My True Love

 Even though we weren't youngsters when we wed, Steve and I have been married for a long time, pushing 40 years.  We each encourage the other in our particular strong points.  He keeps me open to adventure and I keep him more healthy.  He keeps me from a gloomy outlook and I occasionally throw reality into his optimism.  I tolerate watching a suspenseful thriller with him and he can sit through a seniors-experiencing-character-building-events flick with me.  Haha!  We've learned how to live together companionably.

Having one person suddenly disabled is a challenge though.  Habits and roles have to change and that takes grace from both parties.  We've hit our stride fairly well, but that first weekend we had an unhappy disagreement on how many white board markers I "needed" from upstairs.

The thing is, some of my OCD tendencies have come more into focus now that I can't just do whatever I want to do, like make sure those blinds are hanging at the same length or that the one fading flower is pulled out of that bouquet back behind the table where the walker cannot go.  I'm constantly picking up little bits of this and that off the floor, and it's bothering me that I cannot vacuum.

Obviously I can't be putting this pickiness on someone else, so I learn to deal with it, to put it off, or to figure out a creative way to get it done myself.

Steve has been great taking care of everything that is needed:  shopping, getting meals on the table, cleaning up, patiently taking items from here to there.  (I can move well enough, but how to carry a plate with hands on the walker?)  He's had to do a lot of taxi service to PT and other appointments.  Right now this involves him getting out of the car and setting up the walker so I can get out—four times for each trip.  He even build a temporary ramp in the garage!  And just the last few days he has a therapy assignment to help that aforementioned cranky thigh figure out what it's supposed to be doing.

So this is a public thank you to My True Love.  💕