Hubby and I got married in a registry office ceremony in 1991, so the vows aren’t the same as those in a church service.
My Mum and Dad said they had never seen me so serious, and expected me to burst into tears any minute. In truth, I meant every word I said that day, and it had nothing to do with the threat of being handcuffed to the railings outside until I said ‘I Do.’
The above ‘book’ was my gift to him on our wedding day.
In all the years we’ve been together, it is highly unusual for one of us to be ill. Colds and migraines don’t really count, apart from that one bout of flu I had over Christmas and never got to taste the duck he’d so lovingly cooked for me.
He’s been in hospital a few times, like shortly after our marriage due to my cooking (not deliberate, honest!), a couple of heart scares and DVTs, and on my part the only time I’ve been in overnight was for my nosebleeds earlier this year, a day’s observation for my own heart scare a few years ago and recently my day surgery to remove Humphrey.
Hubby came with me to the hospital on Tuesday for my bone scan, but couldn’t park, so I ended up going in on my own. Not a problem.
When I came out, he was waiting in the corridor for me, really pleased with himself having gone into town on a whim and finding a pair of specific work boots that seemed to be like hens teeth, so he bought them. I was pleased too as he spends so little on himself.
We had intended going to visit my Mum on Wednesday, so set two alarms early so that we could get on the road by 6am. It would be the last opportunity to visit before my treatment starts.
Sadly, it didn’t work out that way.
At 3am, Hubby was getting dressed to go up to the shower block as he felt ‘weird’.
He was glad he did.
Unfortunately, round two attacked at 4am, and he didn’t stand a chance, as it hit from both ends and continued for over an hour.
With severe D&V, he was a wreck.
I got up at 5.30 and let him crawl back into bed. He was running a temperature, and anxious that I wouldn’t go down with it, convinced it was a particularly virulent ‘superbug’ picked up at the hospital, which incidentally we have since learned, is rife with it.
He was back in the bathroom at 6.15, and knowing there was nothing I could do, I kept out of his way.
I took the dog out for her first wee at 7, getting back just before 8 to give him time and space to collect himself. He hates being ill, hates making a mess, and even more so, hates the thought of me having to clear up after him. I am one of these people who can clear up after a dog, but not a person.
He got back into bed and managed to sleep.
I had breakfast, and then at 9 decided to go out shopping, taking the dog with me.
I came back with spray disinfectant (we have to be careful as our sink waste pipes go straight out into the marina), anti diarrhea tablets, a bag of salad for my lunch (to save possible nauseous fumes from cooking anything) and a bucket.
Telling him to stay in bed and rest, I donned rubber gloves, stripped off my jumper and watch, and set to cleaning up. The carpet in the bathroom is a write off, but with both of us having had a go at cleaning it, it came up well for the interim. I sprayed the loo and sink, then swept through the boat where possible as the bed end was an obstacle course of blue bog roll, bucket, shoes and clothes.
We’d had to strip the bed and everything he was wearing earlier, so I then trotted up to do the washing. I took the dog for another walk, by which time the wash had finished, so I put it in the dryer (the Lady in Red was out) then settled down with a book while it ran its course. It took a full hour to dry everything, and the book was so good, I brought it down with me.
I finally remembered to have my meal after 5pm. Hubby was as weak as a lamb and stayed in bed. He managed to keep some boiled water down so we could keep him hydrated, but he didn’t want anything to eat.
Then came the discussion as to who was going to have the bed for the night. He lost, and spent the night wrapped in the duvet in the comfort of space, whereas Maggie and I had the bench, a sheet and a blanket. I was toasty warm and so was she, but luckily for us it was a very mild night.
I had to get up in the night, but only for the usual, then went back to bed.
Hubby slept pretty well though and was much better yesterday. He managed to get up and about for short periods, but is still very weak.
I went out to buy replacement tiles for the bathroom and took the dog for her walks, the first on which she was retching. Scrambled egg for her when I got back, which seemed to do the trick.
Hubby had some breakfast (boiled egg), lunch (dry crackers) and an evening meal (chicken soup).
The offending tiles are on the back ready to be disposed of. Although only 6 are required to do the bathroom floor, only one doesn’t need to be cut, which is why I haven’t been able to do the job. Me and knives do not get on well. I think I told you about cutting myself on the box trying to get it out (sigh).
He weighed himself this morning and has lost 3 kilos in as many days.
Not a nice way to lose weight I know, but I am a little envious.