Last week I was unintentionally cruel to the husband during his appointment with his heart failure specialist. At the end of the appointment the doctor turned to me and asked me how I was doing. Always nice to get recognized for being such an attentive caregiver, but somehow mostly asked to me in front of the one person who I cannot be honest in front of. I would never say how hard it's been or how I struggle with resentment in front of my husband. For one, he would make the argument that this ordeal hasn't been hard on me, because he tries not to be more of a burden than he obviously is. This is true, he is not one for the drama. On the one hand he rarely complains, and doesn't ask for much. But on the other hand, not complaining also means that he is ignoring his own symptoms which I need to be aware of to take proper care of him. I am a pinch traumatized about him admitting to the ER doctor that he had been having chest pains before being admitted the last time. Then I am left to wonder if he was telling the doctor the answer he thought they wanted to hear, because he often does answer that way, or if he really was ignoring chest pains while suffering from congestive heart failure. Also, he doesn't ask for help and then he falls, and I don't have to explain about that.
Anyways, back to the topic. It was the end of the husband's appointment and the doctor asked if I had help coming into the house (NO) or if our kids were still around to help (NOPE) and then I said their ages. The doctor said he was at the beginning of his parenting journey. His kids are 8 months and 3 years old. I clasped my hands together and declared my love and adoration for babies. He whipped out his phone to show me pictures. I got misty eyed looking at his beautiful little girls. I asked if they had grandparents around. He said NO, so I joked about me being the Auntie and watching his kids (I want to be around babies, like you wouldn't believe!) and said he should have called me when the husband was in the rehab and I had free time. AND there you go. Ouch. It just came out and I didn't mean to be mean. I think that stung a bit. When we got back into the car to drive home after the visit I said something about the husband's father, who died right before 29 turned 3 years old. And the husband angrily says "Don't talk about my dad you didn't even know him!" I was speechless. SPEECHLESS. For about 10 seconds..... and then I told him (while choking on tears) that he had no idea that I had a whole relationship with his dad that he was not present for. (All the truth) And I listed all of the times his dad used to come and see me, and then come visit me and 29, and all the things we used to do together. I couldn't believe that he was saying what he was saying. I loved his dad and his dad loved us, and it was cruel of him to try to take that away.
It wasn't until after I had stopped talking that I realized that his reaction may have been partly from anger after hearing me being too friendly and casual with his doctor. Also, pointing out that I was unable to do things because I am taking care of him. And then I wondered about how he could trick himself into believing what he said. Was he at work when all of this was happening between me and his dad? Yeah, duh, but didn't I tell him? I know I would have told him that I was hanging out with his dad. I think it boils back down to the very basic tenant of his existence which has always been some version of "If the husband doesn't feel the pain then the pain doesn't exist." He was not present for the relationship between me and his dad and therefe even if it did exist it was inconsequential. I find the thought of thinking like that terrifying. I wouldn't want to step into that brain for even a few seconds.
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