We have a perfect marriage of balance of opposites, of yin and yang.

I am the well one; he is the sick one.

He is the hypochondriac; I am the (recovering) enabler.

I have stress; he develops a situation of his own even more stressful for me than mine original one, making me focus on his stress rather than dealing with my own.

I have an urgent situation on my plate; he has to go to the emergency room.

I have vacation; he gets sick.

Martyr and survivor.

I am the peacemaker; he is the aggressor.

He is a chaotic hoarder; I need boundaries and order.

I am on time; he is always late/last minute.

He leaves all the lights on and the tv and the computer; I turn all off but the one I'm using.

Right now, with the angiogram on the horizon for tomorrow, he has overdosed on sorbitol for sluggish bowel and I have called paramedics to transport him to the ER.

What he wanted was for me to stay home from work, but I think he needs emergency medical treatment. I have known of two people in my life who died from diarrhea, unable to get enough fluids internally to counteract the loss. Then there was the cholera outbreak in India...don't want to remember a dreadful experience.

From what I saw before I left this morning, when I return home, the house will be spattered with (and smell like) excrement, water bottles and dirty clothes and food wrappers everywhere. I have spray cleaner and air deodorizers at the deployment ready, The washing machine and dryer will get their workout tonight.

I had planned to spend the evening in quiet contemplation, maybe go to the monthly vesper services, but the universe has a belly laugh at your expense when you make plans....