It has now been 12 weeks since my husband died from this insidious disease. Other people are getting on with their lives, the dinners don't appear at the door anymore, the phone doesn't ring. There are no more cards or flowers being delivered. Once the kids are settled in bed, (they now need me to sit with them until they fall asleep), I sit alone on the couch. The tv is on but it doesn't take away the loneliness. I am tired but I hate going to bed, it is so EMPTY. Three weeks ago I thought I was having a heart attack, I had a tightness in my chest and pain going down my left arm. I went to the local hospital emergency department, they did a heart tracer, chest x-ray and blood test - all of which came back clear for any issues with my heart. Perhaps this is just what it feels like to have a broken heart.
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