Oz is my hero. I constantly push myself so I can be better. I figure, me better = Oz better = us even better. And that sounds wonderful to me.
So today, after not being able to get out of bed for hours and hardly functioning as a human being (thanks to my fibro), I decided to head to the gym with Oz. We normally just walk in the cardio theater (because apparently movies can even make exercise more enjoyable) and then relax in the spa.
Today, though, the elliptical machine was a medieval torture device. And even though I didn’t tell Oz, I know he noticed.
But Oz is my hero. He might have noticed but he didn’t say anything because he didn’t want me to feel worse. When I couldn’t walk afterwards, he was a steady shoulder. He ran into the store to grab almond milk for me even though he was tired. And he helped me conquer the steps at my house, when I was crying and said I couldn’t do it. He insisted, “You can do it. We will do it.”
(All in one evening.)
Oz is my incredible, unbelievable, diabetic, personal super-HERO.
I can’t wait to be better for him and for us. But for tonight, I’m going to be in a little pain but trying to relax all nestled up and tucked in the way Oz left me, focusing on how grateful I am for my hero. My soulmate. My Oz.