You took my husband that stands up straight. You took my partner, my co-parent who loves to lift his daughter in the air when our hockey team scores. You took my playmate for adventures and you took my lover. You took the man I expressly chose to get things off high shelves for me. You took my support. You have taken his laughter, his strong presence, his pride in his abilities and his confidence with his place in the world.
You said it would be better. You said he did not need the medications. That what you had been prescribing him for 18 years was “not proven effective for pain”. And when we were scared and unsure, you just went ahead and took it. You passed over our concerns, our insights, and our lived experience.
So now I ask – give him back. I demand you give back my loving, capable, pain-managed husband.
What you have left me with will not work. I do not want this broken man. This man who sleeps and sleeps. I do not want this grumpy snapper of heads. This cannot remember anything, easily confused, short-fused, needlessly over-sensitive, anxiety-ridden man. This man I can hardly hug, with ribs like spun sugar. This man cannot lift his child. This man is not my partner, he is my PATIENT.
You took my husband, I need my husband. You took her Daddy.
Give him back.