but no other vehicles, but Victor was no where to be seen and there was a black lump laying on the road, Ken then noticed a semi tractor trailer barreling down the highway obviously unaware of the accident ahead; he managed to flag him down before he ran over Victor.

It took many months to figure out what exactly happened that night, but between the police report, the experts calculations, tire marks etc and then finally Victor’s recollections. Victor was heading onto the freeway and was speeding, I forget what they calculated but it was up around 100 mph, there is a long merge lane and according to Victor he was trying to merge but a car was refusing to pull into the left lane and was keeping pace beside Victor so instead of backing off he accelerated and he thought he hit the car and that is what caused the accident. In actual fact the police and highways department’s report stated there was gravel in the corner on the merge lane, anyone who rides motorcycle knows gravel in a corner will cause the motorcycle to go out of control and slide sideways. Victor hit the gravel at a high rate of speed he lost control of his bike and slide into the concrete abutment that divides the merge lane from the highway. Hitting the abutment catapulted Victor and his bike into the air. Victor landed right on the center line of the west bound traffic and was run over by a woman driving an old Pontiac Parisienne (s) his bike landed several yards east of him in the west bound lane. So he landed in front of the lady and his bike landed behind her. She stated that she saw the sparks but didn’t know where they came from and then what looked like a big green garbage bag fell from the sky, she didn’t know where it came from and didn’t have time to react and drove right over it. Ken stopped traffic, including the semi that was in line to drive over Victor, there happened to be a doctor in the traffic that night and he happened to have plasma and was able to hook Victor up to intravenous immediately which is no doubt what saved his life because when he got to the hospital his blood pressure was 0.

My brother drove my dad home and Ken rode his bike home and Mom stayed with me to wait for word on Victor. Nine hours later the surgeon appeared through the double doors of the OR looking like a character off of the movie MASH. His shoulders were slumped, he was pale, and he was covered in bright red blood, it was splattered on his face, his booties, and all over his green surgical outfit. You could tell the blood had been spurting at him and I kept looking at the bright red blood blotches and splatters thinking, “that is Victor’s blood he must be dead, no one can lose that much blood.” I prayed he wasn’t Victor’s surgeon but he walked up to me and asked, “Mrs. Ouellette? Can you follow me please?”

“How is he?……. Is he……alive?”

The doctor tried to give me a smile that ended up looking more like a grimace, “He is stable at the moment, critical by stable, we almost lost him several times and had to bring him back. I was able to stop the bleeding, I think; there is such major trauma to all his vital organs, his pelvis is crushed and all his organs were pushed up into the chest cavity. I was able to reattached his heel and his leg but he will need more surgery to set his pelvis.”

“But he’s going to live, right?”

”The next 36 hours will determine a lot, if he goes into renal failure we will have to send him to VGH (Vancouver General Hospital) they are the only ones equipped to deal with this kind of trauma. But for now he is stable.”

“Can I see him?”

“The nurse will come and get you as soon as they have him in post op. now if you will excuse me I am exhausted and.” He looked down at his gown and shoes as if he just realized he was covered in blood, “I want to clean up.”

After an eternity a nurse came out and said I could see Victor now, she took me aside and said, “Now I want you to be prepared, he isn’t going to look like himself, he has tubes running out of him every where, we need you to stay calm.” I nodded my head. “he is hooked up to a lot of different machines, there’s a lot of beeping etc.” I nodded again. “You can touch him, just be careful not to pull out any of his lines.” “I nodded and said,”Ok, can I see him now?”

“OK, come with me, now brace yourself, if you feel faint or anything let me know.”

We walked through the doors and there he was, I was so relieved, he looked great to me, he looked just like my Victor, “Hey Sunshine, I’m here, you had a motorcycle accident.” And I kissed his forehead and grabbed his hand. He had a breathing tube so he couldn’t talk but I could tell he recognized me but was confused. I told him as much as I knew and then said to rest. His eyes kept closing and he was fighting to stay awake, I told him to just sleep and I’d be there when he woke up. “I love you Sunshine, I’m going to go home to change, I’ve been here all night, I’ll check on Kristofer and then I’ll be back OK?” and he nodded and tried to smile.

The nurse seemed surprised at my calmness, “You did really well.” I thought he didn’t look that bad, from the way she had talked I didn’t know what to expect but his arms weren’t broken, his face was fine, there wasn’t a scratch on him; I had expected horrible road rash (when a motorcycle rider has an accident they usually lose a lot of skin etc from rolling on the pavement). I told her I had a new born baby at home and I wanted to go home and change and maybe sleep for a few hours and asked if Victor would be ok.

She told me they were monitoring him, he was stable but critical and if his organs started to fail they would be shipping him to VGH but it was safe for me to leave for a while and if anything changed they would call me.

I went home and I can’t remember to be honest with you if I saw Kris or not or where I saw him, I know I tried but couldn’t sleep, I packed more of Kristofer’s things, and I went back to the hospital within about 4 or 5 hours. When I got back they were getting him ready to send him to VGH, Vancouver General Hospital, which is an hour and half from Chilliwack but felt like across the country to me. I asked the doctor if I could ride in the ambulance and he had said no. I was beside myself and crying when the one of the ambulance attendants came up and said that they were preparing Victor for travel and once the paperwork etc was done they would be on their way. He looked at mom and me and said, “Are you his wife.” And I said I was. He said, “I’ll come and get you when we are ready to go.” I was confused, it sounded like he meant I could ride along so I said the doctor told me I couldn’t ride in the ambulance. The attendant said, “Do you want to ride along?” and through my tears I said I did. He said, “it’s my ambulance, I say who rides and who doesn’t, but we can only take one.” And looked at my mom, she said that was Ok she would call my dad and she would drive. He was so nice, I wish I could remember his name, he patted my arm and said not to worry and just wait there, he’d come and get me when it was time to leave. He said, “Just make sure you are ready to go when I say because once we have him loaded we aren’t messing around”.

I calmed down then and mom said she would call dad and they would both drive down, he could bring my car and she would drive theirs and that way I’d have a car in Vancouver and she would ride home with my dad.

True to his word the ambulance attendant came and got me when Victor was ready. He put me in the passenger seat and told me, “You are going to ride up front with me and my partner is going to be in the back with Victor. We are going Code Red that means lights and sirens all the way. I need you to stay in your seat no matter what happens, my partner has to be able to do his job and if Victor goes into cardiac arrest or something we can’t have you getting in the way, let us do our jobs ok?” I nodded. Once they had Victor in the back the driver said, “We are going to have the lights on but I won’t use the sirens unless I have to and I’ll warn you before I put them on ok?” and he smiled, “It’ll be ok.” I guess I must have looked scared to death. When I think about it I was only 26, and my whole world had just been turned upside down, I was terrified.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

Anorexia, Cancer, and Sexual Dysfunction

After Jason was born I finished school and graduated with a B average, I had a job with the Bank of Commerce 2 weeks before grad and I put the past behind me; or so I thought, but as his 1st birthday approached I found it harder and harder to cope. Finally one day I broke down at work and my supervisor sent me home and told me to take stress leave and get help dealing with the issues of having a child and giving him up for adoption.

I don’t want to go into the details of my childhood here; my father and I have recently reconnected after not speaking for almost 20 years, I have no idea if he has seen my blog, my mom knows I have it but hasn’t read it but I don’t want to create problems for or with my folks. Suffice to say I carried issues from my childhood and refused to face them for many years. I would go to counseling and the minute they brought up my dad I would stop going, my mom tends to bury her head in the sand thinking what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. But I had migraines by the age of 9, ulcers by 10 or 11 and attempted to overdose on pills and cheap red wine when I was about 13. The night I took all the pills I threw up and that is why I didn’t succeed and ended up just sleeping the whole day the next day. I know they knew I had tried to kill myself because after that the booze was locked up, the sharp knives went missing and the pills were moved but no one said anything to me.

I started to diet immediately after having Jason and ended up being anorexic from the age of about 19 until I was in my early thirties. I would weigh myself 20 or more times a day, if I was up a pound I would take diuretics, if I ate I would take laxatives, I would starve myself for days at a time and kept very accurate tabulations of my caloric intake and my daily a.m. and p.m. weight. I screwed up my metabolism so badly that I could gain 8 lbs just from eating a decent meal. My emotions could be erratic, as were my periods. I also carried with me an irrational fear that I would never have another child; that I had my one chance to have a child and blown it; then at the age of 21 my pap smear came back with cancer cells and over the course of the next 5 years I went for pap smears every 3 months and they performed various procedures in an attempt to keep the cancer under control to allow me time to have another baby.

I didn’t realize it at the time but looking back at pictures and from the attention I got from men I gather I was a fairly attractive woman, tall, slim with a big smile and witty sense of humor; I was asked out a lot and had developed a confident persona but the only thing I was confident about was my sexual prowess. I knew how to please a man, Wayne had taught me well and I used my skills to my advantage. I had several long term loving relationships but it didn’t matter what the man tried I never had an orgasm during sex; I just shut down, I felt nothing. I knew I could have orgasms, I gave them to myself all the time but whenever I got even close with a man a switch when off and I would go numb.

As insecure as I felt about my appearance I was confident in my abilities and wasn’t afraid to try new things and take a chance. I had an “it doesn’t hurt to try” attitude about most everything. When the bank sent out a notice looking for people to join the “On-Line team” (a team of up to 12 people who went from branch to branch throughout BC converting branches to an on-line banking system) I applied. That’s how old I am, I worked in banks BEFORE computers!!! Bonnie the supervisor hired me because, “I can’t believe you had the audacity to apply, you have practically none of the qualifications and will be the youngest on the team, but I like your spunk so I’ll give you a try.”

I turned 21 the week I started with the on-line team and had been dating a real estate agent from Chilliwack. He had pursued me for quite a while before I gave in and I was starting to really care for him by then; it was an exciting time in my life. We celebrated my birthday at a Greek restaurant and my real estate agent was there along with over a dozen friends. There was a table of two men sitting enjoying watching the revelers at our table and decided to send me a tray of about 8 different liquors, I was instructed to sample them all and they would buy me the one I preferred. I never back down from a challenge and did as I was told. Then I went around buying birthday kisses with pieces of birthday cake and at the end of the night I danced with the waiter and people threw plates at our feet. The dancing started because I had been making a big production of stuffing napkins down my top in order to look bigger busted, I guess the waiter had been counting the napkins and when I got to 7 he grabbed my hand and said, “Come, we are going to do the dance of the 7 napkins”. He took me out in the middle of the restaurant and started pulling napkins from my blouse, first the neck and then from between the buttons, and I stopped him and pulled the last two out myself. The whole restaurant was clapping and cheering. As we walked to his car my real estate agent said, “I thought you were shy”.

I put my furniture in storage and lived out of a suitcase for the next 10 months, it was a wonderful experience; lots of drinking and partying. Twelve of us between the ages of 21 and 34 spent the 2 months of summer in the Okanogan, I had an expense account that covered everything and I had a boyfriend at home whenever I made it back which was about every 2nd weekend. The real estate agent and I joined a motorcycle club, he was president and I was social director so we were very involved in a lot of activities like Poker Runs, fund raisers, dances etc. I wrote a monthly newsletter that went out to the membership and he and I were a “couple” in everyone’s eyes and every weekend I was home we were together.

I was good at catering to a man’s needs in every area but I didn’t take any shit from anyone either, if the guy didn’t treat me right or if he was too controlling I would give him a chance or two, voice my concerns rationally and then if nothing happened I would dump him and moved on to the next one. Once my mind was made up it was over, it was over. And that is what happened when I met Victor just as I was turning 22. After I got off the road it became apparent my real estate agent wasn’t seeing just me and told me he had plans to go on a month’s vacation with another woman. I told him that when he got back from his vacation he had better have made a decision, either he was committed to me or I was not seeing him any more. By the time he got back and had decided he was ready to commit I had met Victor and was moving to Ontario.

Victor was a French Canadian in the Armed Forces, when I told my dad he had asked me out my dad said, “There’s no way my daughter is dating a French Canadian.” I thought he was serious and then he said, “Because they fight with their feet, eat with their hands and fuck with their face and no daughter of mine is going to date one.” And he was right. Victor was charming and treated me like a lady, came to pick me up for our first date dressed in dress slacks and a sports jacket, he was very good looking, with the bluest blue eyes, a dimple in his chin, of course short hair being in the army, he had a broken nose that just added to his “bad boy” image. He wasn’t tall, about 5’10”, my height and he had a natural body builder type frame, and he just had a devilish way about him. He was a bar room brawler, every body’s buddy, lady’s man, man’s man, sensitive, romantic, and the best damn dancer I’ve seen before or since him. This man could jive with 3 women at one time and never miss a beat. He had no trouble getting women and was a little perplexed that I didn’t fall into bed with him and I think that is what kept him calling me.

The first time we had sex he did not give up until I had an orgasm. We had been dating about a month when he was transferred to the army base in Borden, Ontario and said, “If I thought you’d come I’d ask you to come with me.” And my reply had been, “If I thought you’d ask I would probably go.” So I went into work the next day and requested a transfer to our branch in Borden, thinking it could take up to a year to come through and we would just see how long this long distance relationship would last. The last day of work for him fell on a Thursday and he had plans for one last piss up with his buddies and asked me to drop by in the morning the next day and have a coffee with him before I went to work. At the bank we alternated coming in late on Friday because we were open until 6 and it was my Friday to start work at 10 am. Victor lived with Pierre; his best buddy and a real lady killer; or so he fancied himself to be anyway.

I got to their place about 8:30 and when I walked in the house I immediately noticed the woman’s shoes by the door and laughed to myself, “Oh Pierre, you got lucky again.” the house was silent except for the tsk tsk tsk of the needle on the stereo hitting the end of a record. I went over shut the stereo off and put the needle arm in the cradle. The coffee table had an empty bottle of wine on it, cigarettes stubs with bright pink lipstick on the filters and stubs of candles long since dead. In the corner was the gift I had wrapped the two nights before for my parents anniversary that we were celebrating tonight with dinner out and some dancing. I went in the kitchen and plugged in the kettle and then made me way down the hallway to wake Victor up by snuggling into bed. Pierre’s room was across the hall from Victor’s and I could see his door was open, I expected to see a woman passed out in his bed but it was empty. Victor’s bedroom door stuck so when I pushed it opened with a “thung” and my eyes scanned the room. Two near empty glasses of red wine, the empty bottle beside them on the dresser, two candles that were at the end of their life had dripped wax down the sides of the wine bottles that held them. I could see Victor’s dark hair peeking out from under the covers at the top of the bed and there was a headless lump laying beside him. I said in a sing song voice, “Victor dear, honey, I’m here”. He didn’t move but the headless lump sprang upright. Her naked massive tits flopped over the covers, her makeup smeared, hair disheveled, and with her eyes squinting she looked at me and said, “Oh fuck, the shits gonna hit the fan now.” And rolled over and went back to being a headless lump under the covers beside Victor. I gave his face a light slap and said one more time in my normal voice, “Victor I am here, wake up.” When he rolled over I knew I had better get out of there before I lost control and started wailing on him, and her.

I pulled the kettle out of the wall by throwing it the length of the house, ripped apart the gift for my folks and threw anything else I could lift and slammed the door. I left rubber in all 4 gears to the corner and up the next street. When I walked through the door to my apartment the phone was ringing and I let it, poured myself a stiff rye and water and called the bank to say I had come down with something and wouldn’t be in. the phone kept ringing and I kept ignoring it, then there was a knock at my door. I asked who it was and it was him, I told him to go away. He begged me to open the door and just talk to him for a minute. I opened the door, he looked like hell and his face was red like he’d been going down on her all night, then he reached for me and I told him to keep his hands off me and I wouldn’t talk to him until he washed his face because I knew where it had been. he looked so sorry and I was far too mad to talk so I told him to go home, give me some time and maybe I would talk to him later. After a few hours I called and said I was coming over, he had stripped his bed and was washing the bedding, had cleaned the house and was so happy to see me. He said he was sorry, got drunk and screwed up, no excuses, just that he wouldn’t do it again. I had my holidays booked, we were to be leaving in 3 days so I said I would still go on vacation with him and see how things went.

I drove back east with him, had a 2 week vacation and then flew home. The first day back at work I was told I was to start at the Borden branch on the following Monday. I panicked, what if he didn’t still want me to come? Did I love him that much? Was I prepared to make that kind of commitment? But I called him and he was thrilled. Two days later my dad walked in the bank with a goofy look on his face, and then a hand came up over the counter and it held a bouquet of flowers; it was Victor, my dad had picked him up from the airport.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck