Life in the Grouchy Lane

Remember this.
We have a wood stove in the basement. Although Gerry and I have split the blocks with the wood splitter, sometimes I need smaller pieces. Gerry HATES it when I do this because he is scared that I will cut myself with the axe and I hear him sighing upstairs and yelling "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

I don't want everyone to think that this whole experience that we are going through is all lovey-dovey, full of mushy, reflective nostalgia. Today was one of those days that Gerry really irked me.
I am not sure if it is the drugs, (Dilaudid injection every two hours) the infection in his bladder and blood, the cancer or combinations of the aforesaid mentioned but he really TRIED my nerves today.
If I pulled the curtain too far, there was a sigh and a gesture.
If I couldn't make out what he said, there was the comment, "You should have your hearing checked.".
If I moved the chair and it scraped across the floor, there was "THE LOOK".
I held my tongue. I didn't speak. I didn't give him "The stare". I didn't give him the "Silent treatment". I wanted to. BIG TIME.
I just kept thinking, "Here I am, off work, devoting my time to you, making you a priority, advocating for you, becoming more educated on your condition so I can make informed decisions and ask intelligent questions and you are giving me GRIEF?"????" Meanwhile, when visitors called, he was the perfect gentleman, laughing, joking, engaging in conversation that would befit Barak Obama and I would think, "What's up with this?" And to top it off, when I left tonight, he snidely remarked, "I suppose you are going to have a glass of wine."
"I said, "Yeah, probably." And guess what Gerry, I AM HAVING A GLASS OF WINE.
AND, I SPLIT WOOD IN THE BASEMENT TOO.....TWO BIG PIECES OF BIRCH AND I DIDN'T CUT MYSELF!
Last night I cried all the way home because I felt so bad for him
Tonight I cried all the way home because I felt bad for ME.