Deep

I spoke to Evan on speaker phone in front of the husband and when I hung up with Evan the husband looked up at me and exclaimed “His voice is getting so deep!” Getting? If I were being filmed for a documentary on caretakers we would cut away to me in the confessional shrugging with confusion right now.

I don’t know how old the husband thinks Evan is, or maybe he never just listened to Evan before, but his voice got deep over 10 years ago. It was tender sweet (because he genuinely looked amazed there in that moment) and terrifying at the same time.

I just agreed with him. That’s how I do it these days. It makes everything smoother for the husband but every time I agree with something just for the sake of not upsetting the husband my insides twist into an ever so slightly tighter knot.

I don’t think I’m past the intense anger I have for the original wound care hospital. My stomach has been sick for the last few days. I’m having anxiety attacks. I have to remind myself to take in air every now and again. Coping with the husband is a full time job. I can’t let the negligence of the hospital get in the way of the job I have to do here. The anger will make me sick.

Sometimes I’m afraid to ask what the husband is thinking. I want to know and I don’t want to know at the same time. I just hope he doesn’t get upset. I keep telling him the only thing he has to remember is that I will take care of him.