Having the best support.

It popped into my head earlier just how lucky I am to havr such a ridiculously supportive husband. When my relapse hit earlier this year,  he was there for just about whatever I needed – he even washed my hair for me – but he didn’t let me get away with silly shit.

When I had some parestheis (sp?) after taking a hot shower and lost the ability to pick up or carry our son, it terrified me so bad that I called him sobbing, in hopes he could settle me down.  He took off and came home for me in 20 minutes. He held me close and told me I was okay,  until I settled down enough to go to sleep.

He gives me my injections regularly, without flinching. I know many husbands who can’t.

He supports my transition to gluten-free with only a few eye-rolls, and I didn’t even get that when I told him I want to be strong enough to be on American Ninja Warrior in two years. He supports my every move – provided it’s not influenced too heavily by a brain that isn’t firing right – and encourages me to meet my goals.

I can only hope all people have the kind of marriage I do, with all its ups and downs. I wouldn’t be half as strong without him  by me every step of the way.


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