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3. dire straits
- Temple University Press
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dire straits three T he period from Jeff's diagnosis in 1977 to mid-1988, when Jeff could no longer transfer from and to the wheelchair, might be described as one of stress. But during the nearly six years from then until he went into the nursing home, we were in full-blown dire straits. Well spouses don't suffer ordinary stress; we do not need stress-management workshops. Calling dire straits stress undermines well spouses and makes us feel alienated and confused about where we stand. Jeff and I would watch movies about young love, or old love. When these movies were interrupted by toilet, I'd remark, "No love could survive this." He'd nod and look worried. Among famous couples, in movies and in life, she nurses him, or he her, for months or for years, to either a happy or sad ending. But an ending. In movies the verb nurse doesn't mean weight lifting many times a day. It doesn't mean being imprisoned. And it doesn't mean forever and ever, with everyone expecting you to. In particular, with nurses and physical therapists and other paid professionals coming into your home and showing you how and saying uh-huh and looking askance when 32 Copyrighted Material dire straits 33 you allude to what you've been doing-be it nights, lifting, and toilet or teaching calculus or writing poetry. In one movie a nine-year-old boy cares for his paralyzed grandfather. We see the kid spooning warm soup into the old man's mouth, but we don't see toilet or lifting, because a nine year old can't lift a grandfather onto the toilet, or even onto the bedpan. Most people can't singlehandedly lift a grandfather onto a toilet or bedpan. Roberta, my Brooklyn publisher and friend, sent me the book Hanging On, about the last year in the life of a stroke patient. "Maybe this will help," Roberta wrote. "Thanks," I wrote back, "but 'hanging on' for seven years is a bit different from 'hanging on' for just one year. It's different when it's a living man you're taking care of, rather than a dying one." A story going around the well-spouse grapevine tells of a "well husband" who "hung on" for many years or decades. His wife eventually died and he eventually remarried. However , he warned his new wife that if she became chronically ill he would not stay with her; "1 couldn't do it again," he said. Years later she did become chronically ill, and he did leave her. The way I see it, stress is something we can do again. In fact, stress is what people usually do again and again, what we often wisely and even happily accept as something that naturally goes with the territory whenever life gets interesting-new job, new marriage, new baby, and so on. Dire straits, however, are not something a wise person chooses to repeat. Around 1987, our friends Sarah and Eddie bought a house. At the last minute the deal fell through; they had already Copyrighted Material [44.197.251.102] Project MUSE (2024-03-19 08:59 GMT) dirty details 34 given up their apartment, so they and their two year old moved in with a friend. Not only did the friend show no interest whatever in the baby, he also left all sorts of dangerous-for-babies junk around the place. Sarah cooked for all of them; suppertimes were sorry scenes. Eddie, Sarah, and the baby slept on a mattress surrounded by sharp metal paraphernalia. Then they all got the flu; it lasted for months. Now that it's stress I'm going through and not dire straits, their situation sounds horrendous. At the time it did not; I would have traded my nights for theirs, sleeping surrounded by sharp metal. They slept, were allowed to sleep. The point is, their ordeal ended. They found another house, and they moved in. "Things are looking up," Sarah told me. How I longed for things to look up for Jeff and me, for it to be possible for things to look up-in months, years, even a decade. This minute, writing these words and knowing I won't be interrupted by "Mar!"-knowing I might be up late but once I do go to bed, I'll be allowed to sleep jarless and respiratorless until at least 9:00-I'm thinking, with supreme...