exhausted, i crash
into a fitful sleep, where
dreams evade me, still


I've been up for a half hour.  In that half hour, I have put Bob in his shower chair, put the dogs out, fed the dogs, made coffee, made Bob's lunch, washed the dishes, moved the christmas decorations downstairs, and opened up my computer. 

It's been strained here at home the last few weeks.  Ever since Christmas, with the blow back from Bob's issue with his medication - I've just been - hollow. 

Everyone praises my husband - so brave, so stubborn, so defiant of his limitations.  So amazing he still works, still faces down his disease, has a life and travels.  For pete's sake, I feel the same, most days.  He's amazing.  But no one praises me.  The one who wakes up early so that I can get him ready for his nurse who gets him ready for work.  Who makes all his meals.  Who orders and picks up his blister packs.  Who arranges my schedule to accomodate him.  Who goes to value village to find the right carrier for under his wheelchair so he can bring the right medical aids to work, unseen.  Who does laundry before she leaves for work and laundry when she is making dinner, because he works 8 hours a day and can't always transfer well in the washroom.  Who calls pre-emptively to restaurants to ensure they're wheelchair friendly, who books friends and events, who has to get someone to stay here with him when I need a break, who takes off work for all his appointments, who gets talked to like shit when he's frustrated that his MS steals all the joy.  Who gets him in and out of the car, who finds parking, who pushes him up streets, who has her meals interrupted to take him to the washroom - so that you all can say how amazing he is for showing up for a dinner party.

The one who has had her marriage - her wonderful, equal, spirited marriage - reduced to caregiving and administrative tasks.  Who sees her husband giving his best to work, and trying to live his best life, while mine dwindles away.

A little woe is me, this post.  I'm sorry for that.  January blahs, or another readjustment to my life.  I miss what I had so much these last few weeks - and I feel a little melancholic that all that I loved about my marriage is slipping away.  He's still here - and I adore him - but I feel, some days, that I'm tapdancing through a musical without the orchestra to support.