As last summer approached I had developed a daily routine, a schedule. I woke early, started chores, prepped dinner, and was in my little kiddie pool by 11:00 a.m. where I did weightless activity in addition to stretching in an attempt to restore bodily function lost over many years. 

Dinner was ready and served by 3:30 p.m. on a regular basis and I was in bed early in order to rise early. 

I was improving myself in all ways and I knew that if I didn’t put myself first that there wouldn’t be any me, or us.

I’m able to snap to a new situation, adapt, be on top of a crisis. I may not like it, or even want to, but I do. 

Upon my husband’s last hospitalization a couple of months ago, I really had to decide how I would manage both of us. I chose him. 

He’s lost an incredible amount of weight in just a few months. Coronary Heart Disease, Diabetes, and Chronic Pain Syndrome are his main diagnosis’.

Weight loss isn’t from the illnesses, but from life changes.  

He doesnt have CRPS/RSD. There’s a difference between the CRPS and CPS. 

He returned to work late August. My schedule and routine was altered in order to coincide with his. I’m usually up in the morning before he is, but not as early as I had been. I’m up when he arrives home from work and I have his dinner hot and ready. 

I get a nap each evening between 6-7 p.m. with a little variation and a couple of dozes. Generally by 7:30 p.m. I wake back up and make an espresso. At that time there’s still nearly 4 hours before he gets home.

I still batch cook food to freeze. This affords me a heat and serve night. 

I’ve pretty much disconnected myself from people. Places and things remain the same (isolation). Other than painting, playing scrabble, drum, Spanish, and the courses I’m studying from home it’s where I stay. 

Last night I was making our dinner. The stove caught on fire. 

When he got home less than an hour later, he said ahhh it smells so good. I wanted to smile. Tears started to rain as I told him to go look at the kitchen thinking.he’d be upset. 

He came back, hugged me tightly, kissed me and told me I did everything right to put that fire out. 

Well shit! I don’t want to to do everything right. I pretend I can. Oh poor whoa is me, right? Nope!

I don’t want to know how to live without him. 

And so,

His life remains my priority, 

32 years in 5 months. 

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