By LeAnn Thieman

Often, our loved ones cannot verbalize all the gratitude and love they feel for the loving care they receive.

Sometimes they cannot speak to say it, and other times they simply cannot find the words to express it. This lovely story puts into words what most care recipients feel.

LeAnn Thieman, coauthor Chicken Soup for the Caregiver’s Soul.

Dear Precious Husband

God gave me the greatest and unique treasure when I married you.  Little did we know what would lay ahead for us those twenty-one years ago when we said, "…for better, or worse, in sickness and in health."  Multiple sclerosis has become an all-too familiar term in our lives.  What began as simple fatigue and a slight limp became over the years a wheelchair, long visits to the doctor and surgeries to help spasticity and bladder problems.  Thank you for traveling this unpredictable road with me and loving me despite the tremendous costs. Our children and our friends look at you and see a living, breathing, unselfish, giving, child of God. Many times, I have cried when I hear the song "You are the Wind Beneath My Wings" because it describes what you are to me.  I have been blessed in so many ways and the greatest blessing is you.

“Caregiver" is a word that was foreign to me when I was young.  Growing up and being independent was my goal. I flourished in school and in athletics.  I was captain of my high school tennis team, third in my class, and had hopes of a career in physical therapy.  Then, in college, I met you in Greek class, of all places. We began dating and learning about each other and before long we made our vows in a lovely garden wedding with birds singing as the sun set by the lake.  We shared days of playing golf together, tennis, even basketball at night with car lights illuminating the court. When our first child was born, we loved being parents.

When I awoke with double vision just months after our wedding, I called my brother-in-law who is an internist.  He suggested a neurologist and I awkwardly began dialing. We were young, naive newlyweds, hearing the words "demyelinating disease" for the first time.  It wasn't until my brother-in-law, who had talked to the doctor, told us that it was probably multiple sclerosis, did I really understand.  I was stunned, not believing what I heard.  I had only known one guy with MS who lived in a nursing home, hardly able to speak, not able to walk, with little hope to go on.  So my first reaction was to move back home with my mom, send you back home to yours, and forget we ever got married.  Solidly grounded in God's word and in your commitment to our marriage, you said we would pray, forge ahead, and make it. 

Now that I’ve had MS for twenty-one years, my admiration for you has grown more than words can express.  My daily needs are now your daily activities: stretching my legs, putting on my socks and clothes, lifting me into my electric wheelchair, getting my meds, serving my breakfast, and taking the kids to school. You do these without complaint, without hesitation, and with consistent dedication. At night, the routine begins again, only backwards. Then after putting on my nighttime ankle brace, you get me into bed. During the night, you awaken to my whisper and tend to my needs.

By Holly Baker

*Excerpt taken from “Chicken Soup for the Caregiver’s Soul. Reprinted with permission.