If I made my husband sound negative, that is because at times his reflections were of negativity. Not always negativity, but what I perceive as negative. When we were younger he was negative more often than people noticed. He would surround himself with people, friends, places, material items, etc., to try to be happy. We threw big parties, that I did not want. This was to make him happy. I would have preferred not having the parties as they were too much work. I also am not a good hostess, though no one seemed to notice. The parties would make him happy for a short time, take away the negative. He was a good man, who worked hard. He did not always make the best decisions, but I think most of us can say that. He did not have the happy childhood I did. He had times where there was happiness, but for the most part he did not grow up with happiness around. This might be why he had the negativity. I am trying to be honest in with my feelings and how I deal with them, so for me to put a label of negativity on him when I do not want it on myself, I thought I should explain that it was just my perspective. I think he would agree with me though.
Through the years he had a little of being positive and negative in him. When he came ill he had every right to feel negative. It was a terrible illness that encompassed his entire body and mind. The doctors were always trying to stay one step ahead. He had a long road ahead if he were going to live and recover. The operations or as the doctors called them “procedures” he had to have, needed a positive attitude to come out alive. While his attitude through these were positive, it was after each one that he would become negative. Not wondering why me? It was more, why bother, I will probably die anyway. He would stop eating, refuse to sit, types of things that to me, are negative. I slept many nights in a chair that reclined into a bed in his hospital room. I was afraid he would die, he was afraid he would die, we wanted to be together. The nights I drove home so I could sleep for one night in my own bed, I would return the next morning to a doctor waiting to see me. Most times, I was told if my husband did not start eating, drinking fluids, sit, start physical therapy, etc. he was going to die. The death would be sooner rather than later, as he had grown so weak. I would go into his room and tell him I did not come that far to have him die because he did not want to eat, etc. I would try to force him to eat, drink, sit, all things we take for granted. He would eat a little, drink a little and sometimes sit. It was hard on him, having once been so strong to suddenly have to face the ordeal he was going through. Also to have to depend on myself and others must have been hard, he was used to being the one who gave orders, not the one having to take the orders.
I mentioned his family did not visit nor offer to, that was fine with both of us, we wanted to be together, alone. If I made it sound as though they did not care, that was not the intent. I will not go through everything, some things are not for me to tell, I will just try to put some insight into what I was dealing with as my husband was so ill. They could be extremely kind, the first time they heard I was sleeping at the hospital or of my driving back and forth, they offered to pay for me to stay in a hotel that was close to the hospital that had a shuttle service. I did not accept their offer. Throughout his illness there were many signs of kindness. But there was also stress put on me from them. I am able to listen to the doctor, get the information I need without writing it down and remember. I remember the things that are of importance to my husband and myself. There was a phone call that I think everyone on the hospital floor probably heard. I was being yelled at by his family because I did not take notes, as well as not asking certain questions that to me were of no significance. A doctor heard the conversation, both parts as he walked into the room. He could hear them because they were yelling. He could see my distress. My husband was asleep, drugged up, he did not hear the conversation. He did hear the doctor tell me to give whomever I was talking to his phone number to call him and hang up on them. This was a doctor that takes no phone calls from anyone. He had to call the switchboard to tell them to put the call through. He left the room to take the call. I guess whatever he said to them shed a little light on how serious things were and how it was a wonder I was able to deal with it all. I say this, as after he talked with them, they called to say I was doing a good job. I do not expect them to read this as they do not know of it, nor would they bother, so I am not trying to point out their better points for their benefit, nor am I pointing out the negative for my benefit. I am trying to be honest with myself.
My family was a different matter, they would constantly ask to visit. Neither of our families live close so it would have meant my family staying with me. It would have been inconvenient. I was using every bit of energy I had to do what I was doing, I had none left for others. I would not allow my family to visit. While I think they understand now why I would not allow their visits, at the time they did not. I think they were angry with me. There were phone calls between my family that ended badly. In one I was even called cruel, which I was not, but I was not going to bother to defend what they perceived as cruel, when I had more important things to do. I could yell at my family if I felt like it. I know that no matter what, in the end, we are still family and will always forgive each other. It is the type of family we are. We are all pretty positive, we had great examples growing up. I will point out that my family is unaware of my writings, though they would want to read them, I would prefer they did not. This is me baring my inner self and how I am trying to regain my life. I think that they are under the impression I have my life back. I would like it to stay that way.
While I mentioned some of what my husband had gone through and how he reacted, I do not think I really gave him enough credit for the positivity he did show. To be honest some of it probably was not there, but with my constant nagging, he probably did what I said to shut me up. I took on all of his worries about his health. He told me he wanted to know nothing until he needed to. There were times he wanted to know a few things, but for the most part he knew very little. I have said I am strong and controlling, so these things he did not want to be involved with, I did. He began to become positive again once the weight of having to deal with his own health was in my hands. We trusted each other. He knew I would do what was best. Would he have found the positive attitude without me? I do not know. I only know what I felt and what his eyes reflected to me.
I am not negative. I may say negative things, but it does not make me negative. I do not want to be perceived as negative. It hurts me to think that I am thought of as negative, though I would never say it or show it. I say I do not care what others think of me. Yet sometimes, with some things I am beginning to. I think this is why the label of negativity hurts so much. I did so much to keep my husband alive and positive, all the while staying positive myself. Some that know what I went through tell me that another woman would have left him or put him in a home where others would care for him. I am not stupid, I know that. That is not me. I loved my husband. I refused to think that his death was a certainty, positive he would recover. Though in the end he lost his battle, he was positive through it. So I will remain positive, it is the only thing I know. When I am ready to look in the mirror I want my reflection to be one of positivity.