Friday, 19 October 2012

The death of romance

Every relationship hits a point when you're so comfortable with each other, you suddenly realise the romance is dead. Occasionally, there are extenuating circumstances that hasten this event.
Our relationship has never been particularly romantic. OD admits to not being the best at choosing clothes or jewellery. Both my birthday presents have been expensive electronics-I just have to accept that the man doesn't do sparkly things.

And then I had my little skiing escapade and ended up like this.
When OD first had to help me into the shower, I remember wailing.."Oh no, the romance is dead.."
Then there was my six weeks of non-weight bearing and having to slide up and down the stairs on my arse. Truly, I was no glamourpuss.

I visited him on Day 1 at the hospital after his operation with his sister, R. Who is not medical, and absolutely hates hospitals. So being in the colorectal cancer ward, with that faint whiff of poo was REALLY not good for her. She was rather aghast when after the first few pleasantries the conversation turned to talk of farts and bowels.

Me: So did you manage the almighty fart then?
OD: No, but I did manage a small, perfectly formed one...

This morning he very proudly announced that he had a couple of farts in bed. Nice! It seems that things on the colon and anastamosis front are working as they should. But I'll tell you now, there will be celebration when the first poo emerges!

Maybe that's what REAL romance is about?!

PS: Told you it was going to get graphic.

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