He said that he hadn’t wanted to wake me. Poor love, and he was in such a state. With the sweet logic of a child he’d decided the best thing to wear in bed to withstand the volatility of his bowels after taking the laxative they’d prescribed prior to his colonoscopy the next day were his waterproof trousers. It didn’t work. Everything was soaked and it reeked. And he was so cold. I did what I could to make it all clean, including him but without upsetting or chiding him. Getting him into the bath was easy, getting him out again wasn’t. He has no feeling in his feet so can’t get a purchase. Keep calm, I kept telling myself. In the end (after he’d pulled the top of the hot top off trying to use it as a something to grasp) we decided that the best thing was for him to go onto his knees and then use the edge of the bath to hoist himself up. I become aware of his need at such times and I feel the love and weight of responsibility surge through me. Grant me the strength to be what he needs me to be.
The procedure went well. They only found one. And he won’t have to do it again. I made the bed eventually after a day of airing his room. I felt better for doing so. And I burnt sage. I love the smell, associating it with cleaning the house through. I feel it in my head. It’s an old smell, an old-fashioned smell. It feels safe, good, balanced and wise.
I was discombobulated all day. What will I do, be without him? He is the centre of my life. He alone makes sense of it for me.
I remembered the day before and the radiologist not being able to proffer a word to describe my fanny. He needed to go deeper down into my groin and told me to pull down my leggings. Though even that command was difficult for him. (If he is so awkward why don’t they have a nurse in there?) I did so and he said, ‘Use some of the paper to cover up the……’ I did so and noticed that the radiologist pulled the curtain across, though to protect my modesty from whom I am not sure.
The dentist has had to postpone my appointment for a filling. Well, that is something less to dread next week. One less intrusion. We’ll manage, he says. And we will. I know we will.
