Yes, my husband is getting older. No, I don’t care what my body says, or my doctor says, I celebrated my first 29th birthday about 14 years ago, and stopped having any more birthdays then so I am forever 29. End of THAT story.
My husband is 47. He thinks he looks older than he is, and he may to you at first. His hair is graying rapidly and, as he says, “what isn’t going gray is going away.” But when you look a little closer, he really doesn’t look his age. His face doesn’t even have laugh lines, though he laughs quite a bit. No wrinkles. No crow’s feet. Nothing. Nada. (Quite disgusting really, as this 29-year-old has begun to see such things along with a touch of sagging, and loss of “glow.”) If you forget about his hair (or lack of it), he really looks very good for his age. (Why is it that men get BETTER looking with age while women just age?)
That said, his doctor’s appointment did not go as well as he hoped yesterday. Not only is his ferritin levels are low, his total iron count is low, his B-12 levels are low, and his cholesterol is high. We’ve been battling his blood pressure, but with two boys under the age of 10 THAT is a losing battle! So now he’s taking a few more pills. I think I counted 5 in his hand last night.
5 Pills. That’s not so bad. I take 3 in the morning — iron, cholesterol, and one to keep me from killing those small demon-monkeys I mentioned above :-). At my age of 29 (don’t argue. I’m 29.), that doesn’t sound very good. But at 47, 5 pills really isn’t bad. I know people younger that take many more pills. He thinks he now has to take “a handful of pills” every night. That’s not a handful.
He doesn’t realize his health could be SO much worse. He could have heart trouble, after all, his cholesterol could have caused a heart attack by now. He could be anemic because that runs in his family. He could have lung problems because we both smoked for over 20 years. (Yes, I must have started at 9 to have smoked that long.) He could have all of the above. His health could be so, so much worse. Count your blessings, Dear. Even those demon-monkey offspring you call boys. Even me, though reading this he might not be so happy with me either right now.
Dear Husband: Get. Over. It. Things could be worse. And I would much rather see you swallow a handful of pills 10 times the size of what you have, than to lose you. I would rather force them down your throat myself than watch terrified as you slipped away from me due to any number of things that COULD go wrong. I pray to God thanking Him for gifting you to me. I pray to God asking, begging Him not to take you away from me. You are my 3rd biggest miracle (the first 2 being those demon-monkey boys, of course). And I don’t want to lose you.
I know I complain, and I’m bossy, and I drive you insane; but I love you. More than you know. More than you can imagine. So take your pills and count your blessings. It could be so much worse. And it very well might get worse. But I will love you through all of it. Until Death do us part. . . . but let’s not rush it, okay?