This Is A Test
No matter how much you love someone, if you have ever had to play nurse maid to them after an injury, you know that it will test the strength of that love. Even the best of us have our limits when it comes to the added stress to our mental and physical health.
In less than one year I have had to play nurse maid due to injuries he has sustained. Last spring it was surgery on his Achilles tendon, and now he has a broken right arm (he is right handed). Now, this would be difficult enough with most men, but if you live with an Italian man it's a whole different world.
On a good day, when they are healthy, they can be demanding enough. Let's face it, their mothers have made these Italian men think they are the greatest gift ever. In their mind they can't imagine that anyone wouldn't want to take care of them - after all it must be a joy to do so. Of course they don't realize they are delusional. Add to this an injury and your life is no longer your own.
It was difficult enough with the Achilles tendon surgery since he couldn't walk on his leg properly for quite some time, but at least he had the use of his hands. A broken arm is a nightmare. There is almost nothing he can do for himself, so you know who has to do it. Not only do I have to allow time to get myself ready for work in the morning, but I need to help him get through the shower, dressed, with the shoulder brace and sling on. If it has snowed overnight, I then have to add shoveling or snow blowing to start the day.
This will take 12-16 weeks for full recovery, and I can only hope he can start using his arm/hand sooner than later. When he talks to his twin brother on the phone he puts it on speaker - I truly do not want to be a part of his conversation, but they can't hold the phone as that would be too difficult. When he needs something he wants it immediately; God forbid he have to wait a minute while I finish what I am doing. I tell him all the time if the tables were turned, I probably wouldn't get a shower for days. You get to a point where you have to joke about it to survive.
It has only been 3 weeks and I am starting to lose my mind. I have become accustomed to some quiet time on Sundays when he works, but will not have any quiet time for weeks to come. So, each morning I pray for patience. Without patience, love, and a sense of humor, I would probably run away. A secluded, sunny beach sounds like a great place to be right now.
In less than one year I have had to play nurse maid due to injuries he has sustained. Last spring it was surgery on his Achilles tendon, and now he has a broken right arm (he is right handed). Now, this would be difficult enough with most men, but if you live with an Italian man it's a whole different world.
On a good day, when they are healthy, they can be demanding enough. Let's face it, their mothers have made these Italian men think they are the greatest gift ever. In their mind they can't imagine that anyone wouldn't want to take care of them - after all it must be a joy to do so. Of course they don't realize they are delusional. Add to this an injury and your life is no longer your own.
It was difficult enough with the Achilles tendon surgery since he couldn't walk on his leg properly for quite some time, but at least he had the use of his hands. A broken arm is a nightmare. There is almost nothing he can do for himself, so you know who has to do it. Not only do I have to allow time to get myself ready for work in the morning, but I need to help him get through the shower, dressed, with the shoulder brace and sling on. If it has snowed overnight, I then have to add shoveling or snow blowing to start the day.
This will take 12-16 weeks for full recovery, and I can only hope he can start using his arm/hand sooner than later. When he talks to his twin brother on the phone he puts it on speaker - I truly do not want to be a part of his conversation, but they can't hold the phone as that would be too difficult. When he needs something he wants it immediately; God forbid he have to wait a minute while I finish what I am doing. I tell him all the time if the tables were turned, I probably wouldn't get a shower for days. You get to a point where you have to joke about it to survive.
It has only been 3 weeks and I am starting to lose my mind. I have become accustomed to some quiet time on Sundays when he works, but will not have any quiet time for weeks to come. So, each morning I pray for patience. Without patience, love, and a sense of humor, I would probably run away. A secluded, sunny beach sounds like a great place to be right now.
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