Intimacy is now feeding my husband his meals. It's a type of dance we do on a daily basis. It's patience when we're trying to communicate through foggy anesthesia and vivid drug-induced dreams and startling consciousness. He is 80% himself and for that I thank God and Jesus and Allah and Vishnu. He had many injuries, most of which will require skin grafting in the coming weeks (yes, his skin since the risk of rejection is high with these types of injuries). Blood infections, 106.7 degree fevers, frustration, and everything you can think of goes on here.
But then he says "Hey, sweetheart," every time I enter the room. Then we have a sweet conversation after a teeth- brushing. He'll crack a bad joke and show me his dimples. We are still us, still sweet and kind to one another, still newlyweds, still in love. He hasn't wavered once and that gives me strength. Then he tells me he couldn't do this without me.
Now how am I not an incredibly lucky/fortunate/blessed girl? I love him and he loves me. Always.
