Columnists
Chief cook and the bottle washer
As some of you may know, LOML had lifesaving heart surgery almost 10 years ago. It was an overwhelming event in our lives. We thought our lives were damn near perfect. And then? Well, and then we went from having it all to almost losing it all. It is from this perspective I approach this week’s column.
In the weeks and months following his bypass surgery, I was awash with guilt and emotion. I had, obviously, done something wrong. What kind of wife was I? I hadn’t done my job.
At the time, I was the chief cook and LOML was the bottle washer. The surgeon and cardiologist said it could be a genetic problem and a lifestyle change was necessary. Why hadn’t I seen this coming?
I decided it was my responsibility to ensure the future good health of LOML. In an instant, I took the whole deal upon myself. While he was still in KGH, I became a wife on a mission. I cleared every bit of junk and processed food from the shelves of our pantry and our refrigerator.
Upon his homecoming, I appointed myself the keeper of his and our future health. I lived and breathed good nutrition, active lifestyle and self-control. I watched him like a hawk. I got all preachy, to anyone who would listen, about what I cooked and what I baked. Everything had to be fresh, lowfat, low-sugar and high fibre. Every meal was a balanced delight. I picked up his prescriptions and counted out the pills. I drove him to, and sometimes attended, his cardiac rehab sessions in Kingston. I was possessed. I took charge. And then?
Well, then I realized I had labelled LOML. He had become a project. He was no longer the love of my life, he was a heart surgery survivor who just happened to live with me. His lifestyle changes had become my full-time research project and job. At the time of the surgery we were almost emptynesters, but I filled the spot vacated by the older children with LOML.
I needed to step back and let LOML be the LOML again. He was better at math than I, and I was fairly certain he could count out his own medications. He could decide if he wanted to go for a walk or a run or take the bike for a spin. He could decide, without my help, what he wanted for breakfast, lunch or dinner when we were in a restaurant. He could decide if one cup of coffee was enough and if he wanted to have a piece of pie with whipped cream on top. He could make decisions about his lifestyle without my constant interventions and nagging. And then?
Well, and then I stopped making his “problems” my problems. I let go. I was living in a constant state of stress about doing the right thing. I know, I know. Lots of you might think my decision to “let go” was a bit cold-hearted (pun intended). I don’t believe it was. What I do believe is, we all have to take responsibility for ourselves and our life choices. I hadn’t let that happen for LOML. I had become the person I would run from.
October is the 10th anniversary of his surgery. I’m still the chief cook, and in that respect I maintain a bit of control over that part of our healthier lives. But I do take food suggestions from the bottlewasher, once in a while. A person needs to let a plate of fries happen, right?
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