I was just talking to my DH last night about a time shortly before my hysterectomy, when I woke up in the middle of the might and (spoiler-fonted for girly TMI) the sheets on my side were soaked with blood. He woke up and was SO unruffled, even though it was deep at night I kept apologizing for waking him up, but he wouldn't let me, and he got me into the shower. When I got back to bed, he'd changed the sheets and laid out fresh pajamas. He still doesn't see why I think what he did was a big deal.

Before Hubby and I were married but while we were living together, I had an artery in my sinuses burst due to an allergic reaction to mold. He hauled me into the ER four times that night, then nursed me through the two days of recovery from having my sinuses packed and the blood loss. A couple of months later we decided we needed to be married.

Every time Steve would get into the apology routine I would ask him straight out if he would do the same for me. I knew absolutely he would, and he did too. This partnership thing isn't for just the fun times!

My condolences to Laura's family and anyone else dealing with that kind of crap.

Speaking of denial of mental illness...

Remember my cousin who used to live with me? Turns out he has been diagnosed with the Asperger's variant of ASD.

Refuses to believe it.

Even his mom looked it up and said, "That's it!"

I think I've gotten Hubby to stop saying "I don't deserve you." I said to him once, "So that means I should leave you and find someone I do deserve?" Men of the world, this is not a compliment!

In fun distraction news, while prepping a patient chart today my eyes noticed that the consulting MD was named Polter-Cow's real name. Okay, I found it amusing.

PC's mom would be so proud!

That was my first thought as I smiled at the chart.

He woke up and was SO unruffled, even though it was deep at night I kept apologizing for waking him up, but he wouldn't let me, and he got me into the shower. When I got back to bed, he'd changed the sheets and laid out fresh pajamas. He still doesn't see why I think what he did was a big deal.

I had stomach flu bad enough to send me to the ER once, and it entailed my poo being where it shouldn't be, and Tim cleaning it up. I kind of had to marry him, because no one else will deal with my shit. Literally.

I admired my former (and late) mother-in-law for being one of the few wives who stayed with the men with facial injuries who returned on the hospital ship with my ex's father. The vets with face and jaw injuries from the Italian campaign were evacuated together to an Army plastic surgery center. While his face was being put back together, she lived for two years with a toddler in a tiny house that was part of row on row of tiny houses they threw together for families. When I met my FiL, I could tell that the bottom half of his face was scar tissue, but it wasn't terribly noticeable. It was apparently horrifying in the early years. He took up photography and managed to stay out of any pictures for about 20 years.