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surrounding me. I decide to hold off and place them on the rolling table next to the bed. It’s almost one in the morning, if I don’t take them now I’ll be tired in the morning when my family arrives.
    What am I waiting for? The answer to that question tickles my back, and I hop down off of the bed and spin around to see what’s touching me. His hand! Oh my God his fingers are moving! It takes me all of about two seconds to switch my focus from his wiggling fingers to his face. My prayers are finally answered. His glorious eyes meet mine and for the first time in weeks, I witness his thick full eyelashes fluttering while he struggles to focus.
    Adrenaline rushes through my body, and somehow I completely forget that he is still in a fragile state, and I pounce on him, tears flowing like the Amazon River. I kiss every part of his face that I can without disturbing the ventilator.
    “You’re awake, I can’t believe it, you’re awake you’re awake. Oh, thank you, God!” His hands wrap around my waist and pull me closer, but he surprises me by sliding them up until he’s holding my face. He shakes his head from side to side very slightly and frowns at me.
    “What? Why are you frowning? Are you in pain? Oh shit, have I hurt you?”
    He repeats the gesture and even amid my elation, I am puzzled. It doesn’t take long before fear grips me tight and I remove myself from his embrace and back up from the bed slowly, a few steps until I’m out of his reach.
    “Evan?” I whisper, my voice has taken a temporary leave of absence. “Is it…are you?” I hadn’t given any consideration to the fact that the hateful, evil Evan may be the one occupying that bed when he regained consciousness. I’d foolishly assumed it would be my husband not my monster who would return to me.
    He recognizes my fear and what happens next shocks me so fully. I don’t really grasp what he’s done until the alarms are screeching, and I see the endotracheal tube lying on the floor next to his bed! He has extubated himself!
    Nurse cranky pants barrels through the door flanked by two other equally unfriendly looking nurses. They begin speaking in Italian to him, trying to calm him, very unsuccessfully I must say. He bats them away with ease. Even after being bedridden for nearly two weeks, they are no match for him.
    He tries to say something, but it comes out as a whisper, despite his effort. Finally, I collect my wits and take a few tentative steps toward the bed to join the nurses. With no idea what they are saying, I’m still a nurse, and I can imagine they are discussing the best way to handle the situation. They have been instructed not to administer any further sedatives, that much I know. They are a little limited in what they can do to control him.
    A strong sense of deja vu hits me when his wild eyes meet mine again. He’s sitting straight up in a hospital bed distraught, surrounded by strangers. The only thing missing is his voice yelling my name. His voice isn’t necessary this time, his eyes are doing the calling and his heart is connected to mine now. Some sort of innate perception reveals that this is my Evan and not the monster.
    For the second time in less than ten minutes, I rush to him, this time unencumbered by the ventilator I leap onto his lap straddling his hips; my body molds to his and I cling to him like a drowning woman to a lifesaver in the ocean. His embrace is no less desperate, he holds me fiercely until I gasp for breath.
    When he loosens his grip slightly, I take my first real breath in two weeks. A breath full of relief and hope and gratitude to God for giving me the best Christmas gift I will ever receive, my husband.

Nothing can compare to the feelings coursing through my body and mind right now. I had faith this moment would come, I prayed for it, begged for it, but the reality is indescribable. Suspended in time, we hold each other until that’s no longer satisfactory, and we begin to touch one another