After five years of cleaning him, lifting him, and being his full-time nurse, I overheard a conversation between my paralyzed husband and a stranger. He was saying that I was his “free servant” and that he wouldn’t leave me a penny.

The neurologist from the Front Range Medical Pavilion spoke gently, but without illusions. He explained the lesions in clinical terms, in a calm voice, emphasizing their permanent nature. When he finished, a heavy silence fell.

I didn’t cry then. I took Lucas’s hand and promised him I wouldn’t leave him. I told him we would adapt. I believed that love was synonymous with endurance.

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