Caregiving

“Home again, love?” Audrey asked. She had just walked through the door from the garage to see Mark lying on the couch. “Are you alright?”

Mark started to speak, coughed for ten seconds, then managed to force something out. “Had worse,” he said. The table next to him was laden with used tissues, pills bottles, and water glasses.

Audrey smiled sympathetically and sat down nearby. Not close enough to make Mark nervous. He hated the idea of being contagious. “It's been happening a lot lately. Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?”

Mark exhaled a deep, rattly breath. “Nothing they could do. It's all been viral stuff. I know perfectly well why it keeps happening, too. Nothing they can do about that, either.”

“You mean the work stress?” Audrey asked. Without asking, she grabbed one of the water glasses and went to the fridge to fill it up. “There are better ways to handle that, too.”

Another tissue was used and discarded. “I know. I should see my therapist again. Or at least go back to yoga or something. I just can't seem to catch a break... every time I start to recover enough to do something, I get sick again.”

“That must be really frustrating,” Audrey said, handing Mark the glass. “Is there anything I can do to help more?”

Mark just shook his head wearily. “Keeping juice stocked and supporting me is about all you can do. I appreciate your not hounding me about all the chores I've been leaving.”

“We all take our turns,” Audrey said. “I just want to help you through this as best I can. Now, when was the last time you ate something?”