When Emily visits her doctor, she receives tragic news regarding her health. Emily is aware that her life is about to change and that she must inform her husband, Tyler. However, his reaction is inappropriate.
The first thing I noticed was the doctor’s voice on the other end of the phone, a steady, clinical tone delivering news that would change my life forever.
“I need you to come in, Emily,” Dr. Duncan said grimly.
This led to my visit with him today.
“Emily, can I just be real with you?” Dr. Duncan asked.
“Of course,” I replied, despite the fact that my hands were shaking violently.
I was more nervous than anything. After weeks of feeling bad, I knew something was wrong. This was the defining moment. Dr. Duncan was going to tell me the findings of all the tests we’d been running.
“Give it to me straight, Doc,” I said. “I’d rather know now than keep pretending that everything is fine.”
“Emily, you have Charcot-Marie-Tooth dise:ase. It’s a rare neurological disorder that affects motor skills. Over time, you may find that walking will become more challenging, and it’s likely that you’ll need some form of mobility support.”
“What is it?” I asked. “Please, explain more. Help me understand. Please…”
Dr. Duncan smiled sadly.
“Sure, Emily,” he said. “To put it simply, this dise:ase is a group of inherited disorders that cause nerve da:ma:ge. This da:ma:ge mostly affects arms and legs, which is why I need you to know that loss of mobility is high.”
I sat there, paralyzed and scarcely able to understand the words. I was 29. I assumed I had all the time in the world. I wanted children, but how could I consider it now? When was it possible that I might be wheelchair bound?
I didn’t know how to handle it. The reality of having to tell my husband, Tyler, struck me even harder.
How will he react? What if he can’t handle it?
I left the doctor’s office and went for a walk in the park. I wanted to feel the fresh air on my face. I wanted to walk through the grass and kick the leaves. I wanted to do basic things that could be taken away from me in the coming months or years ahead.
That night, I finally got up the courage to tell him. I waited till after dinner, having prepared his favorite dish, in the hopes of catching him in a relaxed mood. But, as I poured my heart out to him, he was half-watching a football game on television.
“Tyler, could you turn that off for a second?” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. “I really need to talk to you about something important, darling.”
He rolled his eyes and picked up the remote with one hand while holding his beer can in the other.
“Alright, Em, what’s so serious?” he asked.
I took a deep breath.
“I went to the doctor last week, and we’ve been running tests. I just haven’t been feeling good, but I couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong. I went back to Dr. Duncan today, and we found something.”
“What?” he asked. “What did you find? What’s wrong?”
“It’s a neurological condition, and he said that it might make it harder for me to walk in the future,” I swallowed, bracing myself.
“Eventually, I might not be able to walk at all.”
My husband’s expression froze, and for a brief time, I believed I saw concern in his eyes. But then something changed, a glimpse of something I hadn’t seen before.
Disgust.
“Are you kidding me?” he scoffed, putting down his can on the coffee table. “Is this an attention thing, Emily?”
“No,” I said simply.
We both remained quiet for a bit.
“So… you’re just… you’re going to be some invalid that I have to take care of? Push you around on a wheelchair?”
His words sliced into me like a knife. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Tyler, I don’t know if it’ll be that bad. We can meet with the doctor together and find out more. We can see how long I have before I should expect symptoms. I’m sure that there are treatments I can try…”
He held up his hand.
“Stop, Emily,” he said. “I didn’t sign up to be anyone’s nurse. I married someone who was fun and vibrant. A woman who would dance at bars and pubs until it was closing time. I didn’t marry someone who’s just going to sit at home all day.”
“You’d leave me because I’m sick?” I asked, barely able to get the words out.
My voice sounded odd, hollow, and alien.
“Don’t twist this around on me,” he snapped. “You know what I mean. I have needs too, Emily. I need a real partner. I’m not going to stick around just to take care of you.”
He went upstairs, and I did not see him for the rest of the night. Instead, I went into the guest room and wept myself to sleep.
Honestly, was this the man I married? Tyler had never disappointed me before, but now? This was… unforgivable.
The next morning, he packed his luggage and left a note on the kitchen counter.
Need some time to think.
That was it. No goodbye, no apologies. Nothing.
I didn’t hear from him for several days. It seemed as if he had abruptly removed me from his life.
I tried to divert myself, to cope, but everything in the house reminded me of the life I thought we were creating together. I started packing some of Tyler’s belongings away.
“So, where is he now?” my sister, Audrey, asked when she visited me.
“I have no idea,” I said, opening the box of chocolates she had brought. “I texted his brother to see if he was there, but Kevin said that he hadn’t seen or heard from him.”
“Tell me that you’re not trying to make things work with him, Emily,” Audrey said. “Because I won’t allow it.”
“I’m not,” I said. “It’s just that I want to see him to end this. I want him to know how much he has hurt and disappointed me. I want him to hear it from my lips.”
Audrey nodded.
“Look, whatever happens, I’ve got you. Our family has you,” she said, smiling.
Later that day, while I sat in bed, finishing the remaining chocolates from the box, I looked through my phone. Nothing could have prepared me for what I experienced.
There, on public display, I noticed a post that made my stomach drop. Tyler was tagged in a friend’s photo, smiling on the beach with a blonde woman leaning against him and both of them holding cocktails.
He appeared cheerful. Carefree. It was as if I were already a distant memory to him.
That night, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.
The fury, the anguish, the reality of his illness… it was all so overwhelming. But suddenly, deep within me, something changed.
I was finished crying. I was done feeling horrible. I was done feeling like a victim in my own life. I had no idea what would happen next, but whatever it was, I was determined to tackle it on my own terms.
Then, the unexpected occurred.
A week after Tyler departed, my doctor called, seeming embarrassed and sorry.
“Emily, I’m so sorry. We’ve made a terrible mistake!” Dr. Duncan said.
“What? What do you mean?” I asked.
“It turns out that your test results were mixed up with another patient’s. You’re healthy. We just need to focus on your calcium levels.”
“What?” I repeated.
“You’re okay. You’re better than okay! And listen, I understand how traumatic the past two weeks have been. So, I’m going to offer you free counseling sessions until you feel okay. I can’t imagine your mental state. If you want it, I’ll do the referral and take care of everything else.”
I struggled to trust what I was hearing.
Relief flooded over me, saturating my senses, but it was soon replaced by something else.
A simmering, white-hot anger.
Tyler had abandoned me over nothing. All of the sorrow and heartbreak had been unnecessary. What did that reveal about him?
I hung up, having previously scheduled an appointment with Dr. Duncan to address my calcium issues. I felt an odd combination of freedom and clarity. This was more than just about my health.
My husband had revealed to me who he really was, and there was no turning back. I envisioned him sitting on the beach, gazing at the water and doing anything but care about me.
About two weeks later, my life took another turn.
My grandma went away, leaving Audrey and me with everything she owned. Before I knew it, I had received a hefty inheritance in my bank account.
My grandmother had always been there for Audrey and me, encouraging us to live our lives the way we wanted. With this money, I could finally break free from the life I had been holding to. I wasn’t only healthy. I was independent. I have the resources to create an altogether unique life for myself.
Without Tyler.
Tyler returned creeping, as if on cue.
One evening, there came a knock at my door. I opened it to see a disheveled Tyler clutching a half-wilted bunch of grocery store flowers. He managed a guilty look, which he presumably hoped would melt my heart.
Instead, I just rolled my eyes.
“Em,” he started. “Can we talk?”
“What would you possibly have to say to me?” I asked.
He cleared his throat.
“Look, I panicked. I thought… I thought you’d be sick forever, and I didn’t know how to handle it. But I love you.”
“You mean you love me? Or you love that you heard about my grandmother’s inheritance?”
His face lost its color.
“I don’t care about money, Emily. I just missed you.”
“Go back to the blonde on the beach,” I said.
I took a step back, letting him stumble over his words as he attempted to explain himself. When he finally halted, I rolled my eyes again.
“Do you remember what you said to me that night you left? About needing a vibrant wife? Yeah… nope. That’s not me.”
I opened the door wider, motioning for him to leave.
“I’ll send over the divorce papers. I’ll send them to your office.”
Over the next few months, I poured myself into the projects I’d always dreamed of pursuing. I traveled, started painting, and made new friends. Life was going to be better now, without Tyler and his d.e.a.d weight.
