For the past several days, I have been dealing with a husband in severe pain from osteoarthritis, plantar fasciitis, and back spasms.
I have driven him to Urgent Care, picked up prescriptions, provided him with a walking stick and a cane, set up a heating pad, researched his conditions on the computer, talked him through his exercises, and more. I wish I could do all this without getting cranky. I wish he would follow my advice more, especially when I tell him to see a doctor. But sometimes he’s such a guy.
What I have been doing for him is nothing – at all – compared to what he did for me and how he supported me when I had my last breakdown, which lasted several years. He did everything. Shopping, pet care, cooking, paying bills, earning a paycheck. Not to mention loving me through the despair, irrational thinking, sobbing uncontrollably, immobilization, and all the rest.
He really took that whole “in sickness and in health” thing to heart. Now it’s my turn to do likewise.
I am completely out of spoons. I will carry on anyway. He deserves it.