Quick judgments ignore the real, deeper stories

My husband is prone to handing a dollar or two to pretty much anyone who offers him a hard-luck tale. It's one of the things I like most about him.

Another is that he never makes the recipient feel like he needs to grovel before or after to show adequate gratitude for the little bit that has been given.

Recently, after such an encounter, it occurred to me that I'd never told him how much I appreciate his ability to let people maintain their dignity.

"You don't judge others, and I admire that. I can be pretty harsh in my assessments sometimes," I said.

He told me it wasn't true — that he sometimes looks at people who seem clearly to be able-bodied and he chooses to ignore them because there's really no reason why they can't help themselves, although admittedly this economy has put some otherwise healthy people in situations where it's not as simple as just getting a job. Our perceptions of laziness or ambition don't seem as relevant to whether there's real need these days, but they are hallmarks we are used to, and it's hard to give them up.

As he said it, we both froze momentarily. Sometimes, realization smacks you in the forehead hard enough to stop you cold, if only for a few seconds.

My friends often tell me how good my husband looks. That's relevant and somewhat reassuring, because he has a medical condition that will eventually kill him if he does not get an organ transplant, and he's one of thousands of Utahns listed, but waiting.

Still, he looks pretty good in a society where we judge your general health with a casual glance.

He has always been skinny, so recent weight gain makes him look more robust. Unfortunately, it's fluid retention, because his body no longer naturally processes out toxins. And his coloring is excellent, helped in no small part by the fact that he's Native American. He's never going to look pale, which is something most of us — me included — associate with being ill.

I'm fooled, too, and have to remind myself that he's not just being lazy as he slowly helps less around the house.

What a casual glance doesn't say is that he's bone tired with very little physical effort, and he wakes three times a night with screaming cramps because his muscles are wasting, despite medication to stop it. It doesn't tell you that he'd do anything to avoid dropping something, because if he has to bend down to pick it up, he'll hurt for days. Or that his body's dancing to a new rhythm that screws up day and night, so he's mildly disoriented and tired.