Chapter 7: My Favorite Person
A pivotal character is given her due. A love story emerges.
The day before my infamous exam with the neuromuscular specialist, my wife, Jamie, broke down. I hadn’t seen this from her before. The cry ratio in our relationship is 20:1 in my favor. I’m the sensitive one. She’s the juggernaut. But on that day, she let me be the rock. And for that, I love her more than she knows.
My wife, Jamie, and I had one last getaway, just the two of us, before the arrival of baby number two. Captiva Island, Florida.
I was scared too, but there’s something about being the “comforter” that gives you instant courage and conviction. As if the “comforted” can somehow sense your inauthenticity, you have to REALLY BELIEVE what you are saying. And so she got me through that brutal day of anticipation, by affording me that opportunity. The opportunity to insist that tomorrow was not going to be the beginning of the end for our dreams, rather, it would be “our finest hour.” But I was made a liar.
Before we went to bed that night she had the audacity to apologize for her moment of “weakness,” and assured me that she was just getting it out of her system. “I’m going to be strong for you tomorrow.”
When the next day came... well, you know how this part goes. But what I haven’t spoke to yet is how Jamie was most definitely “strong for me” in that moment following the diagnosis. While I sat staring at the exam room floor in a state of shock, Jamie continued to ask questions and listen to our (albeit few) treatment options, follow up tests, and next steps. Somehow she was prepared enough to know that we would need to take notes, which she did and in great detail.
I had resigned myself to a death sentence. Jamie’s instinct, however, was to fight this.
The following 48 hours was the hardest and most raw time period in our lives. We both took turns falling to pieces and picking each other back up. I was thinking crazy yet somehow practical thoughts like “who was going to be my daughters’ new pseudo father? Let’s get that guy lined up.” And “do my parents need to move in with us now?” Both equally horrible scenarios to imagine. (That last part is supposed to be an attempt at morbid humor. But I’m worried my mom and dad will miss the subtlety).
It’s almost unbearable for me to recall that whole period, but again, it was Jamie who was the determined one. And at the end of a long second day post-diagnosis, my incredible wife had a vision of us and it was inspiring to say the least.
She saw us at the front lines of a war. A war that two days ago we never even knew existed. She saw us being leaders and motivating other newly diagnosed soldiers. She saw us living long lives with our two daughters and growing old together. She saw us living out a new dream, even greater than the one we had originally imagined.
Picture from the top of the Power & Light Building on our wedding day. Back when the world was our oyster.
And then I started to believe. "Could that really be? Wouldn’t that be a great story!?”
In the following months Jamie continued to work, take care of Iris, travel with me to clinics, research supplements, locate drug trials and pick me up when I was feeling sorry for myself. She took on the heavy lifting in our lives so that I could live.
I had been so focused on beating this disease and saying what needs to be said to those I love, that the person I love the most had been left to focus on everyone but herself.
I hate that about this part of the story.
But it’s an important chapter because there would be zero chapters to read if it wasn’t for her optimism and hopeful attitude.
I appreciate all the encouraging comments to my writings, I really do. I’m actually quite proud of how I’ve handled this so far too. I just had to set the record straight, on her birthday of all days. Because it wasn’t enough to just tell my wife, I needed to let you know too… that I’m the fighter you see before you BECAUSE of her.
And for that, I love her more than she knows.
Happy birthday baby!