A Medical Detour

During the pending divorce of 1994, Chuck appeared sincere with his tears, but how quickly his tears evaporated, and the neglect and abuse returned. Shoving me against walls or into closets, while I would cry out and plead for him to cease fell on deaf ears.

When I proclaimed, he was abusive, he was unyielding that it was necessary to “push me around” so I would listen to him. Hysterically, I always proclaimed that my ears worked fine and if he would just converse with me, I would be able to “hear” more clearly.

Now I reflect on those incredibly abusive and demoralizing events and wonder how I could have endured such abuse for as long as I did. I so earnestly believed God would heal Chuck’s heart toward me. He would always proclaim he didn’t want a divorce and he would fight to keep me from divorcing him. I was naïve enough to believe it was because he truly loved me. However, 26 years later I would realize it was solely for financial reasons; not because of love.

The more he pushed me from his life and refused all forms of physical and emotional interaction with me, I should have realized he had no love for me. The cliché of “love is blind” was evidenced throughout my marriage to Chuck. I loved him so deeply but from the on-set our marriage was what he deemed countless times, a necessity. He touted he believed he had to marry to be successful in his career.

I was the “free maid” for maintaining his home, running his errands and completing assigned tasks. Even though he spent the duration of our marriage complaining my salary and career were inferior to his, he commanded how I would spend my income. I pleaded to spend time with me, whether for an event or merely time alone with the two of us. Sometimes he obliged, but the majority of the time, he chose to remain at home alone or to retreat to his office (or now I have to believe whomever was in his life at the time).

There were occasional happy times in our marriage of travel, hosting parties and events in our home, visiting with our children or other family, etc. There were even times we would watch a television movie and each cry when we realized our love and marriage was similar to the characters portrayed before us.

It was often I would go to him, hugging him and reminding him of our lives and the blessings we possessed. Also, I frequently reminded Chuck that we had much to lose if we could not make our marriage work. He would just stare at me and walk away. I never imagined his heart and mine were not on the same page. From his words to me years later, he was planning and scheming even then as to how and when he could rid himself of me. No matter what reprieve we had from the arguing and bitterness, reality quickly returned with the discord in our lives.

Christian counseling remained a routine component of my life. It began within the first two weeks of our marriage and over 25 years later, I continued in counseling in an attempt to become a better wife to Chuck and a better mother to our children. I also understood that if I chose to remain married to Chuck, I had to learn to cope with and endure his harsh, abusive and controlling ways.

Counseling was also tool to allow me to help myself. It was not a mode of helping others. I had overcome the trauma of the maltreatment at the hands of my excessively abusive parents, so I contemplated almost daily if I could learn to sustain Chuck’s punitive treatment and attitude toward me. My love for Chuck was so great that my faith was God would heal Chuck’s heart toward me. Little did I know in 1994 that 19 years later, not following through with the divorce would be a sorrow I endured every day of my life.

The summer of 1994 would be another milestone for our family. When we picked Christian up at the airport, he was gaunt and extremely pale. He noted he didn’t feel well, but as a dietitian I knew immediately this was far more than the stress of being a college student. I knew he was not metabolizing his dietary intake. His inability to consume even a few bites of his meal without nausea and vomiting was alarming.

Within days of his arrival we made an appointment to see a physician at the Cleveland Clinic in Ft. Lauderdale. Christian was diagnosed with a severe case of Crohn’s; a disease of the gastrointestinal tract. The doctor concluded Christian required immediate surgery. The remainder of his summer vacation was spent recuperating from the surgery with enough strength to return to his classes in the fall.

Unable to drive back to OK, Chuck drove Christian’s car to the University of Oklahoma with a very weakened Christian in tow. The fall semester was a challenge for Christian, but he endured and by December 1994, he felt like the son we knew prior to his diagnosis and illness. He would be a Crohn’s patient for the remainder of his life, as it would alter his lifestyle, but would not be terminal if well maintained.

Events such as this reminded me that I didn’t want to be single. I wanted to be with Chuck and our children when such life experiences occurred. I merely continued to hope and pray that Chuck would come to love and desire me as his wife and partner.

Please continue my autobiographical journey which I began blogging in April 2016.

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