I sit at home tonight alone listening to the sounds of silence.
The two pull chains of the living room fan dance to a slow rhythm of a unheard song.
The air conditioner kicks on occasionally but does nothing to muffle the tinnitus screaming in my ears.
Two days ago these things would not have mattered. I would not have noticed them.
My wife was laying on the couch reading aloud bits and pieces of articles or opinions that she'd gleaned from some source or another.
But not tonight.
Yesterday, when I got in from work she asked about my day as usual.
It had been a run-of-the-mill kind of day - installing dryer and range outlets, a few light fixtures - nothing to write home or blog about.
She started sobbing uncontrollably. Deep gut-wrenching sobs that rip the heart out of an unexpecting observer.
Cut to the chase
I took my wife to the ER at the VA in STL.
She had been diagnosed some time ago with a form of depression the name of which escapes me at the moment. She is also passively suicidal.
From the time we got there until I got back in the truck to go home was no more than half an hour. It was the quickest ER visit is ever had.
When they called her back for vitals, I went with her. The nurse was asking questions which she was not able to answer due to her crying. Eventually he just started asking me about details.
I went back into the waiting room for a few minutes and then saw her again after she had been assessed. She wanted to sleep so I left.
She called me about 9:30 last night and said she was being transported to another facility. That was the last I heard from her.
So it's been quiet here. And lonely.
Even the cats are subdued.
Image by Leroy_Skalstad