If I ever become an invalid wife, this is where I will spend my time. It's not a big room, but it's surprisingly cheerful and comfortable.
I will need servants to take care of me because my husband might let me starve before he realized I hadn't eaten for a month.
It's not that he doesn't love me; in his own way, I'm sure he does. Still, I would be better off with somebody else feeding me.
I have a bad back and when it goes out, I can't walk for a few days. It comes and goes, and has for the last 20 years. That is about the worst thing that can happen the way I see it. Alex takes to lying next to me and napping the whole time I'm out of commission. He leaves my side long enough to fix himself something to eat, but then he comes back. In fairness to my husband, after 2 or 3 days, he will ask me "Are you sure you aren't hungry?"
Our bedroom is upstairs. It's really almost like sleeping in a tree house. The bedroom is long and has dormer windows on either side. It's a great bedroom, but when I have back spasms, I can't make it up or down the stairs. Plus, this little downstairs bedroom has a bath right attached (handy for if I have to crawl there).
When I was a girl, I read a lot of gothic romance novels. There was frequently an invalid wife, married to the lord of the manor. He went off to do whatever lords of the manor do every day. The invalid wife would have delicious meals brought to her on a tray with a beautiful rose in a silver vase by servants.
After her meal, another servant would come in to freshen her up for the day. The servant would brush her long golden tresses, and bathe her and put her into a fresh linen gown, with lace trim.
She would just lie there and read books and toss fretfully. It sounded damned good to me. For about 15 minutes in the afternoon (after lessons with the governess), the beautiful, quiet, well formed and immaculate children would come in to tell the invalid wife how much they loved her, before being whisked out by the governess so as not to tire Mama out too badly.
Now, keep in mind that the handsome husband, (lord of the manor guy) is probably knocking boots with the 20-something governess by now. Whatever. That part never bothered me too much. After all, he wasn't going to marry a governess, now was he?
Meanwhile, hubby would come home and kiss his wife's pale hands (wait, maybe I should say sun darkened hands so I can still be Mexican) and ask her how she was feeling. She would give him a tired but lovely and brave smile and say "Oh better, Darling!"
About that time, servants would arrive with more food for her, and he would go off to boink the governess or whatever he did in the evening.
My form of being an invalid wife would not be exactly the same as this story. First of all, I have no servants. The best I could do is order a pizza for delivery and gobble it down in bed if somebody (the pizza delivery boy?) would bring it in to me. Secondly, I would probably have one or more dogs on the bed with me. And thirdly, where the hell is my gin and tonic?