Oh dear Jesus I feel horrible for my wife. We’ve been here at the hospital for just about 24 hours now, staring at the same beige walls and sentenced to this continual limbo of sitting, waiting, blinking and essentially just being frustrated. I shouldn’t even say “we” because while it may be mind-numbingly boring for me, boring < painful any which way you slice it. And that’s what kills me.

This is the first real time in our relationship that I’ve had to stand by and watch my wife struggle in pain, alone, me unable to “fix it” like the prototypical male is programmed to do. Sure we’ve had our illnesses and minor injuries before this, but there are no comparisons to be made here. Being sidelined in this makes me feel more alone than I had expected, more isolated from her than I could have ever prepared myself to face. While she languishes in pain and discomfiture over essentially making no progress, I sit. Holding her hand or helping her to the bathroom does little to bridge the gap into the world she’s in right now.

So we wait, and she finds new limits of resolve within herself. And I discover a heightened appreciation for partners that watch their loved ones battle persistent diseases.

And I find an even more profound level of love for my wife.