My husband is very worried about having his tooth pulled today. I'm listening, but not saying much, because there is nothing more to say and his anxiety is something so a part of him that I have no ability to soothe him. But part of him thinks I do. He wants to be rescued, when he's like this. I'd love to if I'd ever in my life had any success with rescuing. It's tempting to lecture, reassure, be logical, any number of useless things. But then he gets angry with me, because he's so angry at himself and his neediness. Instead, I respect that this is his issue, and he'll get through it in his own way. His own way involves lots of suffering, but he knows what I would do, if it were me. I'd attempt to separate the unnecessary suffering from the natural fear and talk myself down. I'd deep breathe and reassure myself that it will soon be over and I can ask for pain medication. He will maybe avail himself of these tools. Or not.
I seem to be talking a lot about not talking. Speech is about when to open your mouth, what comes out of it and when to keep it zipped. This is the keeping it zipped kind of situation. I'm hanging around physically until he leaves for the dentist; I'm available. I'm willing to listen. There are no wise words for him. I'm wise to know that, after almost 41 years of marriage. I'm the body in the room witnessing his suffering. That's the best I can do.
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