Blog Brag

As I sit here, with four very large holes in my face and all my meds worn off from the night, I find the perfect opportunity to brag about how wonderful my husband is. I tell him about it the most, but I find that the rest of the world needs to hear how great he is, too. People tend to cut me off after a few sentences, but they can't do that to me in a blog. Haha! Victory!

I won't even start with the surgery, let's begin two days before. I had woken up in the middle of the night with cold/flu symptoms, but my muscles were too achy to open the dumb Nyquil capsules. (Why do they make it SO difficult with that dumb blister packaging if they know you are feeling like crap in the first place?) Drew opened them up for me and got my pack into bed. Then, a while later, when I was vomiting up the medicine, he jumped out of bed and got me a washcloth and a drink of water. If my hair were any longer, I'm sure he would have held it back for me. This little incident is a big deal, because throwing up is just about the worst feeling in the world for me. I've avoided it through prevention and meditation (yes, calming my mind and body) since I was 12. Uck. After that, I was feeling fine until the morning. When I attempted to get ready for the day, I felt naucious again and nearly passed out as tried to climb back into bed. Neadless to say, I pretty much stayed there for the rest of the morning.

In the meantime, Drew drove out to the store to get me some ginger ale and saltines, my mother's old standby for upset stomachs. He set up the computer so I could lounge on the couch watching a Law and Order marathon and nap throughout the rest of the day. He worked from home that day so he could look after me. When I was feeling better that afternoon, he ran out to the store again to get some soups for me, then made me dinner. He postponed his meal until late so we could eat together.

The next day I was feeling better, but practically choking on mucus. Being the day before my wisdom teeth surgery, I was even more apprehensive. Instead of letting me worry for another 24 hours, he encouraged me to call the surgeon's office just to make sure I would be okay. I would not have do so on my own, because I'm a big weenie when it comes to making phone calls. I could breathe through my nose and didn't have a fever, so I was going to be fine, the receptionist said. One less thing to worry about, though I had many other worries on my mind. Drew has been so patient, with all my worrying. I was scared of going to sleep, scared of the pain afterward, scared of the IV needle, scared of losing a clot, scared of getting food stuck in the sockets... Still am worrying about all the post-op stuff. But Drew just tells me it's going to be okay, giving a rational scenerio and solution, and always telling me that he will be there to help me through it. I think if I were him, I would have thrown my hands in the air and told myself, "Just get over it! Millions of people get this done, and they're fine. Calm down, woman. Jeez."

After calming me down before the surgery and staying with me until the last moment, he took me home (even moved the car so I would have 10 feet less to walk outside). As I laid on the coach, he got me everything I asked for: pillows, blankets, Chapstick, another Law and Order marathon. When he was done waiting on me, he made homemade soup for me: split pea soup. He doesn't even like it. It was too chunky for me, so he broke out the blender and made it just right.

He offered to change my gauze for me (sweet, but too gross), kept track of my med schedule, and continued to get me anything I needed. He sat with me all day when he wasn't doing something for me. After he packed up the soup, he cleaned all the dishes, of course. He needed to so he could start on homemade cinnamon apple oatmeal for me in the morning. Awww.

We went out to the store last night so he could make me a milkshake to celebrate New Year's, since I can't have alcohol or carbonated beverages (no sparkling cider!). I was awfully tired and didn't make it until midnight anyway. Since I have to keep my head elevated, I couldn't sleep in bed, so I made myself comfortable on the couch. I'm sure you guessed exactly what Drew did. Without so much of a blink of an eye, he set up his pillows and a blanket on the sofa next to mine. I'm sure he would have slept on the floor if we didn't have two. I told him I would be fine, but he would have none of it. He tossed and turned with me all night long.

The thing is, none of this is unusual at all. This is the kind of stuff Drew does every day. I feel like a lazy princess since we've gotten married. He always thinking of what thoughtful thing he can do next, like unloading the dishwasher, vacuuming the entire house, bringing home flowers, making dinner just for the sake of doing something nice for me. It makes me feel like I'm not doing my share of the work in the relationship, but he assures me that I am. He feels like he's not doing enough for me most of the time. It's a really good thing that we both feel that way, I suppose. It keeps us in check and makes for a good balance. It's nice to always want to do more for the one you love.

I am so blessed to have Drew as a friend, let alone a partner in life. If I ever forget that, someone needs to smack me good and hard. Got it?

P.S. - Excuse the grammar and spelling mistakes. I haven't gotten much sleep lately, it's early, and I still have 40 more minutes until I can take my happy pill.