It’s been a short decade since New Year’s Day became my dedicated day for sorting miscellaneous paperwork and receipts and preparing to file taxes.
It’s an unfortunate luxury; having time to dedicate.
There wasn’t that kind of time in my life with Jeff. We were too busy cramming love and fun in between hospital visits and medical appointments.
Fun was anything and everything.
Eating dinner. Folding laundry. Grocery runs. Anything hot sauce or store related. Puppy playtime. Kitty cuddle time. Diner breakfasts. Church. Anything NASCAR. Talking about our day. Watching TV. Just being in the same room together. Anything we did, together.
Fun was everything, every day.
Except for the scary moments, hours, sometimes days of broadening health failures. Those were downs. The downs started coming more quickly in 2006.
Medication adjustments didn’t always solve the problem. Jeff was unhealthy enough to be excluded from certain paths. Being told Jeff didn’t qualify for next level treatments, wrecked me. Many times, it seemed I’d be more upset than he was.
“Let’s just leave it,” he’d sigh. “Docs know what they’re doin’. They went to school for that.”
He’d say, “Don’t be upset. It wasn’t meant to be.”
Or, he’d say, “It’s ok. Something better will come up.”
It wasn’t ok with me. I searched out medical articles, suggested seeing different doctors, trying non-medical over-the-counter remedies. I checked on available studies and made him apply.
He did get into one. Before the wrist band fitness tracker craze, Jeff was given a combination glucometer/pedometer that had the ability to down-load data and a variety of noise choices.
They day he got it, I was in the kitchen emptying my lunch bag after work, when Jeff strolled in.
Hey, check this out!” he laughed. “The faster you go, the faster the music….”
He then proceeded to take circular baby-steps while wildly swinging the pedometer. The music sped up to a maniacal pace.
“That isn’t really getting you anywhere,” I scowled. “Yeah, I know,” he shrugged. “But, I’d never be able to make it go that fast walkin’ and it sure is fun!”
I was disappointed when he did not get into a test-trial for a new drug formulation. “Well,” he commented after reading the rejection letter. “It was just another pill, anyway, and my tackle box is full-up.”
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