To have and have not.

Suffice is to say that our marriage had many ups and downs, as most marriages do but when you are going through those 'ups and downs' you feel as though you are the only one that is experiencing them. We, like most couples, lurched from one crisis to another but in hindsight it was the making of us and was the glue that kept us together.

I had no misgivings about the age difference between us but Beryl had at times talked about her inability to give us kids, as if it was something to do with her and her age. I never thought of going for a test to find out who had the problem because I was of the mind that if it does not happen, then it does not, that's life and what it throws at you, except it or forever be in pain of self doubt. However I got the impression that Beryl thought that she had let me down for not producing children and often asked me if I was 'dissapointed' in her not producing, as it were.

Beryl, who was 32 when we married, had her periods* for another 14 or 15 years after the consumation of it and had every opportunity to concieve...but it just did not happen. Every now and again throughout our marriage she would bring this subject up and beat herself up with anxiety over it, there was no need. I will not cry over something that I have no control over but have sympathy towards those who do.

Anyway, needless to say our marriage survived over the many obstacles that life throws at us and we got to our Ruby Wedding anniversary on the 14th of August 2011.

Beryl was riddled by Alzheimers by then so a get together for our aniversary was out of the question.

We got no cards from any of our families on our Ruby wedding aniversary which tells me that we are alone in this crisis and it is just me and Beryl up against the rest of the world...just as I knew it has always been.

*It irks me that men have a problem with a women's menstrual cycle and are 'frightened' to ask a chemist, or buy from a supermarket that that their partner needs. I regularly went to the chemist for tampons for Beryl when she had the need and did not turn a hair...until I saw what she did with them...ewwwwww. And us men think we suffer!

...To be continued.

What's a neverous breakdown anyway?

Fueled by that 'flee in my ear' by married soldiers that extolled the virtues of married women in the forces should unreservedly follow their spouses I hassled Beryl to come join me and give up her adherence to making a home for ourselves and saving money to do so. She gave up her solid work to enter serfdom as an army wife, a roll that took it's toll on her mentally.

Munster, Germany was a turning point.

We were given, as our army abode, the top floor of a shambolic house which is commonly known as the attic. To say it was spartan is a disservice to Spartans, it was a shithole! The old and decrepit woman who ran it was fond of saying in her best English "no hot water!."

But hey, there was a pub just across the road and I, with my army mates, availed myself of it and on certain nights (most nights if I am to be truthful,) it was MEN ONLY.

Beryl was a woman that believed in woman's rights and she would stick to it rigidly, she would not see women being treated as mere dogs that should be kept in their kennels and only bark when their masters say so. She was forthright and did not shy of saying what she believed in and if she was wrong she would say so. She was that type of woman. Her humanity was taken away from her when I 'forced' her to follow me in Germany.

And in Germany I saw her disintegrate from a caring, compassionate woman to a casualty of my fantasy of having a wife at my side that did my bidding, no matter the consequences!

One day we 'lads' were having a drink over the road when Beryl walked in saying she wanted some company and then got herself a drink and sat with us. Needless to say the 'man buddies' of mine were not impressed and never let an opportunity go to tell me what to do to keep my 'woman' in check.

True to the idiot that I was, when we got back to our dismal attic flat, I became John Wayne and drunkenly took her over my knee and 'spanked' her before paying for it handsomely.

A few days later Beryl had a 'nervous breakdown'.

In the army hospital I was told by a psychiatrist that the forces have no thought to 'army wifes'. They allow husbands to bring them over to a country where they do not understand the language nor the culture and the husbands go on 'exercises' which takes their menfolk away for weeks or months at a time! Some hardy women can take this but not every woman is cut out to be an army wife. There is more that I can say on this but I will not, I will just tell you that Beryl's breakdown was my primer to get out of the army as she was more imprtant than it.

I will reflect to the past sometimes in this blog but I want to start dealing with the here and now and with  my wifes Alzheimer's because, as I write, her condition worsens. I will have all the time in the world to write when this terrible disease takes it's final toll.

To be continued...