This morning, my husband had a minor procedure at the doctor’s office. He didn’t need anesthesia or anything like that, but since we already knew he would need some stitches, I took a day off work to drive him there and back, and to take care of him and make sure he didn’t get the wild and bright idea to go mow the lawn or stack bricks or rebuild the deck while he has a fresh wound.
I’ve already had to tell him more than once to stop bending over, picking things up, or trying to do all sorts of random household chores, but he’s finally given up on defying doctor’s orders (for now) and is resting on the couch. I brought my work laptop home to keep up with emails, so I have set up shop at the dining room table, where I can keep an eye on him and make sure he’s not sneakily removing his own stitches with his pocketknife or any other covert actions that would most definitely be frowned upon by his doctor.
I find myself glancing over at him to see how he’s doing and just end up smiling. It’s rare to catch him sitting quietly, not joking around, or acting up, or picking at me or trying to get me to laugh.
On the way to the doctor this morning, he informed me in a very serious tone that he had researched this particular procedure at length, and the best method to ensure his speedy recovery is a healthy dose of spirited sex. When I told him I would need a list of credible sources for this research, he pretended to be horrified by my doubt, then expounded upon his newfound knowledge and shared which specific acts might best aid his rehabilitation.
I’m going to shut down my laptop soon and go sit with him. I am glad we have this day together today, although of course I’m sure he would have preferred to do so without the doctor visit this morning. I joke with him and pick back at him, but I like taking care of him. He takes such good care of me, and he deserves to relax and let me help him out for a while. Who knows? We might even test some of his “research” to aid his recovery 🙂






