People Are Asking
There haven’t been any Dane and Jane eruptions of volcanic size or that register on the Richter scale. I’m not certain why this seems to disappoint some people.
I shared my puzzlement with Dane, and we discussed it. We’re not certain, but the hitch seems to be in the fact that we've been living together for almost six months and haven't melted down, thrown a vase, or killed each other.
“How’s it going with Dane and you living together?”
“Good! We’ve always wanted to be able to take care of each other if something ever happened, and something did happen. We'd been discussing this very thing only days before Dane’s heart attacks.”
“But how’s it really going?”
“Good! Dane is committed to getting better so he can work again in May, and I’m helping him.”
“Yes, but I know you like being alone, and you always say that Dane enjoys his solitude too.”
“Yep. I go to my office to work, write, and often meet friends for a long hike. I regularly take Dane to his house for a day or two to visit his cats, and he often goes into the spare bedroom to read a book.”
“But how’s it really going?”
Before this period of cohabitation, we’d often explained to friends that we have two separate homes because we met as adults and each of us already had a home. To us, this is straightforward. To others, it seems to indicate we can’t live together.
But why wouldn’t we be able to live together? Perhaps because I never seem to remember basic things, such as where the scissors drawer is after using the scissors to open a bag of dog food, and Dane would never be able to live with my forgetfulness.
Or maybe because I go crazy when Dane is silently (except for his chewing) standing behind me while I’m writing. So I’m committed to two houses and never anything less.
But the honest-to-Pete truth is that we do well together. I feel kind of odd, like we’re letting people down, but Dane doesn’t. Dane thinks it’s funny—which makes me see the humor also.
Recently, I started making up different answers to the big question of how Dane and I are managing while living together during his recovery.
I could say, “Yesterday, I ate my dinner sitting on the toilet with the door closed. It’s the only room in the house with a door, and I need my alone time.”
Dane could try this approach: “My brother takes me grocery shopping. I load up on all sorts of crap Jane won’t let me eat. When Jane is working or in the shower, I sneak down to the basement to eat the forbidden treats.”
By far the most difficult day for both of us in these past months was the day Dane had to go back to Gundersen to get stents put in. It turned into horrendous hours of waiting, making both of us anxious and crabby. We were exhausted, but we thought Dane would miraculously feel 100 percent better the following day. When he didn’t, that was the last straw—we both crashed.
But we didn’t yell or scream at each other. I walked up the hill to blow off steam and ranted to a girlfriend on the phone, and Dane recovered by dozing off and on.
It’s been over four weeks since Dane had an internal defibrillator put in, and he can now safely lift his left arm over his head. Without fail, he goes for a walk every day, watches his diet, and takes his medications meticulously.
April 23 is the day he’s waiting for. I’ll drive him to the DMV office, where he’ll get his driver's license reinstated and be the happiest man on earth! Not because he can’t stand living with me one day longer, or I with him, but because he’ll have his independence back. The ability to come and go as he pleases. And, most importantly, he’ll be able to work again when his seasonal job starts in May.
So, to answer the big question, we’re good! More than good. We’ve learned that we can live together under one roof, for better or worse. But now it’s going to take time for both of us to get used to not living together!