When it comes to my health, I’ve relied on my good instincts first. This stubborn notion probably emerged shortly after birth, once I figured out my mom kept all the superpowers. I knew that any menace barrelling through her three daughters’ lives had to wheedle its way past her before anyone else—particularly since my dad, the family physician, opted to divert all of his energies toward his patients.
But here I am, at 57, in the middle of a health break-down like I haven’t seen in decades. I’ve had to change my tune. Help me, dear hubby: I can’t do this by myself has become my new mantra, my daily whimper. Despite pretending to myself and the world I am a free-standing, don’t-cross-me, badass woman, I’ve found a blind spot. I need help when I’m stuck. Forget stubborn self-reliance. God help me. I’ll have to ask a man.
And God help me—when I asked for one this time, he showed up.
Thanks to that experiment, my rebirthed, wiser self now issues words of gratitude: Thank you, dear hubby; you’ve got my back. Thank you for reminding me; you’ve had my back since Day One.
I suffer from something called ulcerative colitis. It’s a chronic, inflammatory bowel disease, one that’s been on a low boil for ages. In fact, I’ve revelled in avoiding epic flare-ups since my son was born almost twenty-two years ago. I got cocky about my lengthy remission. I even offered fellow sufferers unsolicited advice. I thought I was doing everything right. Diabolical Dana: untouchable. Certain, I was, that my restorative yoga, moderate imbibing of wine and chocolate, and regular visits to massage therapists and naturopaths were keeping its key trigger—stress—at bay.
Turns out I might have benefited from watching my supermom a little closer. Even though she was heroic in handling her daughters’ crises, there is only so much one human can do against the vagaries of the universe. For whatever reason, I am now sick. I need reinforcements. I’ve had to call in the specialists. Knock back the system-resuscitating meds. I’ve had to stoop over my distended belly on the really bad days, and ask someone to guide me up the stairs.
And who would that person be who takes my hand you might ask? You guessed it—my dear, sweet husband.
Just this morning I was cradling my torn-up insides with one hand while madly rummaging through the fridge with the other, certain I couldn’t function till I’d found my probiotics. Hubby dropped whatever he was doing and joined me. He searched the house, bravely thrusting his fingers through dark bathroom drawers covered in sticky, unidentified residue.
I beleaguer you with my list of physical woes not to burden you—I’m acutely aware people endure far worse, and often in silence. But rather, I want to put hubby in the spotlight as a way to atone for my many years of expecting so little from men—from “good old white guys” for that matter—from feeling, as the mother of four boys, that guys were secretly being led by the more powerful sex.
Just this morning I was cradling my torn-up insides with one hand while madly rummaging through the fridge with the other, certain I couldn’t function till I’d found my probiotics. Hubby dropped whatever he was doing and joined me. He searched the house, bravely thrusting his fingers through dark bathroom drawers covered in sticky, unidentified residue. When we called off the search, he rushed out to the pharmacy to pick up more without prompting, only to learn I’d found said probiotics at the back of the fridge just after he’d left.
He heard the news, shrugged, and handed me the new bottle—without complaint.
Since he’s been home for the past two weeks—a high school teacher on spring break—he’s pretty much cleared the decks for anything his wife needs. This includes backrubs, random grocery store runs, embarrassing sample drop-offs at the lab, “accident cleanups,” and an ongoing interest in my day-to-day sick person report.
Lord love him—he actually sounds interested. What’s more, he has set aside any of the fun or relaxing stuff he might have planned for his hard-earned break this year—a brutally exhausting one thanks to the curriculum overhauls required in a global pandemic. He keeps himself at the ready for ailing wifey, plus any unanticipated dog or child catastrophes, instead.
Exhausted, weakened, and worried, I keep reaching out to him. The heck with stoicism. Nobody needs another patient letting herself go, only to show up in Emergency during these hard times. Nope: hubby to the rescue. He hasn’t let me down yet.
As the daughter of a father too troubled to ever be there for his daughters like he should have been, I feel enlightened. All those years of assuming the big lesson was to grow strong standing on my own size-six woman-feet. All those years of thinking a tree bending its branches toward the sun struck a pose of vulnerability, rather than grace. All it took was just to ask. To find the right guy, and just ask.
I am so endlessly grateful for my dependable husband, in sickness and in health. I got it wrong. Men and women, we need each other—no matter what. Sounds pretty straightforward, but it’s sure taken me a while. What a blessing to finally figure that out.
Beautifully written Dana, and a conclusion full of wisdom:))
Thank you, Dayle. I so appreciate your support of my blog.
Hi Dana
Sorry you have been so unwell . We forget to ask for help us “ get it all done” mommas.
Take care of yourself
Thanks so much, Anna. You are definitely one of the super-cape wearers who gets it. Stay well. xx
That hubby of yours has always been a gem! Deep down even way back the self-sufficient Dana knew instinctively what good to choose for herself. I’m grateful he’s there for you in your time of need – please give him a big hug from me! And wishing you better health very soon with all my heart! Nothing like an illness like that to humble us and teach us to appreciate the good things – but enough already, lesson learned, right?
So true, Micki. But stubborn self-sufficient Dana keeps needing to have these things pointed out again and again just the same. I hope I’ve learned my lesson, but in case I forget, feel free to remind me. 🙂 xo
Ha ha, no I didn’t mean “lesson learned” about how great your hubby is – you have recognized that for years! What I meant was more like: “Dear Universe, if you’re trying to teach me a lesson in humility and appreciation, I have learned it. Now enough already with the illness!” With your great writing wit, the Universe is bound to listen! (Plus, don’t you have some good karma still saved up?)
I’m so sorry to hear you’ve had a nasty relapse, Dana. You really do push on until you can’t stand up straight. Craziness! For however long it takes until that wretched ulcerative colitis is beaten back yet again, I don’t think I’d have expected less from that uncommonly fine husband of yours (call me biased as an auntie…). He was a kind kid, always a protective friend, and hasn’t changed. It’s indeed beyond wonderful to have someone you know will always be there for you. I’m assuming you’re doing all it takes to win the wrestling match with your gut. Rest! Good God, does this mean you may neither imbibe nor eat chocolate for an indefinite period?? Too cruel. Hang in, girl. If nothing else during all the discomfort, I at least know you’re being loved and well looked after.
Thank you so much, Irene. I will pass on all of your kind comments to your nephew. I’m on the good meds now, so recovery shouldn’t be too far around the corner. 🙂
I hope those are super-meds! Who needs more gut-wrenching (literally) stress after the last insane twelve months?
Thanks, Irene. They are super-meds indeed. Hurrah for super-meds!! 🙂
Dearest Dana,
I had no idea that you were experiencing this level of physical stress…forever optimistic and positive, my glass half-full friend!! Please let me assist you in any way possible. Don’t hesitate to call, even to chat.
Brilliant sample of your creative writing talents, describing your teddy bear of a husband in perfect form. He is beyond kind and giving to everyone, but especially to his family and love of his life….
The two of you are a dynamic team and both Hugh and I love our times spent together.
I had my appendectomy yesterday and breezed through with flying colours…I am here and ready to demonstrate how much I value our friendship… Much love!
Lynn, thank you for your beautiful message. So like you to be always thinking of others when you’re right in the middle of your own health woes. I’m SO glad the appendectomy went well and that you don’t have to have that extra worry on your mind. You and Hugh rock. I am privileged to have you as a friend. Love you. I can’t wait till the two of us are in proper shape (and allowed) to properly celebrate
again. xo
Never be afraid to ask for help from the hubby. Sometimes we don’t always “notice” what’s needed right away (sorry) but will always jump to the rescue with support once called upon. And once in a while will surprise you by noticing on our own too.
Sorry for all you’re dealing with.