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ARTICLE: Distance from spouse changes with time By Donald M. Murray, Globe Correspondent, 1/13/2004 It was one of those casual conversations that appeared to be just one insignificant thread in the weaving of a new relationship. One of us remarked about the importance of distance in a close friendship or marriage. It was early in our evolving friendship and neither of us had any idea we would be married in 11 months. Yet in talking about a friend's marriage, Minnie Mae said she would continue to work if she ever got married. It was 1951 and that was an issue. Most husbands expected their wives to stay home, as my father had demanded of my mother. I didn't give the issue much thought. If a married woman wanted to keep working, fine. Husbands should have their own lives and so should wives. I even remember us commenting -- about others, of course -- that distance was important for intimacy and true togetherness. To no one's surprise but our own we got married and developed our independence as jobs changed, children arrived, and the distance essential to a good marriage evolved naturally. I have given this a great deal of thought 53 years later as age and illness change what had seemed, to me, an unchangeable weave of independence and dependence. We are not as independent now as each of us imagined we were. Parkinson's disease has made Minnie Mae dependent on me, and her dependence has eliminated my independence as well as hers. Caring for her is not a duty, an obligation, or a responsibility, but something closer that is hard to name. We do what we can for each other, always have, always will. The doing, as each caregiver and care receiver knows, changes the long familiar distances on which our marriage grew. The kitchen, for example, was Minnie Mae's territory, although I had cooked before our marriage. Now making supper takes both of us, checking on each other. Soon, I know I will be the cook. New challenges, new duties, new opportunities. I first became aware of how much deeper it is than simply who is in the kitchen when Minnie Mae refused, resisted, or delayed taking her pills. Suddenly, I was parent and nurse as well as lover and companion. She had to take her increasing number of medications every 2 1/2 hours during the day. And each time, she delayed or complained or stated she was not going to take any more pills. I heard my voice change. It was not the voice of a loving husband, but that of the military policeman I once had been. The distance between us changed. No understanding, little sympathy -- I took more pills than Minnie Mae -- no debate, no excuses. Now take your pills. Was I giving a command to my wife, something I had never dared do in the 50 years before? I heard the voice I used in speaking to my children and many a drunken paratrooper. I love Minnie Mae deeply and mourn for her Parkinson's, but I am always ready, like the zoom lens of a camera, to adjust the distance, stand back, command, not console. SOURCE: Boston Globe, MA http://tinyurl.com/2khej * * * ---------------------------------------------------------------------- To sign-off Parkinsn send a message to: mailto:[log in to unmask] In the body of the message put: signoff parkinsn