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To: Miss Marple
When I get grumpy, I remember that when I was in labor and about to eliver, and it was shift change and their were no doctors or nurses around, he put me on the gurney and wheeled me to the delivery room, shouting for someone to come help me.

And when I get grumpy I remember that when I had my fusion and could not lift my arms without excrutiating pain, and I had not been allowed solid food for 2 days to allow my throad to heal without irritation THEY brought a tray into my room with plain cherry jello and chocolate pudding. I couldn't get the jello to stay on my spoon because my arm shook so bad, consequently the jello spilled all over my bedding, and down the front of my hospital gown, some even got inside that turtle shell thing they had around my neck.

When he arrived and found me is such a mess, he first went to the cafeteria and purchased a whole bunch more pudding and jello, then patiently fed it to me. All of this without anyone ever checking in on me.

When he'd finished feeding me he went to the nurses station and raised so much Hell that 4 nurses came to clean me up and change my bedding.

The next morning he was there at 5:00 am to feed me (and to be sure he didn't miss the Dr.). When the Dr came in he started raising hell again, because I wasn't getting the care I should have had.

This is the only time in my life he has ever felt the need to protect me. I guess I was pretty defenseless at that time. My kids still LAUGH about all this, because they can't believe I wasn't the one raising caine.

237 posted on 09/16/2005 7:07:40 PM PDT by Iowa Granny (Inside me lives a skinny woman crying to get out. But I can usually shut her up with cookies.)
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To: Iowa Granny
Long ago, I read a Regency romance by Georgette Heyer. The heroine had to choose between a handsome, arrogant suitor and a "best friend" type of guy. The heroine chose the latter, because he was the type of guy who would get one a sedan chair in a rainstorm.

This may seem a silly thing to remember, but it struck me as true. My husband isn't always the romantic ideal, but in a crunch I can count on him. The "romantic" types are not dependable.

242 posted on 09/16/2005 7:23:51 PM PDT by Miss Marple (Lord, please look after Mozart Lover's son and keep him strong.)
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