Friday, September 21, 2018

32...


Not how old I am. Duh. (Not even how old TLC is…she passed that age a couple years back…YIKES.)

Eight more reasons "Why I love My Sweet Hubby" (aka MSH) will now...this month of September posts... make it 32! Heading to 40...

So this week I’ve been thinking about our past and current health issues. For example...MSH’s heart. Which is good, I believe! But always a concern—after two heart attacks. Other than back surgery 33 years ago which was successful, he's not been a sickie-kind-o'-guy.  My health? Hmmm. Asthma as a child. Bad asthma. Scary asthma. Horrid periods/cramps. Yuck. Acne. TERRIBLE acne. Weight issues. Stomach issues. Emergency C-section with TLC. Hysterectomy at age 31. Breast cancer with a modified radical mastectomy of my left breast at age 40. Chemo. Twisted intestines (Clearly—more stomach issues.) Sudden deafness in my left ear (10 years ago). 100% of my hearing gone. Forever. Can’t wear a hearing aide. My first broken bone at age 55...I fell and broke my arm in our shower.

I could go on and on. And on. Indefinitely. To infinity and beyond.  Sadly. At this point? Today? As I type this? Pain. Lots o’ pain in my back. Knees. Hips. (Who would’ve guessed I could lose 45 pounds and still have major trouble walking without looking like I’m 94—instead of 64? Not moi.)

About three weeks ago, I woke up one morning with a “crick” in my neck. I say neck. More like my upper right shoulder near my neck. Annoying, mostly. I tried heat. LOTS OF HEAT. Wednesday morning I woke up and screamed to MSH:

“I cannot take this pain another day! I’m calling a chiropractor!”

I’ve only been to one other chiropractor in my life. Not because I don’t believe in them. I have VERY SMART friends who swear by their chiropractors! Just because I’ve never felt I was desperate for their services. Massage therapy has been my friend—in terms of treating back and leg pain. Neck and shoulder pain. Etc.

I called the office of a man who has been in our town for many, many years. Someone I knew many of my friends went to and loved. I could get in at 9:30. I went. I liked him. He began treatment. Today was my third day of letting two FABULOUS machines work on my neck/shoulders/back. He also did what I believe is called “manipulation.” Whatever it’s called? I like it. It seems to be helping.

All of this has caused me to realize I am HUGELY HIGH MAINTENANCE. Have been most of my life. I’m extremely sorry about this. Embarrassed. Frustrated and stressed. It is what it is.

Here are Eight More Things I ADORE about My Low-Maintenance Hubby:



25. When I’m sick? With anything? From a cold to something very serious like cancer? He’s The Best Nurse On This Planet. He gets me whatever I want. Food. Drink. Meds. Whatever.

26. When I went through my year-long cancer ordeal? He insisted on being the only person that could/would take me to every doctor’s appointment. Every labwork day. Every chemo treatment. Many friends offered to help us out with this. Fortunately, because he was THE BOSS at his job, he could do it and he wanted to do it. I knew how lucky I was then. I continue to know how lucky I am now.

27. When he’s sick? With a cold, flu, etc.? He tries truly hard not to be too whiny and needy. He’s perfectly content with suffering in silence. All I want to ever do is try to make up for the millions of hours he’s spent caring for me! He makes it hard.

28. When he had his first heart attack? He was grateful for his life and the treatment he got and did exactly what the doctor ordered him to do. He lost weight. He ate healthier. He exercised.

29. When he had his second heart attack? And I was racing to our ER (17 miles away and this was at 10:00 on a Saturday night—dealing with bad, cold weather), he was calmly telling me what to say to each of his five children. "Tell them I love them. I’m proud of them." I was not nice. I kept repeating—loudly and over and over: STOP IT. You aren’t going ANYWHERE. We all need you. Just stop. I refuse to listen to this.” Sigh. In my defense? I was horribly frightened. Selfishly petrified. I could not lose My Sweet Hubby! (Yippee and Thank My God Almighty And His Son Jesus Christ—I didn’t!)

30. At the hospital, post second heart attack, while waiting for the nurses to get an ambulance to take him to a Ft. Worth hospital for more extensive tests and treatment (They couldn’t call a helicopter because of the weather. He’d told me years ago: "If I ever need a helicopter? Say NO. I don’t want one. They’re expensive. Even with insurance." Oh, MSH. You are too much.), he was overly worried about his dog, Buddy Boo Bear. Now it’s 2:00 a.m. We’ve realized I can’t go with him in the ambulance and I can’t even follow him to Ft. Worth because I’ve got to go take care of Buddy Bear and lock up our home. Get some clothes, money, etc. If Buddy could have come with me? MSH would have been ECSTATIC.

31. When his children and grandchildren are sick? He’s praying. He’s praying as hard and fast and long as he can. He’s telling me: I wish I could trade places with them.

32. When he gets a bad cold or flu now? At his age? It lingers FOREVER. He never complains. Well, he might point out to you how long he’s been sick. Not in an annoying way. He doesn’t want sympathy. He isn’t going to ask for much. Not even prayers. God love him.

I'm grateful for every second I have with MSH. (Yes, sometimes I might be cranky-ish and not act like it. But I AM GRATEFUL.) If you get sick? Be a nice and sweet patient, 'kay?

Happy Weekend, Dearest Friends Everywhere!

ELC

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