Saturday, September 24, 2011

Is broke. I make fix.

There's a bit of a silly accent that goes with that, but I suppose the fact that it's in "foreign English" is good enough.

It occurred to me earlier today that when something is broken in my relationship with Becky, I try to fix it in some way. Two recent examples come immediately to mind.

The first was just prior to my recent hospitalization. Becky was fretting over me being gone for so many days, despite my being only one mile away. Well, as I'd said in previous posts, my being laid up would mean a disruption to our rituals, and those disruptions were bothering her a great deal. (Thank goodness neither is considering breaking up or dying...Then again, does one consider dying actively? (I suppose if one were suicidal...) (Bah...totally off track!)) I've become somewhat accustomed to being hospitalized, and so it wasn't THAT big of a deal for me, with my only concern being that I was about to lose a toe. For my beloved, however, it was quite a big deal, as hospitals tend to be scary places where truly sick people go.

In an effort to make her feel better, and as a kind of apology for being "dumb enough to get sick," I did the cooking the night before. Really, there's only one thing I seem to make exceptionally well and that's matzoh brei. I whipped up a couple of them Tuesday night in the hopes of bringing much-needed smiles to our home. It worked, as kisses and thanks were rained upon me in great quantities. And, really, I kind of needed the affection. I may not have been panicking, but I was quite nervous about losing "the piggy that stayed home." =(

Even more recently was yesterday. On the way home from a fitting of my newly made diabetic shoes, Becky said something that hit my emotional buttons in just the right way to enrage me. When I'm angry, I desperately try to avoid saying anything at all, and thus go quiet for some time. I need to calm down, or it becomes quite possible that I'll say something I'm sure to regret.

Angry responses, in almost any form, frighten Becky. She's lived with entirely too many people who've had poor anger responses, and tends to want to flee before anyone that's enraged, most specifically at her.

Making it worse was the fact that when we got home, there was no time for any kind of discussion. She had to get to work. We did, however, manage a quick tearful apologies to one another, and I promised we would talk more when she returned from work.

We did. We ironed out the problem as best we could, although I know it will happen again because Becky is unaccustomed to having someone talk TO her and not AT her. And I suppose one major argument every five months is acceptable.

The thing about our arguments, regardless of how serious they are, is that I am often right. I don't enjoy this fact, as Becky often comes away feeling like she's been thoroughly reprimanded. I'm not ALWAYS right, and I couldn't possibly be 100% right...but I am...sometimes right. (Oh ho! Can you NOW see the play on word of this blog? I write occasionally, and I'm also correct now and again. I'm such a wit, (and words that rhyme with "wit."))

Due to the rain yesterday, I was unable to hobble over to the pharmacy to pick up prescriptions. So it was that I called today, had them prepare the various meds that needed to be refilled, and prepared to head over there about an hour later. Becky noticed me getting ready to go and said that she thought it was going to be her job to pick up my meds. "No," I replied. "I don't know if you've noticed this, but whenever we have something that's affected you emotionally in some way, I try to do something nice, even if it's to simply give you a break from doing this or that." (I said something to that effect. The exact words have managed to escape me in a rather short time.)

The mere fact that I give her any thought whatsoever, thereby demonstrating that I actually CARE about her, had her on her feet and moving to embrace me with tears forming in her eyes. Honestly, I don't think I'm committing a great feat of romance when I do such things, and the fact that it brings her tears of joy makes me want to find everyone who's done wrong by her in the past and beat on their heads until the space between their shoulders is concave, with their heads forcefully tucked into their torsos.

So...Is broke? I make fix! =)

* * *
In other news, I am becoming concerned about the goings on in my body. There is a pain in the second metatarsal of my left foot, and that could simply be related to the fact that the second toe had 66% of itself removed. Simple enough, right?

Except that my nose has been itching rather madly the past two nights.

"Ummm...Rob? Your foot hurts and your nose itches. You do realize that they're on opposite ends of the body, right?"

Yeah...except the nose is a breeding ground for MRSA, (pronounces "mer-sah), which is Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus. It could be a sign that, while caring tending to the surgical site, (and foot in general), I've managed to spread the infection from my foot to my nose. Not sure how, but it's possible. And if I have MRSA...

*sigh* Here we go agaon, with time spent in the hospital to confirm it, and then a lengthy round of strong IV antibiotics. I won't have to be hospitalized the entire time, but there will have to be a few days to confirm it and set up a PICC line. Even better will be the enforced limited contact between Becky and I, as it's contagious. Hoo-freakin'-rah.

I'm going to try to hold out for the doctor appointment I have on Wednesday to have stitches removed. Here's hoping it's all in my head.

Be well, and DFTBA.

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