Monday, February 21, 2011

Year thirteen: I am lucky

Thirteen years ago today, I stood in front of family and friends, held The Boy's hands in mine, and promised to spend the rest of my life with him.

I don't remember much about the ceremony itself, apart from these two things:

1) Our officiant began his sermon with the words, "We stand here today on the brink of war." This was news to us; had we been so busy with wedding prep that we missed a major event? Turned out we'd bombed some stuff in Sudan and Afghanistan, but it didn't develop into anything. Not that time, anyway.

2) When it was my turn to recite our vows, my use of the phrase "I choose you" caused The Boy to think of Ralph Wiggum on Valentine's Day, which brought on an unstoppable giggling fit. Everyone else thought it was nerves. But I knew. And I have not yet let him forget it.

What I don't recall is whether we mentioned anything specific about sickness and health in our shared promise.

In past anniversary posts, I've written recollections of things we've eaten during our time together.

This year, I want to talk about right now.

The past couple of months have been crazy, scary, strange, frustrating — and occasionally amazing. And The Boy has been at my side for all of it.

When I was in hospital for five nights, he stayed with me, sleeping on a fold-out couch, leaving only to go to work and then run home to shower and shave and feed the cat.

(That's [shower and shave] and [feed the cat].)

This is one of my favorite shots from that week. It's about 6am and there's a snowstorm raging outside (which is why nothing is visible through the window). I'm in bed, The Boy is working, and the nurse is in the bathroom emptying my hat.

Since we got the diagnosis, he has rearranged his schedule or taken time off work to take me to every appointment. He comes home with new types of yogurt for me to try, to keep up my protein. He collects my prescriptions. He makes sure I stay warm and rested and hydrated.

He doesn't complain when I wake up several times a night for water in- and output. He hugs me when I'm sad, calms me when I'm frustrated, understands what I want to say when my mouth is too sore for me to talk properly.

He has missed out on evenings with friends, not to mention the loss of our usual adventures with cocktails and good dinners. He has shouldered more than his share of snow shoveling, housework, and general stress.

There aren't enough ways to describe how much I love this man.

Happy anniversary, sweetie.



Blogger Linda said...

Happy anniversay!!!! I'm so glad that you choo choo choosed eachother!!! Xoxo scurvyann

7:50 AM  
Blogger adele said...

What a lovely, thoughtful post.

I hope your treatment progresses smoothly, and that this time next year, you're writing to tell us all about your spectacular anniversary dinner. :)

8:08 AM  
Blogger Carmen said...

I love this post so much! Happy Anniversary.

3:23 PM  
Blogger Nikki said...

Awww...I think I just fell in love with Diego :)

9:11 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


2:31 PM  

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