I'm going on day five and I'm still not out of the woods. Last night Fred made me chicken noodle soup and rubbed my feet trying to make them stop feeling so tingly. He then alternately got me cool cloths for my forehead and then covered me with blankets when I started shivering ("Will you turn on the fan baby?", then 10 minutes later: "Turn it off! It's freezing!").
I knew my whining and pathetic-ness had to be annoying, so I looked at him and whimpered, "Do you still want to marry me?"
"Of course," he said (but, I mean, he kind of HAD to), "you took care of me when I was sick."
Which was true— however, he never vomited and he certainly didn't whine as much as I do. I don't think anything tests the bonds and boundaries of love like being sick.
Right now my grandfather has been dealing with emphysema, COPD and bouts of pneumonia. He has to be with an oxygen tank 24 hours a day. My grandmother who is used to being a get-up-and-go kind of couple has become his full-time nurse in many ways. I can tell it takes its toll on her, but I also know it's not a chore; it's what she signed up for 50+ years ago.
I look at Fred and wonder what we'll have to battle as a couple. We're both fairly healthy, but that doesn't mean something terrible can't creep up on us in our older age. It's a hard thing to think about, but something you kind of have to think about when you're committing your life to someone; in sickness and health, and all that.
Right now though, we're just trying to get through the flu.