Lucky, thus far

When I broke both wrists almost two years ago, my husband took care of me, feeding me every day until I could hold a fork, and bathing me every day until those yo-yos at the hospital finally sent me a home health aid a month after my fall.

My girlfriend's husband, plagued with physical and emotional problems since he underwent a couple of surgeries a couple of years ago, is in no condition to help his wife now that it's going to be her turn to undergo surgery shortly. She'll have to hire someone to take care of their home because he can barely wash a dish--and he's only roughly the same age as my own husband.

I consider myself very fortunate, indeed.