When you have an ongoing "condition," your household develops a routine - an understanding of who helps who. The patient doesn't mean to take advantage, "she" just can't keep up.
Imagine my surprise when JP came home from work three days ago, limping and grimacing. Watching him remove his steel-toed work boots sent shivers down MY spine, and I was wearing fuzzy socks.
The next day he tries to work, but comes home early, in even worse pain. (For the record, I told him not to go... why doesn't anyone ever take my advice?)
A few phone calls later and I had him scheduled to see a podiatrist the next morning. When he woke up, he was worse, gritting his teeth just to stand.
At that moment, it dawned on me how little I am. I can't lift JP. I can't pull JP. The best I can hope for is to break his fall. He hopped to the bathroom, managed to shower, and wobbled out to the truck. Long story short -- Gout.
Now it's Freaky Friday in our house and I'm checking with him. "What can I get you? You need anything?" He's actually a good patient (perhaps better than me? -- no comment). And his sense of humor is not affected. For example, while reading online the treatments for gout, without missing a beat, he said, "And the No. 1 treatment is the love of a good woman." However, when he didn't like my shopping list for the grocery store, he texted me to find him "a good woman in the frozen food section."
Uh huh... that's when I realized...
I can say anything I want, and he can't catch me!
- I can tell him, "Wait till the doc gets a load of those Hobbit Hooves." And he can't catch me!
- I can tell him, "Get well, or I'll have to move you around on your dolly." And he can't catch me!
- I can tell him, "Bye Bye, beloved manly smoker. Hello, veggie platters." And he can't catch me!
You'll Remember." Sing it Natalie!