My Amazing Husband

Usually I don't gush about my husband on here.  First, he has a high sense of self-worth and I don't want to accidentally explode his ego with too much praise.  And second, I am not much of a gusher. 

But...

I have to take a moment to talk about this man.  

A little background might help.

When we married 15 years ago, I was perfectly healthy.  

Within six months of marriage something happened and I got very sick.  After that, I tended to get sick more often than most people.  

I am considered healthy by my doctors.  In a way.  They can see something isn't right but don't know what triggers it, what helps it, or anything.  

But I do struggle for health every day.  My body breaks down easily and I have many sensitives that can make me sick very quick.  Which is a shame.  Because I love being able to go, go, go and I love being able to eat, eat, eat.  Both of which are challenges with this condition.

Instead of a being a cunning, blood thirsty, cutthroat army, my immune system is like a southern female who was brought up to extend hospitality to any and all invaders.  "You are a virus ready to attack and destroy?  Well come on in.  Can I get you some hot cocoa while you do your work?"

Anyway, it is something that we have had to deal with and adjust to over the years.  

Traveling is especially hard.  I often have to pack half a suitcase with food (like a crazy person) and eat very simply.  It works about half the time.  For the other half, I have strong medications to help with symptoms.  And when it is really bad, I go to the hospital for fluids. 

So while I like to travel, not being able to eat and getting sick in foreign places are a challenge.

Every year, Husband has a work trip that we go on.

I will post about the trip and add beautiful pictures in another post.  

Suffice to say, I did the usual.  I packed my own food, ate simply, was extremely careful.  On the last night there, I started to feel an attack coming on.  Sigh.  

But I managed to fall asleep without medication.  The pain was there but it wasn't bone crushing.  The next morning we got up early to make our flight.

I was feeling a little rundown, a little funny.  But okay.

At the airport, we got through security and literally ten seconds later, the pain was crazy intense and I was sick, sick, sick. 

I started taking the emergency medication.  The strong stuff.  The prescription.  You can take four total in a day.  I took four in an hour.  I had to get on a plane.  The medication finally kicked in.  I slept most of the two plane rides.  Which is really weird for me.  I was tired but sipping water, thinking I had got through the worst and just needed to go to bed with a heating pad at home to heat the nerves down.  Weird but it helps.  Anyway.       

We landed at home and I stood up to deplane.  I felt a little lightheaded.  Nothing new for me.  As we walked up the gangway, I started to pass out.  My sight dimmed.  My hearing went ringy.  A flush flew over my body.  My legs felt like jelly.  I wanted to lay down.  I needed to pass out.  My husband was holding my hand.  He could tell something was wrong but I was too fuzzy to tell him I needed to lay down and pass out.  He held tight.  At the top of the gangway, as we entered the airport, I suddenly felt like I had to throw up.  I put my hands to my mouth and immediately threw up in my hands.  Very classy.  

And I still needed to pass out.  My husband's voice was faint.  "A trash can," he said.  He steered me to a trash can where I threw up a little more.  Mostly clear and watery.  It was all over my hands as I clung to this random trash can.  I still needed to pass out.  I dropped down next to the can and my husband helped pull my sweater off.  I was sweating profusely.  Liked soaked.  My body was shaking.  I was in shock. Once my vision cleared a little, Husband grabbed both of our backpacks and leaned down a strong firm hand to me.  To my yucky, throw up covered hand.  He grasped it, pulled me up, and carried me (and the backpacks) down a flight of steps to a bathroom.  I have that memory of his hand bending down to mine seared into my memory.  

I was shaking but was able to clean myself up.  Then he put me on a bench while he got luggage.  I shook and shook.  Once muscle spasms take over, I usually need fluids.  It's funny what you learn over the years from a chronic health challenge.      

One bag never made it.  My husband had to leave on a new international flight twelve hours from then.  But when I told him I had to go to the hospital, he said ok.  He immediately took me to the hospital.  Then went to get the last luggage and relieve the people who were watching our kids. He had a meeting that night but kept checking in on me.  No need for him to be there.  They gave me two bags of iv fluids and potassium.  I called an amazing friend to help get me and managed to walk out of the hospital. 

Neither of us knew that this would be a part of our marriage.  Neither of us pictured me randomly passing out and throwing up, needing iv fluids more often than a vacation.

The pictures and memories we made on the vacation are beautiful and lovely.  

But I will always remember my kind, patient, strong husband extending his strength to me when I needed it most, grabbing my slimy hand without the slightest wince of grossness, and taking care of me.  I am grateful for this man.  I am grateful for his care and love.  I am grateful to be married to him forever.   

I love you Husband!