What exactly am I supposed to do? Do you think it would be easier for him to be around a wife who’s constantly doting and asking how he feels? Reminding him, each time, that he can’t relax and should instead worry. Last night we all went to dinner, and when we raised our glasses for a toast, I wanted to say, "To good health," but I KNEW it would piss Phil off. He doesn’t want to be reminded at every turn about the recent turn of his health. That he’s now, officially 97% dependent on his Freshmaker and back in atrial fibrillation as of two weeks ago. It’s not as if he can control it. I made a toast to family, to love, to life! And I felt like Topol. "And to good HEALTH!" Phil’s mother spit out with an exclamation point.
Phil turned his head slightly to me. A deflated look washed over him, and he rolled his eyes as if to say, does this have to come with us everywhere we go?
"How can Stephanie Klein be blogging when her husband is sick?"
"How can she be posting about rings and diamonds when there’s his health to think about? Where are her priorities?"
"It’s like she uses his health for attention. What a narcissist."
"I refuse to read her blog. Refuse, refuse, refuse!"
"You’d think her perspective would change after what she’s just been through, that her priorities would realign, and she’d focus on things that matter."
It’s all crap, except for the narcissist bit, because let’s face it, I am. I’m also very much a hedonist, and a slew of other ists I don’t have time to ponder, considering all I should really allow is thoughts of my husband’s well-being. Right? That’s what I’m supposed to do? Talk about it all the time? Forget about my engagement ring, and just not wear it anymore because it’s broken? I shouldn’t think about clothes or food or movies because of what I’ve been through. And I certainly shouldn’t have the time or desire to blog about any of it because my one and only focus should be on sulking. Make everything stop and only focus on that? Do you even realize that it’s hard for him to discuss, that he hates when anyone brings it up, that he asks me if I’ll videotape him, "You know, so one day the kids will understand what happened to me." That he suddenly wants a notebook to capture every thought for when he’s no longer here? Is that what I should be writing? Go on and tell me. You think it benefits him somehow to have me sulking and constantly wanting to speak of game plans and next steps? Of ifs?
Life doesn’t stop when we worry. Everything else doesn’t disappear when we’re concerned. I don’t stop thinking or writing because I’m in pain. I do what I always do and hope beyond any hope I know how to stir up that the universe will take care of us.
