Us – the fantasy vs the reality

In this entry, I’m going to attempt to explain why I can be such a bastard to my wife, not to mention other people.  It’s all about fantasy vs. reality.

A little background: I was single for the first 28 years of my life.  Period.  I never had a boyfriend once.  That was lonely as hell, but it gave me PLENTY of time to fantasize about a life with "my mate".  As any married person should know, fantasy and reality rarely get a chance to meet.

First of all, I always thought I’d partner up with a man.  As constant reader knows, that didn’t wind up happening.  I’m over THAT now. 

It always seemed to me that when I met "the right one", we’d blend together so well that we would never have serious arguments or fights.  That’s just plain unrealistic, as 35 years of living have taught me.

What I don’t get is why we were denied some of the more commonplace things.  For instance, I always thought it would be sweet and a little romantic to take walks together often.  I have aunts and uncles who do that.  Can we do that?  No!  Why not?  My wife can’t WALK!!!!!

She could walk when she got here, albeit not that well.  Not being able to walk presents more of a challenge than most people seem to understand, and they NEVER seem to be willing to sympathize about it.  It’s as if they think she CHOSE to be wheelchair bound.  Who would do that?!!!!

Going to a grocery store….I either have to go by myself, which presents another problem…I have a pretty severe social phobia…or we go through the following steps:

a) figure out how to get my wife off the front porch…no ramp yet

b) fold up the wheelchair and simultaneously position her walker where it will allow her to hobble to the car

c) after I help her get the car door open and she gets in, then

d) put the collapsed wheelchair into the back of the car

I’m all out of breath, by this point.  Once we arrive at the store:

a) walk into the store, get a motorized cart thing (which prompts ugly looks from strangers), drive it out to the car, get Laurie on the cart

b) IF I go in, too, then I have to hold on to part of the cart (for my social phobia…it keeps me more grounded, somehow), and walk quickly to keep up with the pace of the cart.

c) When we’re done….I have to unload the groceries out of the cart into the car, then drive the cart back inside, come out to the car, collapse and die…ok, I don’t collapse and die, but being in a crowd causes panic attack after panic attack, which tires me out AND puts me in a bad mood.

Get home and repeat these steps backwards, pretty much.

I don’t know if it comes across in writing as being as difficult as it is in real life.

I will edit this entry at a later time.  We need to go outside for a smoke break.  Still in Austin.  Nanny’s still here, for now.  I guess she might just hold on til she’s 100, though she’d be just a pair of eyelashes by that point. 

On a less pleasant topic….

I’ve described the way Nanny currently looks as being "like someone threw a bucket of skin over bones".  That’s pretty accurate.  I may take and post a picture, but I don’t know….seems like that would only be cruel.