Despite being our second week of marriage, the last several days have been quite heavy on the heart. On Monday we found out that I will not be able to avoid surgery on my foot. On October 5th, they will take part of the bone in my heel and move it to another place in my foot. There, they will also put a plate and screws. I will be in a cast with crutches for 8 weeks. Then I will spend another 8 weeks or so in a boot - again. And then we'll have PT. We're hoping I'll be able to drive by my birthday. In February. Preparing for surgery is by far nothing new to me, but to have to jump right into the "in sickness and in health" vow is very bothersome.
On Wednesday, after having a day or so to let it all soak in, I had to call and quit my second job. Yes, there were a few Saturday mornings where I really didn't care about lotion and all things girlie, I just wanted to stay home with my honey and my doggie, but for the most part, I really, really enjoyed my part-time gig at BBW. I started the job thinking it would last a few months, until we got into the new house, but I worked there for 2 1/2 years. I wouldn't have quit except that I've already been off for 8 weeks, and I'll need to be off for another 20. Minimum. I really did like going there. I love girlie stuff. And smelly stuff. And things that make my skin feel good. And I love good sales. And there are several people there I genuinely truly enjoyed spending time with. And getting paid for it didn't hurt.
Today, we started the paperwork to file the insurance claim to cancel the honeymoon. This - this - is breaking my heart.
Now, I have been told we should be about our marriage, not our honeymoon, and believe me, we are. And we know my prognosis could have been a lot, lot worse. We are not strangers to freak accidents, and we know my injuries could have been ones that last our lifetimes, not just our first year of marriage. I also know that I am grateful beyond words. I know Gary will be here to take care of me for another 20 weeks or another 20 after that. He's been doing it for years.
One Christmas Eve he sent me home from work when I was flu-ish and running a fever of 102 - and he got my shift covered on Christmas day. Let that sink in. I was sick as a dog and he got my shift covered - on Christmas day. After my last oophorectomy in 2003, one afternoon I woke up from a morphine-induced nap and he was standing by my bedside. When I dropped a butcher block on my toenail he picked me up from the emergency room. He stuck by me for years while I struggled to get my hormones to a tolerable level. My husband has been with me, in sickness and in health, for as long as I have known him. And I have no doubt in the next 20 weeks he won't bitch (much) when he has to do all of the laundry, the grocery shopping, walk the dog, carry me, and carry us. I know I am married to the most amazing man I've ever met, and that I am the luckiest girl in the world. And for that I am truly grateful. But that doesn't mean I'm not sad.
We planned our honeymoon for months. We weighed so many options. Where did we want to go? What did we want out of a post-wedding vacation? Well, here's what we wanted: I wanted a beach. We both wanted golf. We wanted all-inclusive. We wanted free adult beverages and delightful meals. I wanted couples massages. We wanted to climb waterfalls and zoom down ziplines in the jungle. We wanted 24-hour room service so we could order warm chocolate chip cookies and ice cold milk at 2:00 in the morning, just like at Kingsmill. We wanted to go away alone and we vowed to leave our work phones at home. We wanted time together - away from everything else. Finally.
And today, we cancelled our honeymoon.
We planned, prepared and packed for it for 13 months. I have a place in the closet where we've put everything we didn't want to forget. Sunscreen. Aqua socks. Bathing suits. A small brown purse with killer heels that match. I've dreamed about this fairytale vacation with him for as long as I can remember. We had a one bedroom honeymoon oceanview villa with a private pool. And someone to bring us chocolate chip cookies or tequila whenever we wanted it.
And instead, I'm typing this, sitting on our couch. The same one we've sat on or snuggled on or sometimes slept on for years. The same couch where I'll be spending the time I had taken off for our honeymoon. Where instead I'll be crashing or crying in a few weeks, with a cast on my leg, new hardware in my foot, and the most amazing husband ever by my side.