When you marry someone you take a vow of commitment. Financially. Emotionally. Physically. All will present you with opportunities to feel nuts. And grow.
But let's face it. The hardest things about marriage can be the nitty gritty, day to day, lifestyle and family differences you face. After all, you're only taking two completely separate people, from two equally weird families, and trying to meld them into a cohesive unit!!
I make lasagna with fresh parm and mozzarella. Wil grew up using American cheese. I believe the movie 8 mile needs to be alphabetized before "A", he thinks it should go in the "E" section. He likes mayo. I grew up on Miracle Whip.
And then there are those handy meals between bread. I say they are sandwiches. Which Wil likes to be silly and call them sammiches.
Tomato, tomatoe. Right?
Side note: Speaking of tomatoes, the first time Wil cooked for me, while we were dating, he made spaghetti marinara. With green koolaid. Upon the first bite, he asked how it tasted. I told him it was sweet, different than I was used to...almost like ketchup (I'm a huge ketchup lover, so this was not a deal breaker!). To which he replied, "it is ketchup." Mouth. Open. I had never had spaghetti noodles covered with ketchup. But in Wil's world view, as I would learn, tomato products exist on a continuum. All interchangeable.
Yesterday we received the results of Wil's bladder tumor biopsy. We had a great 2 weeks while we waited. Seriously great. I may have lost some sleep the last few days, and we both felt nauseated on our drive to Dallas, but overall we were ok. We made it.
We were prepared either way. Peppered with joy for the extra chances we've already had and joyful...even though we know more possible cancer is a constant reality.
This blip gave us more chances to talk about the future. About day to day goals. We organized the pantry and did meal planning as a team effort (Wil is quite the house husband these days!). We saw an animated movie. Hung out. Ate more eggs and toast and had coffee. Lived our life. I'm so proud of the "emotional space" progress we've made for ALL of the realities.
So many life annoyances just aren't so important anymore when you carry with you the miracle that he's alive. And Wil 2.0 is on fire. He's a new man.
But even in our OK-ness, we made sure to plan our day strategically yesterday. Lunch with family before the results and a visit to a friend afterwards. The reality of the realities...I'd be crushed (for a while) if it were bladder cancer. I'm human.
We may never agree on condiments or ingredients on an actual sandwich/sammich, but this we do agree on: life is undoubtedly a series of struggles, so plan to cushion the inevitable pains with the goodness you can grasp...and hold on. Take a bite. Chew well before swallowing. Cancer or not, you'll constantly face heartaches, if you are lucky enough to be living. Don't be surprised. Pack a lunch for your hard stuff.
And so we had lunch with little ones we love. And knew that no matter what the results of the biopsy, we'd be surrounded with support at our friend's house after. Making the in-between, the whatever-it would-be, merely a middle ingredient to the day, to our life.
On the way to the appointment yesterday (which Wil drove to in rush hour!) we talked about how this layering of goodness has actually been what saved us all along the way. Gosh...We've had to really look for it sometimes though. Reframe. Travel the darkness. But it always showed up. And kept us held together. For every time we felt "how the eff are we gonna handle this?" we somehow found a way to make it a middle and not an end. Even if that meant scheduling a walk before chemo and an ice cream and TV time after. It wasn't usually big stuff. Just constant. Sometimes you even get an extra surprise when the middle is pleasant.
And the middle just happened to be sunshine this time around.
The tumor was benign.
He'll have a routine urology follow up in a few months. A few more weeks of healing. But he's ok.
We are less than 2 months from the his stem cell anniversary. We've passed the anniversary he admitted last year.
Next week would have been year 1 since the first transplant. We are still slowly decreasing his Prograf. Goodness.
Our life is transforming daily. But isn't yours? Courage isn't about not being afraid. It's finding the resolve to seek goodness anyway, to sandwich up your heartaches, and deliberately savoring all the collective elements as equal parts of this life's sustenance plan.
Much love.
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