When Wanda would get sick I would stay by her side. I would try to get her things and take care of her. But sometimes life would get in the way. I would need to go to work or I would have other obligations and she was left to fend for herself. With her medical background she would usually be able to self-diagnose and self treat so we seldom involved a doctor. But then came the day when she really needed a doctor. And a nurse. And a radiologist. And all those other people I keep getting bills from. And during that time I made sure life didn't get in the way. The ICU nurse was kind enough to let me visit after regular visiting hours so, for the last time, I was able to sleep beside my wife. I believe the nurses could see the writing on the wall and they didn't want to deprive me of that opportunity.
So today, after church and after visiting with family and friends I found my way home. I took some medicine and I was forced to lie around and do nothing. And that's when it's the toughest. Left alone to our thoughts, those of us battling grief seldom think good thoughts. And having no one there to share the grief only makes it worse. In my case I honestly (and perhaps I'm being too honest in these blog posts?) fight with Angry Me. And Angry Me doesn't want to be good. Angry Me wants to throw things and get in trouble. Perhaps because Angry Me needs to be punished. Or perhaps Angry Me needs to be talked down. Fortunately for everyone, Angry Me was alone and he went away sooner rather than later.
As the medication kicks in and starts to make me feel fewer symptoms of this cold, I'm reminded that the scripture says that a merry heart does good like a medicine. I believe that scripture to be true.
The problem is when the nurse goes away and takes that medicine with her.
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