Having received a brief litany of my current state of fibromyalgia (frustratingly reluctant to improve), my husband grew quiet and then began, “It’s so weird. It seemed like when you had a broken leg…” his voice fading.
“What? When I had a broken leg, what?”
“I don’t know how to describe it. When it was broken, it was almost like you had a different … aura. It’s so weird.”
After reminding him that it’s not ‘weird’ for me to have ups and downs with fibromyalgia, I explained, “Because you were doing everything, I was totally dependent on you, and I knew how hard the entire circumstance was for you, I chose to be pleasant and patient. Doing my part.”
The look that passed through his face made me feel like I could see him thinking, remembering. “You’d go around on your scooter with a smile, so cute.”
“You didn’t see me cursing you when I was alone and you left the barstool in my path, again. And I can’t keep that up indefinitely. Now that I’m back on my feet and much more independent, my aura is back to normal.”