“I’ll do my part,” Liz said. “Don’t worry about that.”We were holding hands across the small table and she gave mine a squeeze.“Are you ...eally doing OK?” she asked.“It will take some getting used to,” I admitted. “I keep worrying that I’ll pick my nose or scratch my butt.”“It happens,” Liz said with a shrug. “Look, I’m the celebrity. To these people ... and I want you to understand that I don’t think this way ... to these people, you’re an accessory. You’re like a handbag or a pair of shoes.. I don’t want him to think he can exert himself and end up with a heart attack. I will not lose my husband because you have an itch. I confine our lovemaking to oral sex on Wednesday. Saturday night, after he has had a day’s rest from work. I allow him to have intercourse with me on top so he doesn’t exert himself too much. So no, there is no time for you.”Then mom brought up her idea of me taking care of Aunt Lois’ needs. “You should have been a little more open to my idea. I know I could have. More

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