Marriage is a partnership, a teeter totter, a balancing act, a symbiotic relationship; or
whatever euphemism you choose to explain a relationship of two people that are legally bound together for no other reason beside the simple fact that they love each other. (I do not consider any people that get married for the purpose of money, security, or a green card a true marriage. It is more of the legal arrangement of two people that will slowly and systematically drive each other to increasing levels of insanity.) When one half of the marriage is in and on out of service the teeter tooter does not tet and tot, the balance tips over, and the symbiotic relationship that can exist resembles more of parasite and host relationship. The healthy half of the relationship that has to do everything from doing the taxes to cleaning the bathrooms. Often times cleaning the bathrooms is not even the most disgusting thing that they have to do. Last year I was in the hospital with gastric paralysis. I was not digesting food properly so I was not allowed to eat, and they put me on an IV to keep me hydrated. Anyone that has ever had an IV knows that one of the most difficult parts of the whole experience is going to the bathroom. This was made worse by the fact that early in the week I had accidently ripped out my first IV on my right hand when I was getting out of my wheelchair, so the new IV had to be put into my left hand. I was left with one hand that had a damaged vein wrapped up in a bandage and the other hand I had a tube connected to a five foot tall machine. One the bright side both hands hurt horribly and made it nearly impossible to complete the third step of the dischargement process. After watching me struggle for a second or two my husband offered to help me with my dilemma. As a little girl when you dream of your future husband you dream of diamonds, flowers, romantic dinners, and holidays in exotic places. You never ever dream that at ripe old age of 29 your husband will offer to help you wipe your ass. tot...tot...tot...tot...tot...tet
The most difficult aspect of a Sickie/Normie relationship has nothing to do with the extra work that the Normie has to take on to cover for the Sickie. The worst part of this situation is that his disease and its treatments often steal away the parts of what you love the most about your partner. Whatever the disease does not destroy, the legal medications do and vice versa. I am handed one drug, and about seven or eight drugs to counter act that one drug's side effects. The top drawer of my dresser is an actual drug drawer full of prescriptions to help me sleep, stay sane, be out of pain, stave of anxiety attacks, and poop. The last often being the most difficult thing to complete without medicinal help. If one medication is forgotten there are endless situations and issues that the Normie must face. If I am yelling at my husband for something as important as putting the lid on the mayo jar too tightly, there is a little voice that whispers... you are crazy... you are crazy. Unfortunately, the crazy is screaming...JUSTIFIED...JUSTIFIED... JUSTIFIED... Don't let him get away with this!! One of the first things that he usually asks me when I am completely irrationally crazy, is whether or not I have taken my meds. If he asks, I usually have forgotten one or two of my pills and sometime it is just good old fashioned PMS. There is one situation that glaringly comes into mind: We were back in the States on vacation we bought Wendy's for lunch. We both ordered burgers. His plain and mine with all the fixings. I passed out the burgers and started eating when I realized that mine was plain. I started freaking out and when I mean freaking out... I mean... freaking... out. My reaction can only be likened to the illegitimate demon off spring of Gallager and Patrick Bateman. While I screamed, "Why does nothing in my life go right," I smashed my burger violently with the palm of my hand. We actually found bits of burger six feet away. I went from completely calm to a complete rage so quickly that I failed to check the burger that I handed to Andrew, which as luck would have it was complete with all of the fixings. Andrew did not need to ask me if I had forgotten my meds. He handed me the burger he was holding and he went without, as half of it was stuck to the walls and the other half was on the floor. He handles it with such patience and love that I consider myself to be so completely blessed. He sacrifices time he does not have to come help me if I need him. He sees who I am and not what this disease is doing to me. God gave me this disease, but he also gave me my Andrew so I can make it through.
The Normie has to stand and watch the person that they love be poked and prodded, vomit out all of orifices (vomiting from the nose only occurs when the explosion is exceedingly violent but it does happen), be in so much pain they can't see straight, and be so drugged that they often cannot focus on a conversation or anything else for that matter. Their spouse is sick and there is nothing that they can do to fix it. They just have to watch the person that they love suffer. In the same day Andrew had to watch two men stick their fingers up my pooper, two tubes (one too large) being shoved up my nose, and an IV accidently be ripped out of my vein. All of these things occurred without the aid of any pain killers. A truly great Normie, like my husband, will stay even though it leaves them with a feeling of helplessness and lack of control. I can't imagine how hard it is for a husband to listen to his wife begging him to make them stop. It would be so much easier just to walk out of the room.
At this moment in time I know that I am, probably, the most healthy that I will ever be. I am not going to get better, that is something that I know and have (kind of ) accepted. Living with that is hard, but what is often harder to deal with is the feeling that you can not be the person that you want to be. I never wanted to be a stay at home wife. I love working, making money, and just being an all around productive member of society. That is the woman that my husband married, but that is not the one that is his wife. In the last six years he has watched his wife able to do less and less; causing him to have to do more and more and more. Even without me he has a lot on his plate; as he is not average and he will never be. I could list off all the things he does with his day, but that would only look like I was bragging and frankly it only result in him being embarrassed. I do not know what the future holds. I do know that I can handle anything no matter what happens. I know I can do this because my Normie is one of the few that truly believes in Sickness and in Health.
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