Someone Saved my Life Today

Is it possible to have an egalitarian, mutually supportive relationship in which one’s spouse has relentlessly, literally saved the others’ life?

It has become cliché, the song in which the singer praises the love of his life who appears at the bar to spirit the singer from the Jezebel about to doom him to a life of fruit wine, pork rinds and satellite Television.

         Those of us of a certain age (old) remember Elton John’s “Someone saved my life tonight” in which Elton was probably saved by a gay lover from the charade  of a heterosexual sham marriage (although he had one of those too)

Cynthia has literally saved my life, on a monthly basis yet. The most recent  episode occurred a few weeks ago when I woke feverish and confused, in Boston. Had I been alone, I would have fallen back to sleep and death.

         The problem is, I have become overly solicitous .I will never be able to repay her.  I can never show my gratitude, perhaps she should start walking into the road so I can pull her from speeding trucks.

This obsequiousness  annoys her. I keep asking “Are you OK?” hoping she’ll have some complaint that will help even the score. My adoration quickly turns annoying. We cannot live this way .

I think of the Madonna /whore dichotomy. Men apparently want to marry a Madonna for every room in the house but the bedroom but a whore in the boudoir. I  have a trichotomy, a Madonna/whore/superhero  one.

         She has saved my life on numerous occasions.  She has pulled me from the jaws of hypoglycemia on countless occasions. She has contradicted one of my physicians when he was clearly wrong and started a life-saving therapy.

It has become somewhat of a joke; the number of people who have saved my life.  I remember  the lovely Dutch couple in Iceland who gagve me chocolate and a blanket when I became hypothermic. Betty and Alan have saved my life often just by showing up. It’s. difficult to owe so much to so many people, wishing I will never, hopefully, have to repay them.

The point is, I don’t live with Alan or Betty (yet) I must make our marriage work on a daily basis. I am depleted, I can’t run or climb or bike yet, and may never be able to. I feel  guilt that  the love of my life has  struggled so hard to  save  damaged goods. She ran into a burning house to salvage a beloved  photo, only to find the  photo suffered water and smoke damage .And a limp.

  I’m home bound now, and I frantically try to find interesting topics to discuss when Cyn comes home.  It is the least I can do for a superhero.P: blogging?

Marriage is lived moment to moment. In the dwindling time we have left, neither of us benefits from my hero worship. I find it hard to believe Lois Lane could ever find comfort in Superman’s embrace (or did he have to give up his powers?  I dunno.)