David's had a bad couple of weeks. He rallied briefly late last week, but this week has been hard again. Not sure what the underlying cause is, but his spasticity has been more difficult to control. I don't know what he did while I was out of town but probably not much more than sit around in front of the TV, which makes sense because he hasn't the strength in his legs to do much more, but which also makes things worse for him.
It's usually fairly easy not to lose my patience with him. David is the most patient person on the earth, and I find it easier to be patient myself because I know he will more than reciprocate. But I admit, recently it's been getting to me more. It's hard to come home in the evenings and find his messes all around the house, where he made toast and chocolate milk and walked away from the spills and crumbs. Or where he just didn't make the bed all day and there's cat fur all over my pillows. Or...but anyway.
I love him so deeply and dearly. I can't imagine life without him. He completes me in a way that no other man has ever done, and has taught me so much about men and about being a woman. We were meant to be together and we are both aware of this great gift of our love. So I really hate it when I lose my cool and get pissy with him. If he were whole, and healthy, and strong, I'd be jumping all over his butt for the kinds of things he leaves for me. But if he were all that, he'd be working, not sitting at home all day.
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