It’s been an unusual few weeks. I’ve been advocating for Doug with his doctors as we try to get to the bottom of his extremely high blood pressure and frequent headaches that border on migraines. An MRI is finally scheduled and adjustments to his BP medication, but that’s not really the reason for this post. It’s just the why behind this next thought.

Honestly, I’m tired. The kind of tired that’s not just physical, it’s mental, emotional, and layered. Thoughts, responsibilities, caregiving, and just life itself swirl constantly in my head. Whether I’m doing the dishes, feeding the furry kiddos, vacuuming, or working at my desk, the noise never really stops.

Lately, one simple, surprising thing keeps resurfacing: apples. Yes, apples. Doug has told me more than once recently that he doesn’t like them. And while that might not seem earth-shattering, it rocked me.

For over 20 years especially the last five, I’ve served Doug sliced apples with peanut butter and honey as part of his breakfast. Over time, the peanut butter faded out, and honey became his preferred dip. It was one of the few fruits he reliably enjoyed. But recently, when I handed him a smoothie and when he looked at it skeptically, I casually mentioned apples as an ingredient, he looked at me and said, “I don’t like apples.” I gently asked how long he’s felt that way, and he replied, “For decades.”

In that moment, all I could say was, “Good to know.”

I tried again a few days later he said yes to apples at lunch, so I served them with honey. All good. The next day? “No thanks, I don’t like apples.”

This is the dance of being a care partner. You don’t always know what each day, or even each hour will bring. Most days, I roll with it. Some days, I can’t help but joke, “Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?” And we laugh. And I thank God I know it’s the disease, not Doug.

Reaching this mindset isn’t always easy. But when we recognize the disease for what it is and let go of needing to correct or resist every shift it doesn’t necessarily get easier, but it becomes less heavy. And that shift, even in something as simple as apples, matters more than you’d think.

Because sometimes, it’s the smallest changes that remind us just how big this journey really is.