I just got out of the hospital about a week ago- nothing too serious but scary enough to make me wake up a little bit more. I've always been a healthy person so whenever I am feeling poorly, I don't tend to make the best patient. I don't like for anyone to wait on me hand and foot and I've never been one to readily ask for help should I need it.
This time, I needed it.
I'm still not convinced this doesn't show a sign of weakness though I will say, even when I was hunched over in the backseat after puking for the 9th time that day, I was still able to laugh about it. Someone (I forget who) happened to mention that there was a rainbow hovering over the mountain tops and without missing a beat, I proclaimed, "Awe. It must be there to welcome me into Heaven".
Funny, right? I thought so, but my husband and parents did not seem too amused at the time. (Minutes later I was puking in a plastic bag in the lobby of the ER, wishing someone would just knock me out already.)
This whole episode was a nice reminder of how marriage works, or should work. Andrew stepped up and took the whole 'in sickness and in health' completely seriously. I never doubted that he would do this, but I also never imagined him holding my IV bag while I peed in a cup, asking him kindly not to look at my backside reflection in the mirror while doing so.
Modesty has always been a strong trait in my personality.
But seriously, he was wonderful. He helped me go to the bathroom multiple times. We even had a routine. I would wake up mumbling that I had to pee (again) and he would stumble out of the nice recliner the hospital provides for family staying over (i.e. tiny chair that he often got stuck in and often woke up in pain due to the position he happened to fall asleep in), told me to sit up slowly, walked to the bathroom to prepare the toilet paper (because the dispenser was cruel and often mocked my weakness and inability to tear off more than half a square at a time), grabbed my hand and IV pole and scooted me to the bathroom as gracefully as possible.
Andrew and I have always had a special sort of language. We often find ourselves having a conversation in front of people, completely forgetting that they are there and then realizing that they are staring at us, trying to figure out what it is exactly we're talking about. Through the years, we have broadened this language into simply sharing a look towards one another and knowing exactly what the other is thinking. There were times in the hospital when I would be in so much pain, trying to mask it from everyone else in the room and all I had to do was look at him and he knew.
He always knows.
This whole episode got me thinking about life in general and how I have been living mine from day to day, just trying to get through the work week so that I can enjoy my day(s) off as they come to me. I waste so much time thinking and worrying about all of the 'stuff' I need to do and accomplish, pushing more important things onto the back burner, claiming I'll get to them when I can.
I seem to be waiting around a lot.
Waiting for my next day off so that I can clean/run errands/watch Netflix. Waiting to be able to apply for insurance again. (No, we don't have insurance so please kindly wipe that judgmental look off of your face). Waiting for our next vacation. Waiting for the right 'time' to have a baby. Waiting for that next paycheck so that I can apply a larger payment to another credit card in order to pay it off completely, turn around and apply the same payment in 2 weeks to yet another credit card. Waiting to own a home because we don't even know where we will be in the next 6 months to a year. Waiting for approval.
There is a lot of waiting in my world and it's starting to slowly suck me dry. Patience has never been a strong suit in me and though I try to take each challenge one step at a time, I often get overwhelmed and try to take everything on all at once, get discouraged and simply feel like giving up until I get another outburst of energy to try again.
It's exhausting.
And it's not easy to come up with the right solution. I don't know how to approach certain areas in my life. I worry too much about the outcome when in all reality, I know deep down I can't control others reactions or feelings towards any given thing. The last thing I ever want to do is cause someone else pain. When it used to be just me hanging out on the sidelines waiting, I seemed to be more OK with this philosophy. But now that Andrew is here beside me, it's affecting him too.
And it's affecting us.
No one seems to put this into account or maybe we haven't really given them the chance to because we're too worried about hurting them and not really focusing on the fact that we are unintentionally hurting each other.
It really does feel like it's just him and me and I truly am OK with that. I feel like this is what marriage should be. Yes, we have our own sets of friends and tons of family who we love and adore, but at the end of the day, he is the only person whom I feel truly gets and understands me.
I don't want to keep waiting around to begin my life with him.
And I don't want to keep on living from day to day without having some sort of idea or plan as to what the next step in our journey should be. We shouldn't have to mask our hopes and dreams and I'm not even sure why exactly we feel we have to. But we do just the same.
And it's not helping anybody.
I've always been a dreamer. It's pretty typical of me to take the road less traveled. I may get lost along the way but I always find myself in the end. And now, Andrew and I have each other to take care of and no matter how little or far we may stray at times, we always come back to meet again in the middle.
It might not seem like it, but we do have a plan. And it's ours and ours alone.
I know we always have each others backs. He never left my side when the poor nurse was trying to get an IV catheter in me multiple times, failing until the blessed third because I was so dehydrated. And I knew he was being protective of me without even looking at him. He helped my morphine doped up self answer the billions of questions asked over and over again by each person who entered the room. He made phone calls. He held my hand when I was scared. He asked questions of his own. He made sure I was comfortable. He tasted the broth to make sure it was vegetable and when it wasn't it, he let them know and asked them not to bring the jello or coffee anymore because he knew I couldn't have it. He went home to take care of the pets so I would have peace of mind. And he came back every night to sleep in that ratty old recliner. And when I was finally able to come home, he continued to care for me as I know he always will.
This is the real thing folks. This is what life is all about.
In sickness and in health.
This time, I needed it.
I'm still not convinced this doesn't show a sign of weakness though I will say, even when I was hunched over in the backseat after puking for the 9th time that day, I was still able to laugh about it. Someone (I forget who) happened to mention that there was a rainbow hovering over the mountain tops and without missing a beat, I proclaimed, "Awe. It must be there to welcome me into Heaven".
Funny, right? I thought so, but my husband and parents did not seem too amused at the time. (Minutes later I was puking in a plastic bag in the lobby of the ER, wishing someone would just knock me out already.)
This whole episode was a nice reminder of how marriage works, or should work. Andrew stepped up and took the whole 'in sickness and in health' completely seriously. I never doubted that he would do this, but I also never imagined him holding my IV bag while I peed in a cup, asking him kindly not to look at my backside reflection in the mirror while doing so.
Modesty has always been a strong trait in my personality.
But seriously, he was wonderful. He helped me go to the bathroom multiple times. We even had a routine. I would wake up mumbling that I had to pee (again) and he would stumble out of the nice recliner the hospital provides for family staying over (i.e. tiny chair that he often got stuck in and often woke up in pain due to the position he happened to fall asleep in), told me to sit up slowly, walked to the bathroom to prepare the toilet paper (because the dispenser was cruel and often mocked my weakness and inability to tear off more than half a square at a time), grabbed my hand and IV pole and scooted me to the bathroom as gracefully as possible.
Andrew and I have always had a special sort of language. We often find ourselves having a conversation in front of people, completely forgetting that they are there and then realizing that they are staring at us, trying to figure out what it is exactly we're talking about. Through the years, we have broadened this language into simply sharing a look towards one another and knowing exactly what the other is thinking. There were times in the hospital when I would be in so much pain, trying to mask it from everyone else in the room and all I had to do was look at him and he knew.
He always knows.
This whole episode got me thinking about life in general and how I have been living mine from day to day, just trying to get through the work week so that I can enjoy my day(s) off as they come to me. I waste so much time thinking and worrying about all of the 'stuff' I need to do and accomplish, pushing more important things onto the back burner, claiming I'll get to them when I can.
I seem to be waiting around a lot.
Waiting for my next day off so that I can clean/run errands/watch Netflix. Waiting to be able to apply for insurance again. (No, we don't have insurance so please kindly wipe that judgmental look off of your face). Waiting for our next vacation. Waiting for the right 'time' to have a baby. Waiting for that next paycheck so that I can apply a larger payment to another credit card in order to pay it off completely, turn around and apply the same payment in 2 weeks to yet another credit card. Waiting to own a home because we don't even know where we will be in the next 6 months to a year. Waiting for approval.
There is a lot of waiting in my world and it's starting to slowly suck me dry. Patience has never been a strong suit in me and though I try to take each challenge one step at a time, I often get overwhelmed and try to take everything on all at once, get discouraged and simply feel like giving up until I get another outburst of energy to try again.
It's exhausting.
And it's not easy to come up with the right solution. I don't know how to approach certain areas in my life. I worry too much about the outcome when in all reality, I know deep down I can't control others reactions or feelings towards any given thing. The last thing I ever want to do is cause someone else pain. When it used to be just me hanging out on the sidelines waiting, I seemed to be more OK with this philosophy. But now that Andrew is here beside me, it's affecting him too.
And it's affecting us.
No one seems to put this into account or maybe we haven't really given them the chance to because we're too worried about hurting them and not really focusing on the fact that we are unintentionally hurting each other.
It really does feel like it's just him and me and I truly am OK with that. I feel like this is what marriage should be. Yes, we have our own sets of friends and tons of family who we love and adore, but at the end of the day, he is the only person whom I feel truly gets and understands me.
I don't want to keep waiting around to begin my life with him.
And I don't want to keep on living from day to day without having some sort of idea or plan as to what the next step in our journey should be. We shouldn't have to mask our hopes and dreams and I'm not even sure why exactly we feel we have to. But we do just the same.
And it's not helping anybody.
I've always been a dreamer. It's pretty typical of me to take the road less traveled. I may get lost along the way but I always find myself in the end. And now, Andrew and I have each other to take care of and no matter how little or far we may stray at times, we always come back to meet again in the middle.
It might not seem like it, but we do have a plan. And it's ours and ours alone.
I know we always have each others backs. He never left my side when the poor nurse was trying to get an IV catheter in me multiple times, failing until the blessed third because I was so dehydrated. And I knew he was being protective of me without even looking at him. He helped my morphine doped up self answer the billions of questions asked over and over again by each person who entered the room. He made phone calls. He held my hand when I was scared. He asked questions of his own. He made sure I was comfortable. He tasted the broth to make sure it was vegetable and when it wasn't it, he let them know and asked them not to bring the jello or coffee anymore because he knew I couldn't have it. He went home to take care of the pets so I would have peace of mind. And he came back every night to sleep in that ratty old recliner. And when I was finally able to come home, he continued to care for me as I know he always will.
This is the real thing folks. This is what life is all about.
In sickness and in health.
No comments:
Post a Comment