Helicopter Husband
When I first came to Europe to start our relationship, D-L's friends, as well as her daughter, warned me vociferously not to "hover" around Donna-Lane in the manner of a protective boyfriend/fiance/spouse. After all, she had lived on her own for years, decades, and not only was well capable of fending for herself, she has the sort of alpha female personality that tends to do first and communicate later. For the first few months (maybe even now), I was fearful that I would say or do something to offend her independent spirit and she'd send me packing.
Circumstances have changed recently, albeit temporarily. Since July, D-L has been going through chemotherapy treatments following both gallbladder and breast cancer surgery. The chemicals leave her pretty fatigued most days of the week (after a good day or two immediately following a treatment) and most hours of the day. She does well to sit at the computer for maybe an hour before she has to crawl back into bed to rest and ease her shakiness.
I've transitioned from being her toy boy to being the family chef, butler, opener of the heavy door (that sticks halfway) between our bedroom and the bath, and steady hand when walking up a flight of stairs or through the hospital corridor on our twice-weekly visits.
Because she has passed out once and almost a second time from low blood pressure, I am rarely out of earshot or more than a few feet away. Yes, I hover. So a few days ago D-L dubbed me her "helicopter husband." Like a "helicopter parent" who is over-protective of their kid. (I was that too - when my daughter was learning to drive as a teenager, I first took her to a large, empty parking lot. Since the car we had at the time "idled" at about 20 mph, I saw no need for her to touch the gas pedal!)
Donna-Lane vows that once she is through the chemo and the radio, she wants to balance the scales by waiting on me for awhile. I'll settle for turning in my rotor blades and returning to our normal no-hover lifestyle.
Helicopter husband
My mother could have created the manual for the helicopter mom a half a decade before the term was created. I hated being over protected.
Fast backward to three years ago when Rick and I were getting together. My friends who approved of him and actually thought he might be good for me took him aside and said, "Don't smother her. Give her freedom. She's very independent." The underlining message was "Or you'll be history."
My daughter added another message, "And she'll steal your socks."
He believed both. Some of his socks disappeared. He didn't hover.
Then I developed breast cancer. I made sure he attended all my appointments, although in most there was only French spoken and I had to translate. He had said this is a motivation to speed up his learning process. I wanted him to not feel left out.
We went thru the bad news, the good news, the bad news, the good news. They think they got it all. Chemo and radiation would be preventative.
After surgery, I still was able to maintain my full independence. But with chemo, I was less brave. There have been times walking across the room has left me without energy. Doing chores that should be ordinary were/are exhausting. Unloading a dishwasher shouldn't leave me shaking, but it does on the bad days.
He took over.
"You are a helicopter husband," I've told him as he worried about leaving me alone. For whenever I was weak, his blade rotated at full speed making sure I don't faint on him as I did one day.
He didn't deny it.
Now chemo is almost at an end. Radiation will be tiring but not like this. In a few months I will regain my strength and we will be back to normal. I've promised him that I will do the cooking for months rather than our alternating under our previous arrangement.
"We'll see," he said.
I hate being dependent, wanting to do stuff but not having the energy. I have learned that it is okay to ask for help, to not always be 100% strong. I have learned that having a hovering, helicopter husband is a good thing when needed.
Because on my good days, when I do feel normal, he lands his helicopter and shuts off the hover mode, I know our lives will resume.
Meanwhile I need a clean pair of socks, and when he isn't looking I'll check out his drawer.
Helicopter husband
My mother could have created the manual for the helicopter mom a half a decade before the term was created. I hated being over protected.
Fast backward to three years ago when Rick and I were getting together. My friends who approved of him and actually thought he might be good for me took him aside and said, "Don't smother her. Give her freedom. She's very independent." The underlining message was "Or you'll be history."
My daughter added another message, "And she'll steal your socks."
He believed both. Some of his socks disappeared. He didn't hover.
Then I developed breast cancer. I made sure he attended all my appointments, although in most there was only French spoken and I had to translate. He had said this is a motivation to speed up his learning process. I wanted him to not feel left out.
We went thru the bad news, the good news, the bad news, the good news. They think they got it all. Chemo and radiation would be preventative.
After surgery, I still was able to maintain my full independence. But with chemo, I was less brave. There have been times walking across the room has left me without energy. Doing chores that should be ordinary were/are exhausting. Unloading a dishwasher shouldn't leave me shaking, but it does on the bad days.
He took over.
"You are a helicopter husband," I've told him as he worried about leaving me alone. For whenever I was weak, his blade rotated at full speed making sure I don't faint on him as I did one day.
He didn't deny it.
Now chemo is almost at an end. Radiation will be tiring but not like this. In a few months I will regain my strength and we will be back to normal. I've promised him that I will do the cooking for months rather than our alternating under our previous arrangement.
"We'll see," he said.
I hate being dependent, wanting to do stuff but not having the energy. I have learned that it is okay to ask for help, to not always be 100% strong. I have learned that having a hovering, helicopter husband is a good thing when needed.
Because on my good days, when I do feel normal, he lands his helicopter and shuts off the hover mode, I know our lives will resume.
Meanwhile I need a clean pair of socks, and when he isn't looking I'll check out his drawer.
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