Don't leave me!

The borderline's telltale symptom:

Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment

I'm home alone, plopped on the couch, filling the void with home organization programming on HGTV. My husband, Nate, works long shifts, sometimes in the evenings, sometimes overnight.

The house is a mess  - dirty dishes piled in the sink and laundry strewn in random places throughout our rented townhome.

I'm lonely.

There's a twinge of discomfort deep in my gut. My bowels gurgle and a sharp painful cramp stabs into my belly. I hobble to the bath room. Anxiety floods my mind, my heart rate speeds up. Shaking, I sit on the toilet. Another gurgle, and a dull ache in my right lower abdomen. Could this be the onset of a life-threatening appendicitis? What if there's a cancer in my bowels and I'm ignoring the signs!

The anxiety swells into panic. I'm fighting off the need to hyperventilate as my heart pounds against my ribcage. I feel disoriented. Trembling, I rush for the phone.  I dial the number for the manufacturing plant where Nate works. A woman answers. "I need to speak with Nate," I beg, holding back tears. "He's busy." She replies flatly. You bitch! I need him! "It's an emergency!" I explained, stifling the panic in my voice. "Just a minute," she sighed.

After an eternity, a familiar voice comes through the phone. "What's up?" "There's something wrong!" I sob. "I need to go to the hospital!" He pauses. "What is it now?"  The annoyance in his voice stings. "I think I have appendicitis. It really hurts!" I wail. "Babe, we went to the hospital last week. The doctors checked you out. I can't keep leaving work like this." "Please! I'm scared. I'm telling you, something serious is going on!" ..."Alright, sit tight. I'll get there as soon as I can."

A tidal wave of relief sweeps over me as I hear the keys rustling at the door. I need him. Badly.

The hours at the emergency room inch by. The doctor politely examines my abdomen. The blood tests are normal. I'm sent home, disappointed and embarrassed.

It's very late when we get home. In bed, I cuddle up with Nate, soothed by the warmth of his body. I feel like a little girl, scared of the dark, clinging to her Daddy for comfort. Satisfied by his presence, the deep, haunting loneliness fades to a faint feeling of emptiness. Exhausted from the emotional strain of the day, I fall fast asleep in Nate's arms.