And the award for worst wife goes to……me

This week can be summed up in one word: trying. If it was a test, I’d have failed it miserably. It was in a nutshell, not all I was hoping for.

Last week hubby went to a new Dermatologist. His previous one had retired (a blessing as you’ll soon understand). His old Dermatologist was happy to just burn off sun spots and talk about golf. The new one explained that sun damage is pre-cancerous and cannot just be zapped here and there as we’ve been led to believe. He explained options and after some thought we chose the one with the quickest recovery time. Hubby and I went back this past week and the Dr smeared a chemo-based cream on hubby’s face before covering most of his face in clingfilm and having him wait three hours for the cream to start working. He then had to go under a UV light for six and half minutes twice (for each side of his face). As my husband explained this felt like sticking your head in an oven – only less pleasant. He has been booked off for a few weeks to recover and currently looks like he has fallen asleep on a beach for two solid weeks. His face is painfully tender and he has a myriad of creams to apply and a wash to use twice a day.

I had taken leave so that I could help out in this very sore stage of his recovery. I pictured a week of tending to my husband with love and patience. Quietly cleaning our home to a pristine condition. A vision of a spotless kitchen while I lovingly cooked a wholesome dinner came to mind. Our home filled with calm and rest while delicately smelling of the tea tree oil infuser I purchased from Woolies a few weeks ago.

The reality has fallen so far off this non-existent dream that it is almost laughable. We planned so carefully down to the massive grocery shop we did on Monday evening after a busy day finishing up at work. As we carted a large portion of two supermarkets home with us and filled our fridge and cupboards I actually felt, dare I say it…..organised.   The little orange A5 notebook which I fill with to-do’s and tasks had one more thing I could tick off that evening. I felt rather grown up. We had everything covered. Leave was approved, grocery shopping sorted and lifts with a colleague organised for the following week when I returned to work. Hubby wouldn’t be able to leave the house for weeks except for Dr’s check ups and cannot go into sunlight for a while.

So you can imagine our surprise when upon arriving in the Dermatologists office (complete with painkillers, books and a snack while we waited) to find we still had to get to the pharmacy and a Clicks somewhere for meds and face products. As hubby was covered in cream and clingfilm I walked to find the nearest Pharmacy. Only I couldn’t find the bloody building. Went back and was assured it was ‘on the corner’. Walked back and couldn’t find signage or an entrance. Kept walking. Walked some more. Ended up in another suburb and found another pharmacy. Walked back. Sweaty and red faced I marched back to my shiny, clingfilm-covered husband with anything but grace and love. Less patience and more irritation and language not fit for a lady. We read for a while, hubby had his snack (we were only people in the waiting room with a lunch bag), had his painkillers and went in for the UV light treatment. It was horrifically painful he said but he did so well, didn’t even complain. I got to go in (wearing goggles over my glasses) and the whole procedure looked like a terrible ordeal. Hubby was so brave and didn’t moan or even ask to be sprayed with the water fan thingy I was holding.

We came home and unfortunately nobody will confuse me with Florence Nightingale. I was so pissed off that I couldn’t find the pharmacist and now had to phone my mother to take me to buy the array of other products only stocked at certain stores that I took my frustration out on the wrong person. On a roll, I even blamed my mother-in-law (not to her face obviously) and felt such frustration that I turned out to be the crappiest wife and nurse to the person I love more than life itself. I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for this.

My mother picked me up the next day and on the fourth shop we visited we found the facial wash and cream prescribed and hubby could start using them that afternoon.

I just feel like the world’s worst wife. The patience I thought I’d have wasn’t there. I’ve been short-tempered, testy, and not very nice at times. I’m disappointed with myself. My hubby is in alot of discomfort and I’m trying to be there but I feel like such a failure. I blamed him for an awful night’s sleep the other day – who does that? Our home does not resemble anything I imagined and I think the bloody tea-tree thing is faulty – I can only get a vague hint of the scent when I’m standing with my nose one cm from the *&^%ing bottle. I go back to work on Monday and the thought fills me with dread.

Not as much as the realisation at what a rubbish wife I’ve been at times this week.


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