the triage queen strikes again

The Internet is a really interesting thing. And while for the most part the Internet greatly adds to my quality of life, there are times it gets a little odd.


Case in point:


The FX spent last night in the cardiac evaluation unit of my hospital. He called me yesterday to tell me he was having chest pains and to ask my advice on what to do. I asked him a few questions and then told him that my advice was to Go Straight To The ER. He didn't want to do that. I asked him a few more questions and then repeated the Go Straight To The ER advice. He clung to the heartburn theory. I told him to take some Mylanta and if it didn't get any better ASAP to Go Straight To The ER, or, if he still felt stubborn, to go have an EKG done at our doctor's office at the very least. He took both the Mylanta and the EKG advice, and then called me later leaving the doctor's office to tell me that the doctor had told him to Go Straight To The ER. Jeez. It's not like this was the first chest pain I've ever seen. I'm about at the point where I can triage in my sleep.


Bottom line - he called me at ten last night to tell me that they were admitting him for observation. Labs and EKG looked okay, but he's got some crappy risk factors and some health issues that are not in his favor. He called me from his room, on his cell phone, with his laptop by his side.


And this is where the weirdness started. For the entire duration of our marriage, I was the one who communicated. I kept in touch with his family, I bought his mother's birthday and Mother's Day gifts, I called to let people know when anything especially good (or bad) happened. Even when we lived thirty minutes away from them, I was the one who took the kids to visit, and I was the one who built really solid relationships with his family - relationships I am assured continue to this day, despite the change in our marital status. As his mother said to me last week, "I'm almost 70 years old. You are my daughter. I'm not about to shake things up now." As happy as I was to hear that, it put me in a very weird spot last night.


See, I really felt that it was his responsibility to let his family know what was going on. Not mine. His. I told the kids, because Surfer Dude put on his big bionic snooping ears while we were on the phone at one point and I had to come clean. But the rest of his family - no matter how dear to me - needed to be told by him, as far as I was concerned. He had his phone. He had his laptop. California is two hours behind us. He had the means and he had opportunity.


And he didn't utilize either. But he did post a status update on Facebook, which his sister saw. (This is the sister who is the closest thing to a sister I'll ever have. And she and I are on the same page about virtually everything FX related). She then told his mom who posted her own status update, saying basically how fricking dysfunctional is this, that I have to hear this on Facebook? His sister and I then exchanged private messages where I said, Hey, I love you all to bits, but this is HIS responsibility. (The whole Facebook thing is weird to start with. Two of his sisters just joined, and they pulled his mom in. They all three friended me, which is great. But they also all three friended him, which is weird. It's a thin line in terms of privacy between the FX and I and I'm not sure what I think of it. When his mom sent me a friendship request, I accepted it, but made sure she knew that I might say things about her son from time to time that she might not be thrilled with).


He's fine, anyway. No cardiac issues, just a more pressing need to address some health problems he has been in deep denial over. And I'm sure he's talked to his mom by now and all is well. But I spent part of today feeling like I should feel guilty that I didn't take care of this for him and then feeling bad because I couldn't even make myself feel guilty about it. It's not my job anymore. He's a big boy. He can run interference for himself.


One little note before I move on - and this has absolutely nothing to do with the Internet in any way, shape or form. I do believe that the FX is a much nicer and more trusting person than I am. Either that or he's self-absorbed to the point of being comatose. Because if the situation had been reversed, there would have been no way in hell you would have gotten me into that ER. I would've driven to the next hospital thirty minutes over, because I don't think he fully understood what hostile territory he was venturing into. I'm not saying his medical care wasn't top notch. But these are the people who have seen me coping on a day in and day out basis over the last year, the people who have become a huge part of my life, and let me just say that he doesn't have many fans there. When I mentioned to my boss during my review that he had called asking for advice on his chest pain, she said "What did you tell him to do? Eat a hot dog and go mow the lawn?"


Back to the Internet, I've wondered today how we ever gathered information in the dark ages pre-web. I tried an experiment today. I casually asked a couple of people if they knew hot tax fix-it guy, including one of my friends who I was sure would. She didn't. But now she wants to meet him too. Sigh. (This is not a huge town, but it's not tiny, either). I'm leery of asking too many people since a) it's not my style and b) I'd be guaranteed a big ol' butt bite somehow. So I got on-line, and in about fifteen minutes nailed down the info I wanted.


In the right age range.


Single. And looking.


And a picture proving that my eyes were working just fine yesterday even as my lungs struggled for air.


Gotta love those open social websites.


Damn the Internet.