Bill had ACL repair surgery yesterday. They gave him a femoral block, and advised me post-op to be sure to give him his Percocet every four hours for the first 24 hours. The block may wear off suddenly, and nobody wants to be up in the middle of the night screaming in pain. He actually attempted to decline his 8 pm dose, but I explained why that was not a good idea.
At midnight, it was his voice and not that annoying alarm that roused me from sleep. I fetched a bit of bread so he could take his medicine with food and leaned near his bedside groggily. I had that slightly sick feeling you get when awakened much too soon, and my primary thoughts centered around climbing back into bed as soon as he was done and trying not to faceplant beforehand.
He took my hand. “Happy anniversary.”
I smiled. It was the next day already, and he remembered.
He apologized for the less than ideal circumstances of this anniversary, our thirteenth. “I can think of no better way to spend it,” I murmured. Even half-awake, I had the clarity to appreciate this opportunity to love him, honor him, and serve him when he needs me. While it is nice to recall those heady days of courtship on a marriage anniversary, it is also fitting to remember those vows of commitment “for better or for worse.”
May these thought sustain me through the next few days and weeks as he recovers.