Sometimes I forget ....

.... that what my husband does for a living can be dangerous. He's a doctor. That shouldn't be very dangerous.

And yet ...

He is supposed to help people. And yet many of the people he helps are not right in their brains. They are dangerous. They are unpredictable. 

I try not to think too hard about what he does. About the fact that the people who come in those doors are not always mentally well. I pray for him. And I pray he comes home to us well.

I also pray for his own mental well-being. We have a "policy" in our house. John only shares the stories that he NEEDS or WANTS to share. I don't enjoy sadness. I don't enjoy loss. I don't enjoy grief. But some nights, I can tell he needs to talk about them. 

I will never forget the first time this hit me. John came home from a rotation while in medical school at The Mayo Clinic. He looked visibly shaken. He shared with me the story of an elderly man who had wanted to just die at home. However, his children had talked him into a surgery that he did not want. A surgery that most likely would not work.

John shared how he sat with this man who was dying all alone. He didn't have his kids or wife and siblings near him because everyone wanted him to try this one last thing. John was really moved by the idea of dying well. We live a full life. Why do our last moments need to be so scary?

While my husband is incredibly outgoing, he is an introvert. I don't think I realized this until the last decade of our lives as children have been sprinkled throughout our years. He doesn't need a lot of conversation. He just needs the kids and I present and available. 

So that's what I am. I am available. If he needs to talk about something that bothered him, I listen. If he just needs to say, "It was a really exhaustion day," I let him say that and don't ask more. 

I am so thankful that he LOVES his job. I am also thankful that he truly LOVES the people he works with. He works alongside such amazing nurses and mid-levels and administration. It's been a trying time in our community. The county is moving from two hospitals to one due to a merger. This has meant John working many, many, many more hours than he wanted to. 

This week he worked five, 12-hour shifts in a row which left him completely spent. He came home the last few nights, ate a quick dinner, did his never-misses-it one hour of reading with the kids and climbed into bed barely uttering another word.

I am so thankful for the man I have married and how he provides for our family. Raising four children is the most exhausting thing I have ever done. But raising them without him would be impossible,