failing the test

Ryan is resting in the darkened guest room. I have brought him ice for his neck. I have read him affirmations of wellness. I have coached him through deep breathing. I have massaged his neck. I have made him an appointment (4:30) for the doctor. I have served him applesauce. I have put out towels, dimmed the lighting, and made him take a hot shower.

Tessa is playing. I have braided her hair. I have worked on words (she's expressing an interest in reading, and knows how to read "cat" and "rat" and other "at" words!!!) with her. I have played ponies with her. I have made her oatmeal for breakfast. I have wiped her nose. I have held her in my lap. She is calling for me; she wants me to play fairies with her.

I have swept up the doghair (a morning ritual). The dishwasher is running. The beds are made.

I am still in my pajamas. My heart is heavy. My chest, still bruised, hurts. My eyes, though the sutures are out, still alternately itch and throb.

Tessa can't go to a playdate because then she'd spread her nasty cold.

Ryan can't do much without throwing up.

So I'm in charge. Again. It's up to me to make everyone happy and well, and it's my responsibility. I'm very responsible. Everybody else trumps me. Here we go again.

I'm pissed that I'm trapped in this pattern. Angry at Ryan because when we figured this out (stress triggers migraines for him; lack of sleep triggers migraines for him) in August that he didn't follow up and go to the doctor to get migraine meds to prevent this from happening again, even though he promised, even though I brought it up twenty times. VERY angry about that. Angry at Ryan for coming to bed at 2:30am when he has responsibilities and he's run down, so that he put himself in this position. Angry that now that we're in this position, he can't fix it, so it's up to me to manage. Very, very angry.

And yet I feel sympathy for him when I hear him retching, when I see how pale he is. His pain is real, and I love him and want to help him.

But he put himself in this position, and I have to bail him out. And nobody is taking care of me.

Tessa is tapping me; she's hungry. It's lunch time. Here we go. Today, I am failing the test. The only difference between today and other days is that today I am saying I AM MAD ABOUT THIS. I DESERVE BETTER. THIS IS UNFAIR. I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT.

I didn't ask Ryan if he would go to the doctor, I just made the appointment. (My assumption is that he'll get migraine meds to make the problem manageable.) I'm taking this into my own hands. If I have to pay the price for doing it someone else's way, we'll do it my way. I will not accept less.