Hubbie here. It’s Saturday and Pauline has gone off to run errands, be political, and get a bit of a break. If you have not had to be the main support for someone in a condition something like Lewy’s, then you have no idea how important even the shortest break can be. If I had to do it for someone not kin to me then one of us would die by my hand. If they were kin to me……..mmm…….I honestly don’t know. It is only a little bit of pressure at a time but the pressure of a small stream of water can, over time, make a bolder disappear. I don’t want to disappear. Do you?
Pauline has told you that I have been a bit under the weather lately. I can’t seem to kick the nighttime hacking cough so for a couple of nights I have slept sitting in my recliner. I say mine because we each have one. Each is green. Each is leather. Each is form fitted to the correct butt after years of compression. Between mine and Pauline’s is a console creating a chair-console-chair unit. The chairs have one arm each, no arm at the console. They have been so form fitted by time that I can’t sit in her chair. I would have to lean the wrong way.
I am sorry to report that, like many folks that spend too much time lying down, Lewy has developed bed sores; basically large blisters on the heels of his feet. The doctor suggested that it might help if Lewy slept in his recliner for a few nights to take the pressure off of the sores so last night Lewy and I slept together for the first time. We propped up our feet and slept soundly in our respective green leather comfort zones. Around seven in the morning I hacked myself awake, cleared my throat, opened my eyes and saw Lewy looking at me. He said he needed to get up so we began the morning ritual. As I held the walker steady so that he could stand, Lewy notified me that I should take care not to be hit by the draft as he stood.
“It’s OK Lewy. I know I’m weak from the flu but I think I can take it.”
Lewy rose and headed to the bathroom, pushing the walker ahead of him in standard Lewy fashion. Standing close by as a safety net, I still managed to avoid the three or four “drafts” that provided him a fair tail wind to propel him on his way.
We arrive at the toilet and despite my repeated suggestion that he “have a seat”, Lewy stood in front of the commode in typical male fashion. Not having any particular urge to witness the expected emissions I departed the scene. After about five minutes I checked on him and Lewy informed me that he was done. It seemed an odd declaration given that the bowl was full of clean water but hey, I’m half past fifty, married and living with Lewy so any day I don’t have to deal with someone else’s bodily fluids is a good day in my book.