When someone you love is a doofus.

Actually, I don’t have any advice for anyone in this situation. But I have a lot of experience with loving someone who sometimes behaves as if he has no brain in his head. Today my doofus tolerance has been sorely tested.

Seven weeks ago, when The Husband was packing for his long stint on the road, I watched him count out exactly enough meds for the number of days he expected to be gone. He put them in a large pill minder, with the overflow in a zipper bag.

I said to him, “Don’t you think you should take your whole supply, just in case? We really have no idea what it’s going to look like for you or when you might actually get home again.” See, he takes meds that you really CAN’T just stop taking. Serious side effects will result. Not to mention the fact that he really needs them.

No, no, not necessary, he protested.

Ten days later, while I was at work, he phoned home in a panic. He needed the actual prescription bottles with him in case of any driving event that might require a drug test. Federal regulations.

He talked Middle Sister through how to mail the bottles to him overnight. He also instructed her to remove the medications from said bottles. Why, I don’t know. Why not just send the bottles with the meds in them? Just in case he might need them? But I didn’t arrive home until the deed was done. I’ve been staring at the bottle-less meds in zipper bags, sitting on his bare dresser, ever since.

This morning I got another distraught phone call. The Husband only had one more day’s worth of meds. He won’t be home until the middle of next week. We talked it through and came up with what I hope will be a workable solution. Luckily my schedule is fairly wide open today. I have time to deal with the necessary arrangements.

My question, repeatedly, for many years has been “WHY DO I HAVE TO CLEAN UP YOUR  MESSES?” Because this isn’t the first prescription medication emergency I’ve had to deal with. It’s not even the tenth. We’re way beyond that count.

How does an adult not notice when he’s getting down to just a few vital pills? How does an adult not consider the consequences ahead of time? Why does the wife have to play “mom” to the husband? Okay, I know the answer to all these questions is “The person in question has raging Attention Deficit Disorder.” Neither of the meds he needs is for treating ADD. He can’t take those meds because they seriously escalate another of his other diagnoses. Sigh..

I really do love my doofus. I’m very glad he’s coming home. But man, am I tired of being the cleaner-upper.

Note: In the interest of full disclosure, I must confess that my frustration today was multiplied when I went out, all virtuous, to mow our grass and discovered that I cannot get our mower to start. It’s only 9:30 am and I’m already fed up with this day.