Every morning, after my husband wakes up, we take some time to build up his SATs and work the stiffness out of his body. After all, his body is primarily in one position for most of the time and it is good to work the kinks out. Off goes the covers and the morning air hits his body, then we begin to do our version of "yoga".
Our "yoga" consists of myself, bending and lifting his legs into all sorts of positions. Bringing them up close to his chest and turning his hips from side to side. To this, he moans while joints pop and creak. Ahhhh, it does feel good, though. At least that is how I imagine it, living vicariously through him.
Our "yoga" consists of myself, bending and lifting his legs into all sorts of positions. Bringing them up close to his chest and turning his hips from side to side. To this, he moans while joints pop and creak. Ahhhh, it does feel good, though. At least that is how I imagine it, living vicariously through him.
"This is what happens when you get old." He says this morning.
"But, Honey, you're not old!" I respond.
To this he replies, "I know! That is what I've been saying. Someone sure got this wrong."
He is right, you know.
There is never the "right" person that this should happen to.
There is never the "right" person that this should happen to.
Pulmonary Fibrosis affects many people of all ages and gender.
I don't like it.
I don't like any of this one bit.
Just discovered your blog -- I was diagnosed 9/26/11, almost exactly a year after your husband. Reading about his decline in just 15 months is sobering reminder that pulmonary fibrosis is a cruel and fickle disease. Thank you for sharing your story. Every word is a testament to your love for each other, and feels like a warm hug to those of us who are also on this journey.
ReplyDeleteI wish you peace and hope, everyday.
Lori