My Good Wife and I married almost 38 years ago. Although she held a few part-time jobs in the first few years of our marriage, when our first son was born, she decided that the only job she wanted was wife and mother. Luckily, we could make this work. Most of our “division of labor” was a result of that decision, but we did talk about a few of the family chores, and, in general, I take care of the outside of the house and she takes care of the inside. I do a few things indoors now and then—I run a mean vacuum (but too fast, according to all the women in my family). She does some planting outside and enjoys “supervising” everything else.
During my youth and bachelor days, I did learn how to do a little laundry. (I have a pink football jersey to prove it. The white jersey did not like my red boot socks.) My maternal grandparents were custodians and I cleaned bathrooms at a very early age. Both of my grandmothers and my mother were outstanding cooks and taught me to follow a recipe and experiment. I’m a pretty good cook, if I do say so myself. Breakfast is my forté…or cooking over a campfire. Since I’ve been married, however, the Good Wife has taken care of most of these chores, and I’ve confined my cooking skills to mastering the grill. It’s been a good arrangement (for me, anyway).
Getting older has brought us both its numerous challenges and new experiences. After years of fairly good health, we’ve had our share of aches and pains and interesting maladies; nothing too long term, fortunately. That all changed last month when my Better Half decided it was time to do something about the pain in her right heel. She was diagnosed with acute Achilles tendonosis, and the orthopedic doctor she was seeing finally recommended surgery. She new it was coming and put it off as long as possible—when would be “the right time” to be in a cast for a month, a walking boot for another month, at least, and who knows how long for physical therapy?
We live in a two-storey house. The master bedroom and bath are upstairs—15 steps. There is no bedroom on the main floor and only a narrow half-bath. My Good Wife has never been on crutches before and doesn’t do well with them. She’s not one to sit for very long…too busy…”a woman’s work is never done.” The essential confinement to her chair and the inside of the house on first floor were her great dreads. The idea of eating my cooking and knowing that I would be responsible for keeping her house clean were the subject of nightmares.
A pre-surgery physical therapy session helped her understand how to use the crutches, but also introduced her to a walker and—her salvation—a knee roller. The grandsons think Grandma’s “scooter” is cool. The biggest problem throughout has been the steps…not to the upstairs, but into the house itself (there are three, plus the doorsill) and the one step down into the living room—now our bedroom.
Today is “cast off” day, and we’re both looking forward to this milestone in her healing and recuperation. My cooking hasn’t been all that bad…and we’ve had some good meals provided by our sons and daughter-in-law. We have done some take out, of course, but not much more than usual.
We’re both very ready to get our lives back. I’m not sure that’s really going to happen, though. Every year brings new challenges merely because we’re growing older. We keep adjusting to new aches and pains, joints that aren’t as limber as they used to be, strength that seems closer to weakness.
One thing that has been made quite clear to us as we’ve weathered this new experience, however, is that after almost 40 years together, together we can handle anything life throws at us.
I’d like to think that in the near future it’s going to throw us some peace for a while!
No comments:
Post a Comment