Thursday, February 5, 2015

Love my husband

I know, I know.  I just got done pointing out how it can be unkind to brag on one's husband.


This is a memoir, for my children, for one thing.

Also, I'm not exactly bragging.

Today my husband had to have a medical procedure.  He was such a trooper.  There he sat, on the gurney, clothed in a hospital gown (I'd never seen him in a hospital gown before) and hooked up to a host of tubes and wires, an IV in his arm and sensors everywhere.

Of course, he was smiling, cracking corny jokes, doing his uttermost to see that everyone who was lucky enough to wait on him had a better-than-average day.

I had to be the designated driver.  I saw him soon after he came out of the anesthesia, slow and gentle, only slightly disoriented, eager to stay positive.

I'm used to being the one in a hospital gown, hooked up to stuff, going through blood draws, having vitals checked.

I didn't like the sight of him as vulnerable as that.  He is the one who drives, not me.  He's the one who maintains the levity when I have to go to the hospital.  Apparently he is also the one who maintains the levity when he goes to the hospital himself.

Nothing is wrong with him.  It was a routine thing.  No worries.

Still, seeing him like that made my heart stop a second.  I love him.  I don't like to see him vulnerable.  I don't like to see his blood well up when they take the IV out.  I feel lost when I am the one who is tasked with guiding him, slightly dizzy, down the hall and out the door.  The nurse told me, "You might want to hold on to him."  Of course he was fine, but she did say that.

It is a gift to be reminded how much you love somebody when there really isn't anything wrong, when the Versed will wear off and life will be 100% normal in just a few short hours.

Ruthie loves Shawn.

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If you liked this post, you might also like:
How I met your father.

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