Square peg paralysis

My XX is not well and there is a part of me that cannot cope with it.
To say he is not well is not a fair representation of his forward movement or progress.
He is actually now home and slowly recovering from the removal of his appendix.
They have put him on a steady drip of medication to stave off infections following the surgery.

When I pick up the phone to speak with him and my mother, a part of me is engaged and willing myself to ask sensible questions, and another part of me is removed and unable to form the right vowels and syllables. You are my XX. You don’t get sick. You don’t get weak. That is commonplace for others, but not for you.

I want to apologize to him that I am semi-absent, that as a shadow I can only articulate half-sentiments and half-thoughts when underneath the hissing silence I am afraid, I care, and I wish for his immediate recovery.