We hadn't seen Max for quite a while, and that was unusual.  Though truth to tell we knew also that despite his indomitable will not to succumb to pain, his usual route through the ravine was becoming increasingly difficult for him.  The specialist had informed him almost a year ago that his knees were grating bone on bone.  He needed surgery.  His wife needed the same surgery.  They were on a waiting list.

And while Max's wife was in a condition of almost total dependence on her husband, pretty well confined full-time to a wheelchair, requiring Max to do just about everything for her, he was determined he would never allow himself to surrender his independence, his physical capability.  He was devoted to his task of caring for her, and he did receive some relief in care workers appearing a total of seven hours weekly to allow him his brief forays out for exercise but managing and balancing his needs with that of his wife was becoming increasingly fraught.

Max has such a slight build, and he's in good physical shape outwardly.  He cares as meticulously for his physical essence, as much as he is able to control it, as he does for his wife's helplessness.  He attributes her swift descent into disablement to her resignation to the pain caused by her arthritic condition, increasingly relying on a wheelchair to alleviate the pain, until she was no longer able to exert any physical presence whatever.  He wouldn't allow himself to succumb.

When we came across one another finally a day previously, we could see from the slower-than-usual, laboured way he was proceeding that he wasn't his usual self.  He was listing to one side as he approached us, but the usual wide smile was securely in place.  We were glad to see one another, and we told him we'd somehow been missing him; our schedules appeared to have gone off.

No, he said, he'd been too busy of late, had missed a good many days out enjoying and exercising in the ravine.  His wife's condition was deteriorating.  We wondered how he managed, in any event, with his slight physical presence as opposed to her growing bulk, but he grins and says he manages.  A few years back he had taken advantage of a government assistance program to help defray costs of home renovation, and he'd had the bathroom in his one-story house altered to aid in lifting and manoeuvring his wife.

I told him how good he looked.  And it was true, he looked jaunty and content, despite his new limp.  Leaning on one of his walking sticks that he always used to propel himself through the ravine at a pace we couldn't possibly match in earlier days, he grinned, said he felt pretty good.  But, he said, he and his wife were preparing to temporarily move into a 24-hr-care facility for a week.

The very next day, he said, he was scheduled for surgery to remove his gall bladder.  Which procedure required a ten-day break from doing anything physical to aid in complete recovery.  And since he'd been unable to get anyone in for that period so they could stay in the house, they'd no option but to transfer themselves to the facility.  As had happened after his heart surgery two years back when he had recovered from that and his wife stayed alongside him in the private health care facility.

They have a son who lives close by.  Their daughter-in-law is a senior nurse.  Neither evidently is able to take the time to temporarily stay with them, to look after Max's wife's needs and they don't want to burden them in any event.  Post-surgery, Max says, he can do anything he likes during recovery, with the exception of physically straining himself by heavy lifting.

Just another hurdle Max has to get himself and his wife through before resuming their normal quotidian lifestyle.