I Almost Killed My Fiancé… He Still Married Me.

Have you ever done something so awful, you almost can’t live it down?

I have.

I almost killed my fiancé.

It happened a long time ago so I’m sure he won’t mind that I tell this story. It was one of my worst days, and the guilt still haunts me sometimes.

I could have killed my fiancé.

We were engaged to be married and living in our first apartment in the city. We were DINKIES (Dual Income, No Kids) and life was good.

Everything was going great until one morning when I decided to surprise him with breakfast in bed before work. My fiancé was always giving me little treats, so I thought it was my turn to surprise him.

I tiptoed out of bed so I wouldn’t wake him. He is a light sleeper but for some reason he stayed asleep. I made toast and a fresh fruit platter rather than our usual oatmeal. I made myself a rare cup of tea (I never drink tea) instead of my usual Cappuccino and a black coffee for him.

Then I went to wake him up.

We sat in bed feeling smug and giggly as the sun was rising through our apartment window. It was early, so the traffic was still building outside.

After ten minutes, my fiancé started acting weird.

“Honey, what did you put in my coffee?”

“Nothing.” I answered thinking the question was absurd. How could anyone get a black coffee wrong?

“I ain’t feeling so good.” He clutched his throat and started convulsing. He ran to the bathroom and was violently sick - repeatedly.

It was epic. I froze and just stood there watching him vomit. I didn’t know what else to do. When he calmed down, I checked he was breathing. Satisfied that he was okay, I ran to the kitchen to check the coffee grains and the packaging.

Maybe whatever he had, I would get soon?

It was fine and we both drank it the day before. I knew it couldn’t be the source.

I checked the fruit. The melon pieces and strawberries were fresh.

Then I remembered that I had made myself tea instead of my usual Cappuccino. I never drink tea. I dug out the box. It was old and probably stale but I never drink it so I thought it tasted okay.

“It must have been the tea!” I shouted and said some colorful words that rhyme with duck and spit to myself. I called in sick to work.

My fiancé was still vomiting, unable to talk.

Three hours later, he was still at it, and I had no clue what to do. He was turning green and clammy with a temperature of 102.

That’s when I got worried. This wasn’t the stomach flu or a virus. This was something else.

I phoned 911, and given my fiancé’s symptoms, they advised us to get to the ER immediately.

I still don’t know how I got him into my tiny car. He had to fold his long legs with his knees up with a sick bucket in his lap, retching at every turn we made. The drive seemed endless and by now dusk was claiming the city.

We arrived at the ER and a nurse greeted us. My fiancé was looking like a walking zombie by this time and a gurney was placed before him. They wheeled him behind a curtain and started poking and prodding him all over.

The vomiting carried on.

I spoke to a nurse who took notes while I told the room what had happened hours earlier. Another nurse hooked my fiancé to an IV.

“Is he allergic to anything, mam?” The room turned to me with pleading eyes.

“I don’t think so.” I answered.

“Mmmbleugh.” My fiancé vomited again, then croaked: “Tea.”

The room fell silent.

“Sir, can you say that again?” The doctor asked.

“Tea. I’m allergic to tea.” My fiancé croaked once more.

It dawned on me in that moment that I had given my fiancé food poisoning because he was allergic. It had never come up before because I never drank it.

The four medical staff looked at me with accusing eyes.

“Mam, did you give this man tea?” The doctor stared at me. “Did you know that giving someone an allergic reaction could be fatal.”

“I…. I didn’t know.” I said meekly as the room started spinning.

How could I not have known? The guilt was riding me hard.

The next thing I know is that I’m sitting in a chair with an oxygen mask.

“Mam, don’t try and talk. You fainted but you are going to be fine.”

“My..., My fiancé.” I managed.

“He’s going to be fine in a few days. We’ve pumped his stomach and given him some drugs to combat the allergic reaction. It will take a few days to return to normal, but he will recover. “

“Thank you. Can I see him?”

We stayed the night at the hospital where the medical staff kept an eye on his vitals. As he slept, I stayed awake and watched every detail of him. I wanted to drink him in just in case he decided to break our engagement. I watched his chest rise and fall as he laid in bed looking all green and yellow. It was all my fault.

He didn’t break our engagement. Instead, he forgave me and we got married.

As a trauma survivor, I don’t trust easily. It took me a long time to forgive myself for the day I almost killed the one person that saved me from myself. The man who made me believe again that I could have a life.

My name is Lizzy. I’m a trauma survivor, a wife, a mom, a teacher, and an author.

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