I am not a simple woman.
I am low maintenance, but any relief a man might get from that knowledge
can be easily neutralized by a 24 hour period of moods swings, the combination
of intelligence and sharp tongue, and reflex to shoot from the hip. I have had lots of years of being single to
become more the way I am, and for the most part, I am okay with it and have
made peace with my issues as I have chipped away at them, but my husband has
not had so much time as all that. And
though I have a relatively good perception of myself, I am fully aware that
life with me is difficult, so I figured I would spend my life single and maybe
take on a few cats. Then along comes
Chris, and here we are. Simple as that.
My husband is tough; tougher than any man I have met. He also has a heart the size of Texas, and
I’m amazed he has invested it in loving me.
I am a growly bear much of the time, and he puts up with it and me. I love his tenderness, his ferocity with anything
he perceives as a threat to me or the boys, and I am so thankful to be married
to an intelligent man who spends time contemplating, for we have great
conversations as a result. He makes me
think beyond myself.
I have to have surgery.
It all started out as trying to find out about a stubborn rash and has
ended up in a hysterectomy along with a watchful eye based on a mammogram. No cancer...just watching...My husband works
at the hospital, and has been on me for some time to get certain things taken
care of, so finally I did. Right now the
anxiety disorder I have, agoraphobia, fights to keep me hostage in the
house. It happens every year when I am
dealing with depression from bipolar.
So, adding a trip to the doctor for ANYTHING that requires an
open-backed hospital gown is not going to go so good with my mental state.
First it was the doctor’s office, which then morphed into an
ultra sound and mammogram...I’m thinking, “Okay I can handle a little machine going
over my abdomen and the mammogram...I can deal with that.” The doctor didn’t bother to explain the type
of ultra sound I would be getting. So, a
few mornings later I head in to get blood work, and then on to the waiting room
for the ultra sound. My husband, who is running
around fixing everybody’s IT issues comes by and says, “I’m not sure you
understand the type of ultra sound this is babe. You are too calm.” So he explains it to me, and I immediately go
into a panic attack.
So hubby not only has to wear his IT work hat but has to put
on his “calm the neurotic wife” hat as he holds me telling me it will all be
okay. He waits until I get things under
control, telling me, yes I can do it, and
no I cannot bolt from the waiting room.
Once I have a tenuous grip he leaves telling me to text him.
I won’t go into every sordid detail of the day, but my guy
was on top of it all whilst doing his job.
He made sure a friend of his, whom he says is the best, read the
radiology reports for my test. He was
busy talking to fellow workers about courses of action. He got all my tests and consulted with
everybody involved, all while I was at home, getting groceries, and going to
the boy’s basketball game. And when he
texted me panicked, it was because he had read my mammogram result and was sure
I had cancer. Then he went to the
radiologist and she told him exactly the situation and that it was not
cancer.
I cannot imagine the anxiety he was dealing with and how
much interference he ran to protect me, how much fear he experienced, while
wondering what to do. Through that whole
day he was a buffer between me and revelations my body had been keeping. My guy has been more than I could have been
for him if he were dealing with pending surgery and life changing events. I’m thankful he is okay with what is going to
go on here in the near future, and I’m so glad we are both on the same page
about not wanting any more children than the two he has. He has supported me at every turn, championed
my education, supported us while I get my doctorate done. He has not allowed other people’s views about
the role a woman should play impact his own views, and he just works so
hard.
Everyone I ran into in the hospital that day told me how
much they love and appreciate my husband, that he is a great guy, and that I am
lucky I have him. I looked directly at each of
them and said, “I know that.”
He goes above and beyond in his working and is always kind, even when he
gets calls at 3:00 in the morning from some computer illiterate individual who
assumes because he or she is working at 3, everyone else it too. He is not obligated, but he does it, because
he has integrity and empathy.
So for this Valentine’s Day, I want to just put my husband
up as the example for what loving someone is all about. His wit and humor sooth me. His kindness and empathy assure me I’m not
alone and that he loves me just as I am.
His practicality and ability to know me well calm me, and his love heals
me.
He is my funny, smart, practical, strong, flawed and
wonderfully unique valentine. I am not a
big fan of Valentine’s Day, but that does not mean I am not glad to have a
valentine.
Edwin McCain is my all time favorite male vocalist. Diane Warren wrote this song with him in mind
for “Message in a Bottle”. It was 1999 when
I heard the words to the song, and I
remember wondering if I would ever find someone I felt that way about. In 2011 I married him.
Babe, you enrich my life. I couldn’t write it better than Diane or sing
it better than Edwin, so here is my “singing card” to you. I so love you.
L
