With all the snow, school cancellations,
and your recuperation from surgery last month, we ended up in the house for one whole week. While I enjoyed our week off together, I came to the realization that I cannot and must not ever retire.

Where’s the remote? Can you get me a drink? Have you seen my medicine? Did I take this pill one hour ago or two hours ago? Don’t you think you should go out and clean off the cars? Who was on the phone? What are we having for breakfast, or lunch or dinner? Shouldn’t you bring in some more wood in case it snows again? Do you think I will ever get well? Have you seen my book? Do you mind if I change the channel because I can’t move to the other room to watch TV? Do you think they will have school tomorrow? Do you think you can stay home with me so I won’t be by myself? Is it going to snow again tomorrow? Do you think you should take the dog out to go to the bathroom? Are these pajamas clean? Do you think I should take a shower today? I’m afraid I will hurt my boo-boo. This food doesn’t taste good. Do you think I have a fever?
Do you want to watch a movie with me?

Honestly, if I could have had the surgery for you, I would have. Your recuperation has gone amazingly well, you just don’t know it. You could have had some real problems with nausea and pain but that didn’t happen. I only had one issue. You never once combed your hair and every day your hair looked like you were pardoned two minutes after the switch was pulled.


You make it sound as if I complain all the time. You and I both know that is not true. Sometimes I’m sleeping, sometimes I’m eating, and sometimes I’m reading. Let me first of all say that you were a good nurse most of the time–when you weren’t texting, talking on the phone, playing in the fireplace, cleaning out the closets, playing on Pinterest, taking a nap, looking at a magazine or watching TV.

I might have asked a few questions now and then because I don’t like being cooped up at home. I like being with you and you did take care of me very well. Maybe my idea of being at home alone with my wife and your idea of being at home alone with your husband have different connotations. I thought we would lie around in bed talking about my surgery, how I’m going to conquer the world, how I’m going to confront my doctor about the minimum incision (his 1⁄2 inch turned into 10 inches), and his saying I might have a little pain turned into three bottles of pain medicine, no sleep for a week and a feeling when I walk that I personify the living dead.

The next time I’m scheduled for surgery, he is going to be really surprised when he sees your name on the docket because you volunteered to take my place. We need to rethink this retirement plan altogether. Maybe we could buy two bungalows side-by-side and just visit each other from time to time? I know that is a question, but it is the last one I will ask you today.

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