A Side of Palsy, If You Please

So...yesterday Steve was laying on the couch after he got up in the morning, and he says to me:

"I'm a little worried"
"Yeah? 'Bout what?" I said. I waited for him to say "Money" because that's mostly what I worry about these days and living at poverty level is starting to get old and plague our thoughts a lot these days. I digress....
To my surprise, he didn't lament our financial status, but instead he informed me that on Friday he had started feeling "weird"....he had a persistant headache for 3 days, and yesterday when he tried to eat a hamburger at the football game, he had to concentrate on opening his lips wide enough to eat it...and he slurped soda on himself when he tried to drink through a straw.
"Okaaaayyyyyyy" I said....not sure what to think.
"AND..." he says, "i can't whistle anymore".
"whaddya mean, you can't whistle anymore??"

So he proceeds to purse his lips together and whistle and nothing but a poof of air and spit comes out of his mouth. He had got up to take Cooper out and tried to call him back with a whistle and couldn't do it.
"AND", he said..."when i was eating my cereal for breakfast this morning, it dribbled out the right side of my mouth because I couldn't keep it in there".

Now, what you need to know about me is that when it comes to medical issues, I always assume the worse and then I'm not as devastated when it actually happens, OR I'm relieved when that's not it at all.
So at this point in our conversation, of course I come to the horrific realization that my beloved spouse has a gnarly and highly aggressive brain tumor and he will no doubt be dead in approximately 2. 5 days. I shake my thoughts away from Victor, my horribly mean and grungy boss at the bar where I will have to work until 2 am for minimum wage and crappy tips to support the kids after Steve has left us and take a deep breath and say,
"Ok. We'll make you an appointment with the doctor. It's probably just stress-related and not a big deal"

But over the next 20 minutes, my fears get the best of me as I notice that the entire right side of Steve-o's face is practically paralyzed.
His right eye doesn't blink when his left one does. His mouth is drooping on the left side. Only the left side of his face lifts up when he smiles.
So I call the doctor and find out what we should do.
And of course, since it's Saturday he says to go to the hospital.
"Can't you call ahead for us or something?"
"No"
Bastard.

So we call the O'Connors, and drop off the boys and head over to the hospital to sit and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And while we were waiting, Tyler puked all over my shirt, prompting the mentally disabled girl sitting across from me to burst out in hysterical laughter and point at me. No lie.
*sigh*
And Steve is sick with anxiety, and standing outside for fresh air, while I'm thinking of what I'll do for a day job to support the kids. Writer? Zookeeper? Janitor? *gasp* Walmart employee?
Steve comes back in and sits beside me. I chew my lip in worry. Please, don't be dying baby...I don't want to be a Walmart greeter and work at a place where it's ok to come with holes in your shirt and minus 8 teeth.

The highly un-friendly nurse comes out.

"steve......No-wock? No-wuck?"

He goes back. Without me. Because apparently bringing a baby into a hospital ER is an unspeakable sin and the amount of germs in the back would surely knock him senseless with Small Pox in 2.5 seconds flat.

Not 15 minutes later he comes back.
Diagnosis? Bells Palsy.

You can read what exactly it is HERE.

So, we're on our way to Walgreens to drop off his 3 prescriptions and he's holding his eye shut because it doesn't blink on its own and it easily dries out.

"Want me to buy you one of those eye patches when I go in Walgreens?" I ask with a snort. "Arrr, matey! I's be Steve Nowack Palsy! Evil pirate of Albany!"

He turns to me with a glare (and one hand over his eye) and growls, "NO"

"When we get home, can I take some pictures of you?" I ask.
"No! What for?"
"The blog, of course" I reply sweetly.
"No. You may not take pictures of my paralyzed face for the enjoyment of your blog readers" he said back.
I giggle.
"It's NOT funny" he pouts.
"It's a little funny" I retort.
"yeah. I guess it IS a little funny."

"But you're still not taking pictures for the blog"



So....i apologize dear readers. Only those of us who know and love steve-o well get to experience the short-lived effects of his Bells Palsy. So I've tried to simulate the visual picture with a little drawing for you, that I've posted below. Enjoy.