I once smashed my glasses between my forehead and the tile floor at work during an epilepsy seizure. Afterwards I had a really black eye and a large scar on the forehead.
My husband didn't like to walk beside me for a week or so afterwards, as everyone looked askance at him.
Four or five of my emergency room visits have been due to epilepsy, one due to an accident with a box-cutter at work, one because I thought I had a blood clot in my leg and one after a car accident where a drunk driver ploughed into our car (all six of us survived, luckily enough).
My husband has never raised even a digit to me. He's kind and considerate and generous. This week, as he's on vacation and I'm not, he's cooking me dinner each afternoon.
What is a real man and a real woman?