Chronic Illness, Mental Load, And Love

Our Division of Labor Was Already Out Of Whack.

Then My Husband Got Sick.

I stumbled down the stairs after an elaborate bedtime routine. My husband Z was sitting on the couch. The house was a mess. Normally he would be cleaning up, but he was instead completely still.

I stared at him, annoyance not concealed. "What's up?" I asked.

"I don't feel right," he said.

Dread and exhaustion rushed through my system. Our kids and I had just recovered from norovirus, shortly after which I developed pneumonia. It was spring break, so no childcare, just days and days of trading parenting and work hours back and forth like a hot potato.

"What do you mean?" I asked, slight hostility not concealed. He could barely look at me.

"I just feel really bad. My chest hurts. I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, it's been a tough week. Are you sure you're not just stressed and anxious?" I wondered. It would track. I, too, was stressed and anxious.

"Maybe" he said, and heaved himself up. I gave him a hug, then we cleaned up together and crashed.

But the next day, he still wasn't okay. He was fatigued and shaky. He had chest pains and intense brain fog. Several urgent care and ER visits later, we still didn't have any answers. We were both terrified and exhausted.

Today, I'm writing about the tenderest time in my marriage. It's about sickness and health, mental load, and hurting each other and healing together.