Being the patient

There are many tests throughout a relationship, especially when it is somewhat in its infancy...or at least before you're officially cohabitating full time. One of the tried and true tests is when one of you truly has to take care of the other.

The bf and I successfully survived this trial this past weekend. Of course, it probably went so splendidly since he was the one taking care of me following outpatient surgery on Friday. He made sure my every need was taken care of and looked after...and the best part, all without irritating me.

I'll be the first to admit I'm didn't think I would be the best patient. When I'm not feeling well, I have one of two reactions: (1) I either want to be completely babied and my every whim indulged or (2) I just want to be left the heck alone. And the best part of the challenge...this can vary from minute to minute.

The bf was able to adapt to my changing multiple personalities and widely varying levels of pain and discomfort. God bless him.

The only time I think he took things a bit close to the edge was when I walked into the kitchen on Sunday morning, and he had set out all of my medications on the counter with a glass of water. I felt a little like I was either five or 95.

But all kidding aside, he took very good care of me, and it just makes me love him more. I just hope when the time comes for me reciprocate that I'm up to the challenge.