Nursed, to Death

Sorry it’s been a while since my last mid-week musing.  My beautiful husband has been a bit ill of late (nothing drastic, just seasonal ‘flu).  He is, however, feeling much better now.  I am a rather useless nurse, the ‘sickness & health’ vow is the one I struggle with the most.  The meals I prepared for us during his convalescence consisted of the following:

Night 1: Eggs on toast.

Night 2: He didn’t feel up to eating anything – I made Weet-Bix for myself.

Night 3: Pumpkin soup – yes, from a can but I heated it on the stove.

Luckily for us both he was feeling a lot better by Night 4.  You may have realised from this who does most of the cooking in our household.  I can make a really good cake though, so dessert is always sorted, and I compensate for my lack of culinary talent in other ways, e.g. I am no slacker around the house – on my last day off, for instance, I washed the exterior of the house – by hand with bucket and cloth.  This took about three and a half hours and I was had it by the end!  House looks lovely though.  Other than for reasons of pride, a clean house requires less frequent painting (seriously!) and having taken so long to paint it, I am not keen to revisit that sooner than is necessary!!

We caught up with my Dad a couple of Saturdays ago.  Whilst there, Dad received a phone call from his friend’s son to say that his father (my Dad’s friend) passed away a couple of days ago.  My Dad was quite stoic, which is just how he is.  I think I was initially more upset than he.  Dad and his friend had been mates for decades (since the age of 10).  He was Dad’s best man at his wedding and they lived only a couple of streets from each other.  They’d shared a lifetime of memories and friendship.  My husband and I stayed a bit longer than usual that day to ensure Dad really was OK.  I also rang the next day to check on him (under the pretext of organising a dinner get-together to spare his masculine pride).  Dad seems to be doing fine.  He is a very practical man and very matter-of-fact.  Some people may perceive Dad not being overly dramatic or gushy when his friend dies as coldness; personally I don’t judge him for the way he’s dealing with his loss, as grief is a very personal thing and everyone reacts differently.  The feelings can change vastly from day to day or even hour by hour.  I believe our reactions can also be age-related, and some of us simply become more accepting of our humanity as we age, which is a positive and healthy outlook really.

4 thoughts on “Nursed, to Death

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