Whenever people hear that my husband is in a wheelchair or that he has had a stroke (which came about well after being put in a wheelchair), they (almost) always seem to comment about how good a person I am to be taking care if him and such.

Let me set the record straight… I’m NO SAINT!! Number one, I get just as upset/irritated/fed-up as the next guy (or gal in my case) and Number two, it’s not as if he (my husband) is a bed-ridden invalid. True, he needs more help in getting things done than the average, able-bodied, person and being of sound mind there are many things he wants to accomplish (of which he needs my help to do so)… But it’s not as if I have to feed him or wipe his ass (though I do have to help with transfers to the toilet and anymore I do a lot of the cooking (something my husband use to do more of before his stroke a few years back.

There are days, when I have been exceptionally needed (and feel like Jenny-Jump-Up), that I feel like screaming. There are even those days that I just want to leave for a whole… to take a short (or even long) vacation… just to get a way for a while. So no, I’m no saint. I don’t take any better care of my husband than any other woman would… Sometimes maybe not even as good.