Months ago I told you in my blog that I was not the only caregiver in this house. Those of you who know me may have seen my dismal post of a few days ago. Little things, small blessings, random acts of kindness when least expected warm the cockles of the heart.
Since all the insanity began with my husband in April, I’ve rarely left his side. Yes, I have to get groceries, medicines and other necessities of life. It’s there and back. Afraid he’ll need something while I’m gone; I scurry home as fast as I can.
Today we got up ridiculously early and drove up to see the progress of the house. On the way back my husband wanted to go to IHOP for breakfast. I was thrilled to take him (going out in public in the wheelchair is not his favorite thing). We had a lovely morning.
When we returned to our hovel at the motel, my hubby said “Go do something for yourself. Go to that nail place we saw in the plaza.” I hemmed and hawed, don’t need to, I’m fine. “You need to do something to cheer yourself up a bit; I know how hard it is with your mother. Go relax.” Should I? Could I? At his insistence, I secured him, his cell phone and his dog in a nice sunny area. “Will you be alright? I have my phone; I’ll only be five minutes away.” “Go, don’t worry, enjoy.”
I did it, I finally did it. Selfishly, something for me. I had a manicure and the first pedicure of my life! (Never liked the idea of someone fiddling with my feet.) I came home in disposable, orange thongs and pink toes. I felt like a new woman. My husband was not only fine, he had taken himself and the dog back to the room on his own. As I told him of my “adventures” at the salon, he grinned. “Let me see your toes, let me see your manicure” (who was this stranger?). It gave him so much pleasure to be able to give this one hour of relaxation to me.
If it makes him that happy, I may do it again someday!