George Mairs, CareGiver

George, of Tucson, cares for his wife, Nancy, who has MS.

When I married Nancy Smith, I think probably sex was foremost on my mind. We had a passionate courting, and while there were other aspects of ourselves that drew us to one another, I was probably a little single-minded as far as the sexuality went.

I admired her mind, believe it or not. Nancy was writing at that time, she was a student at Wheaton, and there was something very engaging about her art. She was very open about it and shared it a great deal, and I think somehow I thought that would be part of our lives together, and for heaven's sake it was. We've been married for 30 years, and that's become a very very important part of our lives, particularly now that she's disabled; it pulls us out of our circle of safety here and pulls us out into the world.

We travel, we go to colleges around the country. We meet fans, people who have heard of me, with whom I have a strange sort of one-way relationship. People will ask me what's happening with the cancer. A few bold souls have even asked me about my extra-marital affairs which Nancy has written about, and that's a heck of a way to meet a stranger. So, yeah, the sexual enthusiasm has continued, and the love of her art.

Those are two things, among others -- I won't say that they're the only things to our lives. Two things that have lasted. Two things that were expectations and flowered. My career in the Navy involved me being a Supply Corps officer. And I would go to sea for periods of 3 to 4 weeks. Nancy would stay over at a cottage in Rhode Island.

As far as the caregiving went; she was having problems of depression at that point. And sometimes it became very difficult for her to function. This was a tremendous surprise for me. I was afraid. I didn't understand what was happening. Why would she withdraw to a comfortable sofa, for instance, and she would stay there and become somewhat immobilized. This lead eventually lead to what we used to call a nervous breakdown. Her depression got so severe, that she literally froze at the corner of our couch. Eventually wound up in a mental hospital.

I came to learn through that process that for me I could hang in. I might not understand what was going on, but I could be there and I could be a comfort, and I could bring her chocolate ice-cream sodas on the ward, where she was locked up, and, even though I didn't know what was going on, I could be sort of a participant. So caregiving began out of a lot of ignorance, and fear, and finding out that I could be of some use, and it suited my personality.

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