It's the Little Things

As I sit here waiting for my ibuprofen to take affect, I've been remembering one of those sweet things Bill used to do for me.  I spent about six hours working in the yard today blowing and raking leaves.

Bill and I enjoyed working in our yard together.  We always seemed to have some project we were working on.  Well, I would come up with the ideas and then help Bill make them happen. This was Pre lung transplant. Post lung transplant things had to change.  Bill was required to wear a mask and gloves to be able to work in the yard to prevent infection.  Pre transplant Bill, like many other people with CF (or other lung disease) suffered from claustrophobia.  This was due to his long term shortness of breath.  Without oxygen blowing behind the mask, he was not able to tolerate wearing a mask pre transplant.   Prior to his decline in lung function he had no evidence of claustrophobia.  Even though he was no longer short of breath post transplant the claustrophobia remained.  Because of this he was not able to do much work in the yard with me any more.  Later, when he developed other complications from the lung transplant and then chronic rejection he couldn't work in the yard at all.  He missed it terribly and I missed him too; his companionship and my project partner.

To make up for his absence in helping in the yard, Bill would make sure I had fresh lemonade available to prevent me from getting over heated.  He would walk out onto our driveway and stand with an ice cold cup of lemonade and wait for me to notice when I came by on the lawn mower.  I would get very sore after a long day of working in the yard.  Once finished, I would hobble to the shower.  When I came out of the bathroom, I would often find that Bill had changed the sheets on our bed, folded down the blankets, fluffed up the pillows, set out my favorite lotions and the TV remote.  He would also surprise me with an icy cold fountain Coke on the bedside table.

I've worked in the yard often since Bill died, but for some reason today made me think about the special pampering I am now missing.  It's the little things.