When you fall in love

My faith has taken a real beating lately. 

I tell myself, focus on the good things.  The business is in a great, permanent location.  The machines are healthy. We do have a stockroom.  Sure, our area is tiny, and we don't even have a door, but we have a stockroom.  The other vendor has been low-key, and pretty delighted to hear I'd get sandwiches for them. 

I have to go out on a very busy and crowded loading dock to get the delivery.  The guy who gets the delivery has a disability.  It's better if I do it.  I have to go out there anyway to get my delivery.  It's easy enough to throw theirs on my cart.  They're right around the corner from my machines.  Not a big deal.  And God doesn't want me to be a hater. 

I just wonder why God had to allow Ron to hurt his back.  Hasn't Ron suffered enough?  It's horrible watching him try to get out of the wheelchair, yelp, and collapse.  I don't mind pushing him in the chair.  I don't mind the added physical activity. 

I mind, terribly, watching him suffer.  He had so many problems to begin with, why more? 

He's blind. 

He has over a 50% hearing loss. 

He is partly paralyzed on his right side. 

He has a head injury, with memory and impulse control issues.

He has neuropathy, and can't be touched on his back, chest, or abdomen.  Legs are pretty iffy too.  Feet are very painful on standing.  Allergic reaction to Bactrim.  Oddly enough, I'm currently taking said antibiotic for my bladder infection. 

I went through this about a year after Ron's accident - depression, faith crisis.  I went through it again in 2008 when he had the allergic reaction/neuropathy.  Last year when he got diabetic blisters from overuse of the back massager for his neuropathy.  This year with the back issue. 

I can't describe the sheer awful.   Watching him climb into the wheelchair, very carefully, from his bed.  Rolls himself to the next door bathroom.  Parks the brake on the wheelchair.  Groaning, stand up very slowly, back hunched, 90 degree angle to his legs, face towards the floor.  Pulling himself into the bathroom with his hands on the doorframe.  The same in reverse when he's done. 

Yes, I'm glad he can do that on his own.  I'm happy he's not in pain unless he tries to stand up.  He hates to ask me for help because he doesn't want to "bother" me.  I like to think I'm gracious about helping, and he's said I'm "wonderful". 

But he can't even stock sodas anymore.  If they get too high he'd have to stand, and he can't.  So he sits there with half a case of soda in his lap asking for help. 

It makes me want to cry, scream, and throw something very heavy out a window. 

It's just not fair.  I remember standing by Ron's hospital bed, 11 years ago, thinking "I could just walk away. No one would fault me."  But, my code, my faith, and my love for Ron have kept me going. 

That's not who I am.  But I recall thinking, bitterly, how I had enslaved myself - made myself a hostage to his health.  How Ron's progress, good or ill, completely defined my days, my every mood, my hopes and fears.  [shrug]  No one tells you about this when you fall in love. 

They don't tell you that you'll hurt as bad, or worse, when your loved one is suffering.  I know Ron goes through this when I have a bad depression (the moderate to mild ones, I can fake it pretty well).  I don't want anyone to think I'm the only one crying here.  I know it's incredibly hard for Ron, too. 

That's the other thing - it makes me love him so much, makes me so angry that he's allowed to suffer: Ron has such an amazing attitude.  He's calm, sweet, respectful, appreciative, and a real joy to help.  He doesn't get upset at stupid questions.  He's patient, he endures. 

I'll refer you back to my comment about throwing something heavy out a window.