I hurt. Not physically, emotionally. I hurt because he hurts. My husband is so tough and pushes through so much. He tries to do things that medicine says he shouldn't be able to do. He is determined to conquer as much of life as he can. When we went to Colorado last winter, he attempted snow skiing. Granted, he ended up riding down the mountain in a ski patrol snowmobile... which made the rest of us jealous... but he tried it. At the lake, he tried tubing. We took the boat slow and avoided bumpy waters, whereas he was formerly the type to aim for the bigger bumps. But he did it. He pushes himself harder than anyone I know, and he toughens up and tries to pretend there is no pain.
Today, he can't. Today is one of those days that makes my heart cry. I love this man more than anything, and seeing him in pain so intense he can't move is nearly unbearable. I try to be strong for him. I don't want him to see me weak, because then he will try to hide his pain. I want him to feel relaxed... to know that I want to help him and that I'm here for him.
He laid on his right side this morning. I knew immediately it was bad because, even on worse than normal days, he lays on his left side and wraps me in his embrace from about 3 AM until I get up. Today he couldn't. I got up and around, and I noticed he was still laying on his right side a couple of hours later. He hadn't moved. As I went to check on him, I saw the look on his face. I knew it was bad. His pain was so excruciating he could not move. Usually I can help him roll onto his back and then sit up, but today he couldn't even do that. I asked him if he wanted me to raise the bed so it sits him up, allowing him to get off that right side. He couldn't handle that. So he lays there.
Today is bad. Today he can't function. Yet through all this pain, I thank God that my husband, my hero, is here to feel it.
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