He’d told me the scar on his chest was from a car accident when he was very young. I’d not wondered why the line was so straight. He’d said he didn’t like talking about it, so I’d moved on.
Him not talking about it also meant that he’d not explained how he was now at increased risk of endocarditis, a heart infection that was serious if left untreated.
If left ignored, while pretending to your wife you have the flu, it could be fatal.
For the next thirty-six hours, they pumped Leo full of antibiotics. I spent most of that time drifting from his bedside to home and back like a zombie. My friends forced the odd cereal bar or piece of toast in my hand. I would stare at the food, wondering how on earth I was supposed to eat when everything turned to dirt in my mouth, until I remembered that it wasn’t just me now, and I’d try to swallow it past the block of concrete lodged in my chest.
I finally fell asleep on the sofa, the morning of the second day, only to be roused by Shay a few hours later.
‘He’s awake.’
It was another two days before we were able to talk about it.
I sat beside Leo, his face shadowed with hollows, skin tone how I imagined a corpse would appear before the funeral make-up, an IV drip in his hand, surrounded by machines and monitors, the smell of sickness ripe in the air, and I tried not to throttle him. Needless to say, I was an emotional shambles.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
He slowly, painfully, twisted his head to look at me. ‘I couldn’t bear to spoil it all. The chances were it wouldn’t become a thing. I was going to tell you. Of course I would have.’ He had to stop to catch his breath before continuing. ‘I just kept convincing myself to enjoy one more day without it being tainted by something that would probably never be an issue.’
‘You lied to me,’ I said, doing my best to sound supportive and sympathetic, while simultaneously wanting to stab him with the thermometer. ‘Can you imagine how I felt when the doctor told me those vitamin supplements you take are warfarin? And when I asked him whether the injuries from the car crash would have any impact… I’m your wife, Leo. This is absolutely all about you right now, but if I’d known, I could have taken you to the doctor a week ago. You almost died.’
You still could, I thought, but knew it wouldn’t do any good to say it out loud. ‘I almost lost you because you kept this a secret.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he rasped. ‘I’m a selfish coward. After getting diagnosed, I had so many years of being treated as weak, pathetic. I couldn’t bear to be pitied by you as well.’
‘That’s why the rushed wedding. The grand gestures, the need to cram in as many “moments” as possible. Because you knew we might not have forever.’
‘No one has forever, Mary. I’m just more aware of it than most.’ He shifted on the bed, wincing. ‘Aren’t you glad you got all that time free from this hanging over us? I was jealous at how you enjoyed being in love like a normal person, with no reason to worry that it might all disappear far too soon.’
‘No, Leo. No part of me is glad. When I married you, I married all of you. Not only the fun parts, or the easy bits. Even if your heart never got any worse, or needed further treatment, this is a hugely significant part of you. It dominated your entire twenties. It must have impacted how you think or act. Who you are. How could you not tell me? I feel like I never really knew you. I decided to marry you, without knowing the most important thing!’
‘You’re the most important thing to ever happen to me. And this is why I couldn’t tell you. Because if I had, every time you’d looked at me, or we made plans, every time I coughed or felt tired or had a quiet day, you’d have been thinking about it. Worrying. Watching. Waiting. Would you have even married me, if you’d known?’
‘If you thought for one second that I might not have, then it’s even worse you didn’t tell me.’ I was slowly losing the battle to remain calm and compassionate. ‘At least I would have been a tiny bit more prepared to find my husband collapsed on the bathroom floor. I would have understood what was happening, rather than feeling like the only person in the room who didn’t know why the man I share my life with is on first-name terms with a cardiologist.’
I shook my head in frustration. ‘Of course I’d still have married you. You’re still Leo. I don’t know what to do with knowing you thought it would make a difference. Except remind myself you went through a horrible thing, and the trauma means you’re not always rational about it.’
He was still for a long time. ‘How about if I’d told you there’s a 20 per cent chance I would pass this on to our children?’
What?
Those words jammed into my heart like a shard of ice, causing my whole body to break out in chills.
He struggled to pull himself up as I swayed dangerously on the chair. ‘It’s okay, there are tests they can do… They offer really good genetic counselling. Different options, if we ever decide to think about kids.’
I couldn’t speak. Could this nightmare get any worse?
‘And whatever happens now, I’m so glad we had this time together. These have been the best six months of?—’
‘I’m pregnant.’
The nurse found us, hours later, squished up in the bed together, a damp circle of tears staining the hospital gown where it covered his scarred chest.
Three days later, Leo went into cardiac arrest. The surgeons did all they could. His heart was besieged by bacteria. The long-term damage caused by his congenital heart defect made any attempt at repair like patching up a wet tissue.
Leo died on 16 March. I was five weeks pregnant.
When Kieran and Shay came to collect me from the hospital, my shock and grief erupted in a torrent of red-hot rage.
