Yesterday my husband had his exercise stress test. Basically, that meant wiring him up, exercising the crap out of him and then giving him an angiogram. He passed on all counts. This is good. This is really good. Of course, he now has to go back to the cardiologist for ‘interpretation’ and it is those appointments that I don’t like because in the past they have resulted in the doctor saying things that make me consider our future as possibly precarious and I get upset. Also, last time, there was an adjustment of medication that really escalated side effects and neither of us was very happy with the results.
But last night I had an epiphany, while I was lying wakeful. It was that even if I was to lose my husband now, after only three years of him in my life, I would be left with feelings of mostly thankfulness for having had him at all.
Three years is not long enough and certainly the last twelve months have been incredibly testing for us as a couple (my father’s illness, his mother’s dying, my breast cancer, his heart attack, my father’s terminal diagnosis) but we have grown stronger and closer together through it all: it is a period of my life that, if it ended now, I could truly say that there was much happiness and for that, I am truly grateful.
He is much loved.