How the other half live.....

" I think that it is important to think of pain as your common enemy, not as a part of your wife or baggage that comes with her. It is something outside of both of you that impacts both of you and that can kill your marriage." Pete Beisner - 23 Tips for men on supporting a partner  with chronic pain.

As that cold breeze we've all noticed the past week blows in my sleepy, pale face on the walk to work it's a impending reminder that the season we chronically ill and immune suppressed dread the most, is almost upon us.
It's starts with our annual flu jab, hoarded in like cattle on Saturday morning as not to disrupt the 'normal' sick peoples appointments midweek, stabbed in the arm then sent on our way to feel lousy for a few days, then ends 5 months later rearing our pasty yet red nosed faces from under the duvet, recovering from our 6th or 7th virus, cold or stomach bug of the season.
Not quite in hibernation mode yet, like a human barometer, my body is already predicting the warning signs of the wintery months to come, the needle pointing decidedly firm at 'unsettled' with my chest a little tight, my throat sore and my body aching and creaking like an old boat. (Much more than usual anyway). Week by week I descend into the unknown, a multitude of germs squeaking with joy at the presence of my shitty immune system, my body the host for their two week caribbean holiday complete with pool party.
While the pressure in the weather changes, so does the pressure in our household and in our relationship. With winter,  comes the period where I am at my upmost reliant on the wonderful SuperMark. It coincides with the exact same moment in space and time that Mark worries most about me and the potential outcome of me becoming ill with the simplest of ailments.

For the next 5 months our priorities change dramatically and the nuptial promises of 'In sickness and in health' are used to the fullest capacity.  Already the bathroom is overdue a wipe and the washbasket bursting at the seams, all because I have felt a little rubbish this past week and my day off will simply be to lay on the couch and rest. The limited time Mark has after work is spent making sure we eat and that the kitchen doesn't start to resemble something like one of those scruffy eccentrics they feature on channel 4 TV programmes.
But living with somebody like me takes a lot more than just being prepared to take on the household chores when I'm sick.  With the latest virus taking host, the equal partnership of our marriage becomes very one sided, with each frosty day the increasing fear of antibiotics goes hand in hand with me having to rely on Mark to do everything whilst feeling helpless and guilty for not functioning properly... I call it the chronic guilt.   A burden we chronically ill drag around with us every day like a misbehaving child in full tantrum mode, reminding you that you always need help, embarrassing you in public places and often getting looks of misplaced sympathy or disapproval at your inability to cope.

It's true to say that going through a traumatic experience as a couple can make or break the relationship. As the other half of a lupus sufferer it's the one perspective that's difficult to understand for us. Swamped with our own anxieties and pain, we are often the most selfish half of the relationship, and that is presuming the relationship is on steady ground. It's so easy to become so self involved with your own misfortune that you disregard the view from the other side of the bridge, slipping into a destructive  routine of him giving and you taking.  Surely it's important to remember that you mustn't take all this extra care, support and attention given as expected?  If asked to describe how Mark copes with my illness and why he didn't run a mile while he had the chance, I wouldn't know where to begin and would probably trivialise the question by saying something sarcastic like 'he's a glutton for punishment.'

Setting aside my fear about the future, I do feel an incredible sadness that the life we initially hoped for together has inevitably changed, that the life he is tied to with me, is of far less a quality than what he truly deserves.  I do not wish upon him the constant fear or worry that my condition could change at any time,  the expectation to rely on him more and more as I get older, far more than the promise of a wedding vow.