He doesn't walk easily, having lost a toe to diabetes in 2016. But for the last two months, he's found any physical activity exhausting. Even folding laundry.
I'm glad and I'm mad. Glad that he's finally doing it. I love him and want him around for years to come! Mad that he waited, literally, 9 1/2 years. He's a decade older, a decade weaker, than when the procedure was first recommended.
Oh, well. I have slowly learned that I can't run everyone's lives for them, much as I would like to. All I can do is love and support him. And pray.