Really, truly, sometimes -- despite the hassles of my medical mystery -- I think I'm really blessed.
And inevitably, it involves either my husband or my daughter, or both.
This time, it's my husband.
We had a typical weekend, in other words way too much activity for me. Sunday was particularly bad because even though Ellie went on a playdate at someone else's house that we didn't have to attend (yay!), there was much to be done at home before picking Ellie up and taking her to a birthday party for a classmate.
Essentially, I helped Scott bake challah to bring with tonight for an erev Rosh Hashana dinner some friends invited us to, while he tried to get a new shrub planted, which also involved pruning a nearby tree and digging up the mostly dead smoke tree the shrub (a Rose of Sharon) was replacing. My job was essentially to get the oven turned on at a specific time after giving the dough time to rise in the oven, and then letting Scott know when the challah had been in the oven for 20 minutes so he could come check it. Not too physically taxing in any sense, but it did mean that I couldn't go take a nap that I needed. (We both really wanted to get the shrub planted so it didn't have to spend another week wilting on our patio in a small pot.)
Then the birthday party was at a pretty cool park, but instead of the rain the parents throwing the party feared, we ended up with 90 degree temps and lots of sun. And I tend to wilt under those conditions.
By the time we got home at 5 p.m., I felt like a zombie. We'd stopped for food on the way home because somehow, Ellie had missed lunch. (So had I, but she felt it worse.) So we had a very early dinner, or a "linner" after the party.
Sunday nights are plenty busy with getting everyone ready for the work/school week and gathering trash and recyclables for pickup at 6 a.m. Monday. (And yes, we must be at the beginning of their route, because they really do show up between 6 and 7 a.m.)
But I mumbled something about really needing to go to bed, so could Scott please do what he needed to get done without supervising Ellie so I could go upstairs. He told me to go, but I tried to insist that he still needed some help.
So he firmly told me to go. Right. Now.
And I did.
I didn't expect to sleep through the night from then, so I took a few of my evening medications and told myself I'd brush my teeth later after a short nap.
Yeah, well. :) Scott brought Ellie in to get a kiss and hug goodnight around 7:30 p.m. and I was dead to the world until I woke up to their talking. The next time I woke up, it was 10:30 p.m. and Scott was getting into bed. We spoke for a few minutes and I remember telling him I couldn't talk anymore or I'd wake up too much to fall back asleep so he wished me good night.
And then, way too early for me, the alarm was going off at 6 a.m. and it was time to get up to help get Ellie ready for school.
I know Scott can do Ellie's bedtime routine alone -- he's done it plenty of times that way -- but I also know it goes smoother when we're both there.
So I consider it a real gift that he let me go off to bed early and essentially sleep through the night (I never did get those teeth brushed until this morning -- don't tell my dentist!).
The statistics I've seen say that 75 percent of marriages break up after one partner or both develops a chronic illness. And while I know it could still happen even in my marriage, I'm grateful every day that my husband takes his marriage vows (especially the "in sickness and in health" one!) seriously.
L'shana tovah to everyone celebrating Rosh Hashana this week. For the first time since I moved to the PNW, we'll be attending a festive holiday meal tonight thanks to an invitation from a friend on our synagogue's outreach committee who "adopted" me after I got sick.
So there have been some good things to having this illness. But that doesn't stop me from wishing for a healthier new year for myself and everyone else with chronic health problems.
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