So my wife and I got into an argument last night.
In the end, it's not about the argument, but rather what precipitated it.
But for those of you who shop at Walmart and who watch WWE, I'll share with you the highlights.
It goes back when I was in Kindergarten... the first time. I used to get hurt all the time. And when I got hurt, the other kids would laugh. Ever get hurt and have someone laugh at you? It makes you mad, right? If I knew the glory of Samuel L. Jackson cursing when I was five, I would have slaughtered them with my verbiage. But I was four. And I was in pain. So I reacted angrily... sometimes violently.
Fast forward to last night. We bought a new house with a double-thick pad and a high-end, thick carpet. It was glorious until about three weeks ago. Two words -- static electricity. Not your everyday static electricity, but three inch sparks shooting from every surface to my skin. I can't even walk through a doorway on the second floor without all the hairs on my arms standing at attention. No I've been shocked before, but that's just an ooh. These are all OWs or even SHITS! Walking from my office to Yvonne's office, which can be only a matter of thirty feet, I commonly get shocked three times... and not even touching anything.
So late last night, after the zombies were heading towards the wall and the Game of Thrones season two ended, Yvonne wanted to know why I was crabby.
And I was crabby.
I attributed it to the shocks.
She tried to act like it was a normal thing.
I differed substantially. Even when she tried to say it shocked her the same way. The fact is it didn't. But my wife is feeling considerable pain. And that was the real reason I was crabby. You see, my wife is hurting and there's nothing I can do about it. She's actually in severe pain. Any of you who saw her at Comicon can vouch for how badly she was hobbling around. My wife, you see, has no more cartilage in her right hip. She's going to have to get it replaced. Until then, her hip and knee is causing her severe pain, to the point that she sits on the couch and gasps.
And here I am being crabby about it.
I know. The thing is I can't help her. I can't fix it. I can't toss her over my shoulder and carry her from place to place, even though I've tried.
What irony! I want to help her because she'd in pain, but end up giving her emotional pain.
I really need to work on being patient and understanding.
This really never was about getting shocked, although I'd love to fix that. It's about Yvonne and mitigating her pain and being there for her and understanding her pain until she has surgery... and then it'll be another hill to climb.
I need to step up my game. If I can write about understanding characters, I need to be able to play one.
I reacted like I had when I was in kindergarten. That was forty-two years ago. You'd think I could have learned something in the intervening years.
This isn't about me. It's about my wife and she needs me.