In the last seven days, I have gone to work on one day and worked a total of a bit over four hours. I'm so sick that I'll need to have a doctor's note to prove that it's OK for me to return to the office. Ted, too, has been sick this whole time. Not quite as dramatically so, but with a couple miserable days and still -- right now in his sleep -- coughing.
In that same seven days, Ted has gone to work on seven days and worked a total of around 93 hours. And tomorrow, he does his usual open-to-close shift. That's 15 hours in one day. He'll finish around 9:00pm, come home, do a quick nighttime routine, go to bed, and be up again at 3:00am to start Monday with a weekday-standard 12-14 hour day.
Despite his own illness and ridiculous work schedule, he came home today with a box of tea for me. He thought it might help me sleep (something that's been a problem this week) without adding to the pile of medications. He brings me hot compresses, bottles of water, new boxes of tissues (Puffs with lotion, which he went out and got mid-week), hot cups of water with honey that's impossible to squeeze out of a stupid bear bottle, and anything else I need while I sit swaddled in pajamas, afghans, cats, and the couch. Anytime he moves from one place to another, he asks if he can do anything for me.
Ever wonder why the line "in sickness and in health" exists in the marriage vows? I am so lucky.