This Is A Hard Column To Write

This is a hard column to write because I don’t want to come off as a self-absorbed, spoiled princess bitch……
 
My late mother – of blessed memory – always reminded me that I went out of the way to make things difficult for myself. Regrettably, not only did I never listen to her – I never even paused for a nano-second to consider that what she was espousing had even a tiny kernel of truth.
 
At age 74, I am beginning to heartily reconsider my mother’s point. 
 
When I found out my husband needed additional back surgery, I automatically slid into my advocacy role. His needs are my primary concern – which is as it should be, right?
 
When he’s released from the hospital a week after surgery, I realize that I will be on my own with him for at least ten days in a hotel room in Manhattan before returning home to Florida. 
 
Usually, I would go into martyr mode:
     No one can take care of him but me. 
     All pleasure-seeking activities must come to a standstill until life resumes its pre-surgery normalcy.
     I can’t enjoy Manhattan’s treasures while he recuperates.
 
First, I let myself day dream – consciously admitting that there are some enjoyable things I’d like to be doing in the Big Apple while he is recuperating. I push aside the well of guilt surging over me from even thinking of such indulgences and diversions.
 
I’m in New York City. Bloomingdales is down the street. The Metropolitan of Art just blocks away. Nail salons dot every block. Our hotel connects to a spiffy day spa. Outdoor cafes and juice bars beckon amidst the beautiful, balmy September weather. 
 
Do I dare shop?
Schedule a mani and pedi?

 

 
Read a novel as I sip a glass of red wine at an outdoor café?
Enjoy “A Lexicon of Fashion” at the Met – ensembles by a diverse range of designers, beginning in 1940 to present day?
 
I can readily justify getting a home health aide to come by and stay with my husband so I can shop for groceries, pick up his prescriptions, and buy him his blood pressure and oxygen machines.
 
Do I dare get a home health aide to come by and stay with my husband so I can have lunch with one of my sons who works in the City? So I can watch one of my grandsons play a Sunday morning basketball game in New Jersey? So I can just casually hang with my kids and their families each weekend? And hug my grandkids on an ongoing basis?
 

 

I book the home health care aid for additional hours.

It’s hard to admit to myself that in order to Keep Preserving My Bloom seeking out pleasurable activities – even in times of turmoil – are what does the trick.
 
My decision to spend precious time with my family plus indulging in pleasurable past times during my husband’s post-op recovery has made me a much happier, more caring and more present wife – catering to his needs with a smile on my face and a genuinely patient demeanor.  

And dismantling the martyr harness has also made me a less demanding mother during this stressful interlude – just ask my five sons.
 
I wish my mom were around so I could tell her she was right. Because she was.
 
Keep Preserving It, Baby – it works!
 
Iris Ruth Pastor