Cleaning up my throw up.
Yep, you read right. I had a rough week as far as my body is concerned. I came home from work Tuesday in immense pain from cysts on my ovaries making my endometriosis flare up to no end. When my body couldn't take the pain any longer I threw up down the hall, all over the bathroom, all over me, and finally into the toilet. TMI, I know, but I don't really care. The last time I threw up was in 11th grade when I had the flu, so it was a surprise to me. I felt like I was five years old and unable to make it to the bathroom on time. Gregg was right behind and said
"Just go to bed I'll clean up everything." Well, I had to shower first, but when I got out I had clean clothes waiting on the bed and a garbage can next to the bed in case I had another episode. (Which I did.)
The point of all this is to share what a great husband I have. He has a horrible gag reflex and yet throughout the years he has cleaned up my puke, emptied my bed pans, held my hand while I screamed at a gyno appt, gone to the store millions of times to buy "feminine" products, and given me blessing after blessing to comfort and heal my broken body and heart.
I'm positive he got the raw end of the deal when we said
"I do." We're still standing
seven years later. We've been a little beaten up a long the way, but we're stronger and blessed beyond comprehension.
Happy Anniversary.