Perspective

A few months ago I wrote about watching an episode of The John Ankerberg Show and his interview with Joni Erickson Tada and her husband, Ken Tada, about the early years of their marriage. Ken shared how unprepared he really was, marrying a quadraplegic and how the first year of marriage with waking up every 2 hours to turn his wife took a physical and mental toll on him and threatened their marriage when he questioned whether he was truly up for this challenge. Their collective response to how they dealt with it was perfect. After they got through the tears and faced the reality of their marriage, they realized that more than anything, they needed more of Jesus. It sounds simple, really, but when you are in the middle of being up to your eyeballs with medical issues with a spouse, it's much harder than it sounds.

Mike's recovery from the last surgery has been rougher than one would think for a normal knee scoping. After he was put under they saw his apnea was not going to cooperate so he was intubated. The anesthesiologist wasn't kind about it either, and the tube scratched all the way down his trachea. It's been past tender and well on its way to downright agonizing at times. The chemicals used didn't mix well and he had splitting head pain over his left eye and it appeared to have wreaked havoc with his right eye as well. Then, the cherry on the sundae was the antibiotic they gave him prior to surgery. The man has been loaded with antibiotics since the first day of this journey with nec/fac, and at one point was put on a mouth rinse for thrush. He's battled, unsuccessfully, multiple yeast infections. Ten-12 weeks of daily IV antibiotics drips and simultaneous oral antibiotics, I can't remember how many times, over 17 months, have taken their toll on his body.

Men, when they get sick, are like two years olds six hours past nap time in full crappy diapers. Cranky is something to aspire to. Most of the time they're surly, ill-tempered, and just downright awful to be around. At least that's Mike. No matter how hard we try, it's always SOMETHING that crops up and impedes his path to getting well and when he's had enough, and he's six hours past nap time and his diaper runneth over, it can be UGLY.

 

I was at my wit's end as I called the doctor and the call back sent us to Urgent Care because the doctor didn't like that it appeared to be in his eyes now. So, off we went to Urgent Care to rack up another $160 on the never-ending doctor bill that I try to whittle down each month with paltry payments. 

Yes, you do have a yeast infection, yes, you do need medicine, yes, you do have an excellent grasp on your diabetes and all the problems that come with it, I'll send your prescription to the pharmacy and we will get this under control. He's relieved and just like a little child, "Can we just not go home since it's so beautiful--can I get something to drink?" That's Mike-speak for, "I'd like a Route 44 Diet Cranberry Lime-Ade at Sonic. Can we?" So, off we go. 

I dropped him off at the house and went to get the medicine. They known me VERY, VERY well at the pharmacy. All it takes is a certain look from me and they reveal the cost of the medicine very, very, gently. 

"Um, hon, it's $66.67." For ten freaking pills.

I paid for them and drove off. As I'm waiting for the traffic to thin out so I can get out on River Road, I tell myself, "It's not worth getting upset. He needs the medicine, God ALWAYS provides. He's not ONCE not been there. Your bills are getting paid. You still have a roof over your head, food isn't an issue. Getting upset isn't going to help one bit, you know it, so suck it up, and be thankful he's still ALIVE to piss you off from time to time. You're not making funeral arrangements to bury him, you're not sitting in a waiting room while they take a leg off from diabetes, you're not having to weigh your options about which medicine you can and can't get. He's alive. You have love and support and friends and family and he's ALIVE. Abandon this mindset right now and get on with life."

So, that's what was done. The little voice that encourages me on a daily basis had the megaphone out and was yelling at me to get across the finish line for the day, get home, feed the family, get the medicine in your husband, and give him reason to believe that THIS TOO SHALL PASS. 

And it shall.