I made that promise to Hubby on April 2, 1984 and again on September 28, 2002. I meant it when I said it in front of the judge (1984) and again when I said it in front of the priest (2002). I love him with all my heart and I’ve stood by him through all the things that have happened to us. And you wouldn’t believe the stuff we’ve been through. But that’s a blog for another day.
I know I made the promise and I’ve stood by it for (almost) 24 years. But today that promise is twanging on my last nerve. Rather, Hubby is twanging on my last nerve. I want him to get better NOW!! I’ve determined that three days at home with a sick hubby should be considered cruel and unusual punishment. He had a fever, chills, and body aches but doesn’t want to go to the doctor. He isn’t hungry when I ask him if he wants something to eat but two minutes later he’s asking me if I’ll fix him something to eat. He’s gone through three boxes of tissues in three days. He’s so congested that he can’t really blow his nose – so he’s sniffling every second or third breath and for some reason that’s really annoying me. He’s moving slower than a little old lady and complaining with each step about what body part hurts the most. If I have to watch one more cheesy Sci-Fi Channel movie, I’m going to scream.
I’m trying to be understanding and sympathetic. I’m making the runs to the store to get the extra vitamin water and more tissues. Buying the Sudafed and the special cough drops that don’t affect his acid reflux. Fixing him something to eat when he finally decides he’s hungry. He sleeps all day and is wandering the house all night. If he’s up wandering around the house, the dogs are up and wanting Mommy to be up too. I really am trying to be the good wife because the man was a complete saint when I had my surgery last April and I want to repay that kindness. That’s why I haven’t said any of the above things to him . . . I’m sorry that you are the ones I’m whining to.
And if I end up with whatever bug he has, I’m going to be really mad . . .