Wednesday, April 13, 2011

More Love

     Sometimes, I wonder why it has to be this way for my husband and I. I know that everyone has had the same thought about something or other at some point in their lives, about problems small and large, manageable and unmanageable. I've thought about how lovely it would've been to just be newlyweds, with our whole lives stretched out in front of us, all soft-focus and warm colors.

     I don't mean to say that we don't have our lives stretched out in front of us, just that the focus is usually hard and sharp and the warm colors are mixed with quite a few shades of ugly. For us, it's more like we get moments of perfect and then we're yanked back into the ugly when he has a head rush and it's off to the ER.

     Again, I don't mean to sound like we live a horrible life, always under the cloud of his illness and only seeing the sunlight when we can pull ourselves from our miserable existence long enough to catch a glimpse of it. Um, no, not the case at all. Most times, we're disgustingly happy in our little house in the 'burbs, being hermits together and playing World of Warcraft on our side-by-side computers. (Yeah, that's right - NERDS IN LOVE FTW!) The point I want to make clear is one I've made before - with things like Marfan's and related disorders, every day is just a little harder than it should be.

      The vast majority of the time, I don't even think about the extra weight and neither does my husband. For him, it's been his life so long that it's a non-thought most times. For me, it's the knowledge that if there's no extra weight to my days, that would mean there's no him. No him is just not an option, so there you have it. I would be lying if I said that melancholy didn't win every once in awhile, though. It usually hits us at different times, so it's one or the other lying awake at night while the fears run rampant. I know that when it pays me a visit, I wish like hell for a switch to just turn it off. I can't rest because of the continuous whatarewegoingtodowhatarewegoingtodo that doesn't quit.

     Today, though, it dawned on me that I don't need to be afraid anymore. For whatever reason, while I've always known, in a back-of-my-mind sort of way, that we have people to lean on if we need to, that thought has never made its way to the forefront of my brain. Now though, it's so damn clear that my husband and I will never be left alone to cope with this, because it simply can't happen. There's just too much love and support from every corner of our lives for that to be a possbility.

     I'm going to take a moment here to be sappy and sentimental, which those of you who know me know is a phenomenon that occurs about as regularly as lunar landings. Actually, it's borderline creepy when I'm sappy and it tends to freak people out, but I'm doing it anyway. What got me thinking about all this love was a kind word from a co-worker this morning, who stopped to tell me that she thought I was doing a great job with this blog.

     This was after an e-mail from a cousin, who just wanted to check in and let me know she loved us and was thinking of me and my husband. It was after a friend of my husband's, whom I've not yet had the pleasure of meeting, left me a lovely comment on the Book of Faces sending his love to us as well. Could I ask for more?

     The best part, though, is that there IS more! My parents, his parents - both have started reading this and have said how proud they are. His sister has expressed, many times, how glad she is that we found each other and that I'm doing this for both of us. My husband's best friend back in North Carolina? He reads what I write and has told my husband that he supports what I'm doing, too.

      All of this and more, so much more from the incredible people in our lives, that's why I think I'll be able to sleep at night now. I know, without a doubt, that my husband and I won't fail, we won't falter or be left alone to find our way. The Marfan's isn't going to get the best of us, because it can't. There's just no way the disorder and all its prickly, nasty little tendrils are going to have a snowball's chance in hell of competing against all that love and support.

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