Don’t be fooled by newly wedded bliss!
Just married, having a wee whilst hubby was taking a bath, I thought that I reached a new level of intimacy that would be difficult to surpass. Oh! The ignorance of a newly wed bride. If only I knew then…what it means to be married.
The years have progressed. Actually a good twenty of them have come and gone. And the levels of intimacy have increased, but alas! not in the way that I would have imagined.
In this time he has seen my body grow and shrink several times. He has experienced boobs growing from grapefruit size to small watermelons as it got ready to feed a hungry, screaming newborn. Prior to that I think he has seen more blood and guts than he would have liked when the doctors cut and ripped me open to get our two children from my body.
But in the last year, I have discovered yet another level of intimacy with the man that I have chosen to spend the rest of my life with. I have discovered the question that many mums thought would be limited to their children only.
“When did you last have a poop?”
Growing old is not for weaklings!
Because dear reader, we have embarked on the adventure called ageing, and how everything seems to go south after forty. Never thought it would happen to me, but it did… and it is…
My beloved have developed something. First we thought it was a heart attack. He has been poked and prodded, injected and scanned, blood drawn and tested and nada, zip, niks, nothing is wrong with the bloke, except high cholesterol and LDL and ‘LP little a’ that is under control as a result of the statins. Still… something is wrong.
He gets this pain in his chest that creeps up from his abdomen, and causes the most horrific chest pains that gets him to the doctor without an appointment. His arm goes numb, he gets palpitations, and nothing is wrong, they say. He has lost so much weight it is scary.
All of us are a little scared of dying alone.
Whether I wanted to reach this level of intimacy or not, I have been thrown into it. Suddenly I have a man who is facing his mortality and he is scared… scared of dying and leaving us alone. Therefore, he refuses to leave me alone. If we had an outside dunny, I swear the man would accompany me there.
I have been informed that some of his burps taste funny.
“Yeah, because you did now swallow that liquorice root tablet properly and it is dissolving somewhere in your oesophagus and that is why it tastes funny when you burp!”
I am informed of every pain in every part of his body, as a back up plan, in case he can’t speak to the doctor when he arrives at death’s door.
And we monitor his regularity, which is very irregular, with precision.
In two weeks’ time he will swallow a camera to travel into his stomach and I hope to God that they find something wrong, because this road has been exhausting, to say the least.
What it means to be married.
This level of sticking with each other… sticking like… like I do not know what… this is what it means to be married. Because there comes a time when being in love, being romantic, being anything else than best mates, just would not cut it; and sometimes even being best mates are not enough… then only the fact that you made a promise, and you are not one to break that promise, is what keeps you going.
I have been making potato juice and cabbage juice. I have been reading about this and learning about that. I have been crying and I have been praying, and I have never been more thrilled about bowel movements, than I have been in the past couple of weeks, because it meant less pain, and less continuous updates.
This is a season. I just have to keep looking for another Person in this fire I am going through and I will get through this unscathed… without the smell of smoke in my hair. But for now… now I feel pretty burned out.