husband

Willey

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This man. He is a dream come true. He flew with me from Arizona to Georgia. Packed up my mom’s belongings and loaded them on to the U-Haul. He drove for four days until we got home and get this: There was no cruise control in the truck!

And then he unloaded the truck and put the boxes in our garage. He returned it.

He’s nice to mom. He jokes with her, makes her feel welcome, and cheers her up when she’s sad about dad’s passing in July.

Today, he vacuumed and washed her car.

He is a generous spirit – with all of his family and friends. They know he would do anything for them. He is love personified.

Haul-lelujah

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“I’m looking forward to our long drive from Georgia,” my husband says.

We will be driving from Lawrenceville, GA to Mesa, AZ (over 1,800 miles) to move my mother’s things from her old house to ours. After dad passed away in July, mom has been uprooted mentally, spiritually and physically.

But whose partner says they are looking forward to driving all day for several days? Mine. I’m fortunate to have a supportive partner who not only steps up but embraces this “adventure.” He’s excited to box things up, rent the equipment, tow mom’s car at the back of the truck and drive all the way back home for 27 hours. Thank you, William. I am grateful.

Balderdash!

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My husband is handsome, funny, caring and intelligent.

But he finds spelling a challenge.

He will spell aloud to me, seeking approval: “Wizard. W-i-z-z…”

“No, it has one z.”

“ONE z?! Why? Why? Why one z? Why? Isn’t that ‘Wyzard’ then?”

I laugh. “The English language is…complicated…you might even say dumb.”

“My name – Willey – it has two ls because you say WILLey, not Wyley…”

 

 

 

Bless This Union

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Photo by Jeremy Wong-Unsplash

This is the very best article I have ever read on marriage. It’s by Byron Katie.

If you are ready, reading this will feel like sitting in the light of truth.

It will feel like bathing in authenticity.

If you’re ready, reading this article can change all of your relationships – for the better.

My favorite line:

There’s no way to truly join your partner except by getting free of your belief that you need something from him that he’s not giving. 

I was raised on conditions. I had to prove my worth in order to be loved. And I grew up and did the same to those I loved. I think this is the root of many dysfunctional relationships.

 

 

Appetite

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My husband of twenty-one years decided to lose weight. At 6′, he was at his all-time high of 220 lbs. The impetus for change? He saw a picture of himself that a friend took and didn’t like what he saw.

There are several ways to slim down: cut calories, increase physical activity (exercise!) or both. Hubby is choosing to cut calories.  Through research, he’s discovered that in order to reach his target weight of 180 lbs, he cannot go over 2,000 calories.

2,000 calories to a man who has eaten anything he wanted whenever he wanted is a drastic change.

In the past two months, he has stuck to this limit most of the time. He’s now down to 204 lbs. and finds the sacrifice worth it.

As with most things in life, what you do consistently will yield results: both good and not so good. When he chooses to eat a big slice of cake or ice cream, he foregoes dinner.

Doing the right thing is most painful when we think of our appetites in terms of what we are sacrificing, but we usually succeed when we focus on what we “gain.”

Blister in the Sun

Hubby is singing “Blister in the Sun” and now I can’t get it out of my head. That is what he does lately: sing songs,  fill my head with repetitive, nonsensical lyrics and then leave the room. 

I haven’t written in several months. Now that I am publishing my “blah”g, I’m sure you’re expecting BIG news. Something grandiose in a bad or good way. I am sorry to disappoint. I’ve just been busy with life: completed my MA coursework (yay!), completed my 8 hour state exam (yay!) and recovered completely from breast reconstruction (double yay!)  Pardon the pun.

Here is the health update: I’m taking Tamoxifen daily. The hot flashes and back aches have mercifully subsided. I’ve completed my surgeries and have my permanent chest (for the next 15 years anyway, I’m told that implants need to be changed out every 10-20 years). I went from an “A” to a “C.” It’s both great and not so great.

Great: in bathing suits, bras, clothes.

Not so great: sleeping. I wish I could take them off and hang them up for the night! Also, running is easier when you are flat-chested.

In two weeks, I will go back to my oncologist for some kind of test. I should know what kind of test, but I don’t. I called them to ask, but they put me in hold limbo forever, so I just hung up. I have a list of questions at the ready, though.

Weird things happen during recovery, such as the sharp electrical shocks I feel as my nerves come back to life. Also, the dull throbbing pain from the muscles stretching to accommodate the implants.

I went to a kid birthday party a couple months ago. My “friends” had not seen me since my diagnosis. They greeted me with, “You have all your hair!” and “You look great!” If there is anything I can do with my experience, it is to spread awareness of the importance of going to your doctor for all your checkups.  There is a controversy brewing right now. Some health officials seem to think women don’t need a mammogram until 50! I shudder to think how far advanced my cancer would have been if I had waited eight years.  There is a very good article on this issue right here.

I want to help dispel the awful perception that cancer is a death sentence, or that once you’re diagnosed, you are forever “sick.” It’s simply not true. Just take care of it as early as possible.

 

When I’m a walking, I strut my stuff.