Kim had her last procedure today. Outpatient this time so she was able to come home. Hopefully this is all behind us now.
Two surgeries. One procedure. Weeks of recovery. Watching her go through all of it has been hard. Not as hard as going through it herself. But hard in a different way.
It saddens me to watch my youthful wife grow older. I still see her the way she was when we first got together. The same smile. The same laugh. The same woman I fell in love with. But time doesn't care about any of that. It just keeps moving. Bodies change. Things stop working the way they used to. Parts wear out.
I know it's frustrating her too. She's struggling with her own health challenges now and she's a trooper through all of them. Doesn't complain. Doesn't feel sorry for herself. Just pushes through. That's who she is. That's who she's always been. Stronger than she gives herself credit for.
I worry about her constantly. More than I probably should. More than she wants me to. I've been underfoot this whole time. Hovering. Checking on her. Asking if she needs anything every five minutes. Following her around the house making sure she's not overdoing it. To the point it aggravates her. I know it does. She tells me. I back off for a little while and then I'm right back at it.
But I can't help it. I love her. I don't want her overdoing it. I don't want her pushing too hard too fast and setting herself back. I'd rather annoy her than watch her hurt herself trying to do too much. She's stubborn. Always has been. She'll try to do things before she's ready because she doesn't like sitting still. Doesn't like being taken care of. That's just how she's wired.
So I hover. And she gets annoyed. And we do this dance.
This whole thing opened my eyes. You take time for granted. You assume there's always more of it. You get comfortable thinking tomorrow will always be there. Then something happens and you realize how fragile it all is. How fast things can change. How quickly the person you love can be in a hospital bed instead of sitting next to you on the couch.
We've been through a lot together. The good years and the bad ones. The times I wasn't the man I should have been. The times she stuck around anyway. She's seen me at my worst and didn't leave. That means something. That means everything.
I'm not sure what I'd do without her. Don't want to think about it. Don't have to right now. She's home. She's healing. We got through this one together.
Getting older isn't for the weak. Bodies break down. Health challenges pile up. You spend more time in waiting rooms and doctor's offices than you ever thought you would. But you get through it. One day at a time. One procedure at a time. One recovery at a time.
She's home now. Resting. Probably annoyed that I'm checking on her again. But that's okay. I'd rather have her annoyed at me than not have her at all.
We made it through this one. On to whatever comes next.
Thanks for reading,
Joe
Notes:
-All content is mine unless otherwise annotated.
-Images are my own unless otherwise noted.
-Photos edited using MS Paint and/or iPhone SE.
-Page Dividers from The Terminal Discord.
