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May 15th 2008

Him & Her:
The Worst Part of Better...
by Nancy and Dan Sapir

HIM: The surgeon said the rotator cuff injury would only worsen the older I got. God knows I'm already a senior citizen so I decided to just suck it up and get it over with. Keep in mind, when making this decision I accepted the fact it was a right shoulder and I'm a righty, that it was a major tear and would require immobilization, rest and months of rehab.

Now who would be the only one present 24 hours a day, seven days a week, fifty-two…well, you get the point… her. She had already been preparing me for the fact that Nurse Ratchet was ready, willing and able for the task before us. That's what worried me.

Guys, at any age, are very independent animals. We have our assigned societal roles. We are the tough ones, the breadwinners, the domestic warriors who preserve and protect our turf. We don't cry, we feel no pain, require no special attention and can function through pain.

Wow, I seem to have left that thought behind at the Jordan Hospital along with the morphine drip. The worst has happened. I am unable to adequately function without assistance. I am, at this point in time, dependent (there, I've said it).

There has been a steady flow of phone calls and visitors who are willing to deal with the Doberman and Italian Greyhound. But, once the calls are ended and the company leaves, who does that leave behind? You got it, her. Let's take a look at what she did to prepare me for the ordeal. She went out and bought a box spring and mattress so I could convalesce in our newly redone bedroom. She added to that a 27" TV so I could be properly amused. She went shopping (on her own) and stocked up on all my favorite foods.

She's being too nice to me. Guys have to be very careful when women are too nice to them. It goes against the natural order of things. She keeps asking me if I would like a soda, am I hungry, is it time for my medication, can she fluff up the pillows, and a whole host of other requests. She even has to help me get my socks on. Nobody should ever be that close to my feet. The worst part is I even need help in showering. Thirty years ago I was ok with that, but these days it's…uncomfortable and it makes me nervous. I hate to admit it but it's kinda nice to be babied. And besides, I have an excuse. It's not like I'm perfectly healthy and being treated like a baby…there are extenuating circumstances that any other man could understand. And besides, it's only temporary. I'll be tied up with a sling and painful physical therapy for about three months. After that I could go back to being a macho man.

She lectures me that this shoulder thing is a temporary setback. Her motto is "When one door closes, another opens." She says everything is for a reason. I've thought about that for many an hour. I've traveled back in time throughout our 37 years together. I realized that her assistance has been there all the time and our roles have often been reversed. This marriage thing is really about two way streets and, if I'm honest with myself, she's a lot stronger then I. That being the case, "Nancy, I'll have a dish of mocha/almond ice cream, a cherry Coke and two pain killers."

HER: He used to "tsk tsk" when I had my second blast of scotch. Now he lines up his pain killers to count how many fixes he has left. Growth is a beautiful thing.

I haven't shopped for groceries for over 30 years (he likes to do it), and now I'm on a first name basis with my bag girl at Victory. Her name is Donna, and she is the most helpful, pleasant person. Being at the store was a revelation. I never realized how many things they have that I like. All he ever buys are ingredients for his favorites, and I've previously described those horrors. Now we have good things like ravioli stuffed with wild mushrooms in a delectable sauce, although I did make meatloaf his first day home and fed what was left to the dogs. There is no going back now that I've seen Paris.

Yes, I've been attentive, and I've performed all my duties with a smile because the quicker he gets better, the better my life will be. Since all this began three weeks ago, I haven't seen any of the new Lifetime movies, and I have to endure Fox News instead of my beloved MSNBC. He watches Animal Planet by the hour, and he cries whenever the dogs die. As my son, David, said, "This can't be helping."

My greatest challenge was changing the dressing on his very large wound. When I peeled back those bandages, I thought I'd faint. My body just creeped out and I hurt all over. I had bought these bandages, but I forgot the tape, so I borrowed some from my neighbor, Nettie, and I taped that thing up but good. His doctor was appalled. I thought I did a great job.

I do feel that I deserve to be a size 10 what with the running up and down the stairs like it's the triathlon. I gained 10 pounds instead. There is no justice in this world.

I remember when I fell down the stairs and my ankle blew up and turned blue right on the spot. He found me lying facedown in the living room, grabbed my arm, and said, "Get up." Even in that pain, I had to laugh, because he can be so dumb.

Nettie sent over a tray of delicious treats which I wisely kept in my room, because the next day he left me upstairs and forgot to even give me a cup of tea. Until six that night, I lived on Nettie's cakes and tap water from the bathroom. I wanted to kill him. He's had his every need attended to. He has eaten like a king. I've run all his errands. And I gained 10 pounds. All I know is he'd better recover damned quick or I won't have anything to wear that fits when I drive him to physical therapy, and maybe my doing the shopping is not such a good idea. I'm thinner when he does it.
 

by Nancy and Dan Sapir