this guy

Up until now, Ron's had the corner on the market when it comes to TLC...two knee replacements, two shoulder surgeries.  I happily donned my Florence Nightengale uniform and puttered and hovered and futzed, plumped pillows, and adjusted blankets.  Anything to make him as comfortable as possible.

I was in my element.

Now, I don't want to negate the major strides women have made in the past few decades (still some issues to be addressed, thank you, Patricia Arquette), but women are innately wired to be caregivers.  Men, on the other hand, are innately wired to fix things with their hands and gather firewood.  That's why women have wombs and men have tougher skin.  I know these are stereotypes and generalizations, but for this particular musing, just amuse me and don't judge me too harshly.

So, it was with some trepidation that I approached Ron about taking off two weeks to help me in my recovery.  I may or may not have said three or four times that I took off FIVE weeks to nurse him back to health on his first knee surgery.  It might have been as many as eight or nine.  Trust me, a good dose of guilt or "you owe me" attitude can go miles in getting what you want.

One of the things you need to know about this man o' mine is that he cannot sit still.  If he does, he falls asleep.  Boom.  He's also a projectaholic.  He's usually got a couple of things in various stages of completion in the garage and another dozen or so floating around his Temple Grandin mind (he totally sees things in pictures in his brain like the fascinating Ms. Grandin).

So when he responded to my request with, "I'll do whatever you need," I just kind of stared at him.  There was probably an arched eyebrow involved as well.  "Do you have any idea what this will involve?" I wondered, silently.

After two weeks, I can pretty safely answer, "No, he did not."

He did his best. He tended to my every need...but, let's face it ladies...there are some things a girl's gotta do herself, no matter the circumstances. He loved me, he encouraged me, he made sure I was as comfortable as possible. He set the alarm at night to come give me my pain meds and refill my cooler with ice every four hours.
But, bless his heart...it wasn't easy for him.  Which makes it all the more dear to me.  Ron Martin, you are my best friend, my helpmate and the one I want to grow old with.

But for now, get the heck outta here.  You're driving me a wee bit batty.

And just like that the color returns to his face, his shoulders straighten and he's out the door before I've finished typing "batty."

"I love you, too!"