Loved & Resented
Our dialysis story — chapter 21
Ben loves me, yes.
He appreciates me, yes.
He also resents me.
Because he needs me.
We’ve been together for 19 years. Until last year, Ben always knew he could manage on his own. If our relationship crumbled, he’d return to New Jersey, rent a place, travel by public transportation, and get by fairly well.
Last year when he was sick and hospitalized for nine days, and when he fell and had a brain bleed, he thought his dependence on me was temporary. He was sure he’d return to what normal was before June.
That didn’t happen. His steady improvement stalled in February, and then, he began to regress. At the time, we didn’t know why, but we learned his kidney function was deteriorating rapidly.
Now, he has dialysis three days a week. The brain fog from toxins in his blood has cleared, but his short-term memory is far from reliable.
He knows that he needs me. He knows that no one else will do what I do for him. He knows no one loves him as I do.
Knowing how dependent he is on me makes him feel weak and unmanly.
That’s why he resents me.
I understand — to a degree. It’s difficult to lose control of your life. It’s disappointing when life goes in an unwanted direction.
I get it. My life has veered off track, too. This isn’t what I expected, but I roll with it. I love Ben. He needs me. I’ll do whatever I need to do.
End of discussion.
Because of his memory issues, I keep up with his medications, appointments, and, well, everything else in our lives.
Sometimes he acts like a defiant child, refusing to eat or do the simplest tasks of self-care. He knows his memory isn’t good and tells me to remind him; then, he gets irritated when I do. He doesn't want to feel dependent. He’ll tell me to stop bothering him. He’ll say I’m a pain in his neck.
Most of the time, he’s incredibly sweet and caring, wanting to help me in any way he can. He often tells me how much he loves and appreciates me. When I pick him up from dialysis, his smile is radiant. The nurses say he talks about me all the time. Seeing us holding hands, one nurse said:
You two are so cute, like teenagers in love.
I know I’m not always as patient as I could be. My plate is full. I’m juggling Ben’s health, my health, our pets, our home, our bills, and my work, which includes eight clients, all of whom demand chunks of my time and attention. I constantly feel like I am failing something or someone.
I’m doing the best I can.
And I think Ben is, too.
It’s just that our best isn’t always good enough at any given moment.
Our mental, emotional, and physical health are entwined, and we sometimes forget that. We think if we take care of the physical part, our work is done.
Ben and I are learning to be more gentle with one another, to accept our limitations and mistakes, but also to be honest with one another.
Sometimes being honest means getting angry or impatient. But loving and being loved always means saying I’m sorry and always means trying to understand.
Yes, sometimes Ben resents me. But I know that his love is much greater than his flashes of resentment.
Sometimes I’m impatient. But he knows my love is much greater than my flares of impatience.
We didn’t expect to be here like this. But we are and we’re figuring it out . . .
Together.
© Dennett 2023
Our Dialysis Story:
Kim Zuch is also chronicling her husband’s journey with kidney disease and dialysis:
