It's the eve of probably the least happy of all of my husband's birthday's thus far...he has the pleasure of turning 37 while he attends an all-day breast cancer clinic at the University of Michigan. I know I haven't been the best wife in the world so far, but this is really taking things to a new low. This totally eclipses the whining, complaining, nagging, pestering, pushing that I have done to the poor man for over 15 years now.
I really don't know what I did to deserve such a stalwart companion for all of these years. He's been the one, since pretty much the first day we clasped on to each other, to support me, encourage me, listen to me - through every hard time or joyous exultation that I/we've had so far. Through ups and downs and all of the emotional tumult that accompanies me throughout my life (I'm like Pigpen, except instead of the dirt cloud, it is an emotional cloud of both good and bad emotions, and I'm sure Bill would attest to that), he's never wavered from his commitment to me, even though my whole life I've been wavering from something. After all these years, it still astonishes me.
Bill, I've never been able to really give you much of anything in the material sense, except permission for you to buy whatever crazy thing you have felt like buying (see post indicating latest 60 inch tv). I'm not terrifically good at showing you the steadiness of my devotion to you, as you are to me (see above, emotional cloud that is always blowing us both about in good and not good ways). I do love you so much, though, and more than anything, I wish I could change this whole cancer diagnosis not for me, not as much for the kids (though it will totally affect them, I know from experience that kids can persevere, and we have such a good support system for them), but for you. I know it is so terrible for you, I know how sensitive you are, and I can tell how hard you are trying to figure this whole thing out so that we can make it through. I'm so sad that you have to spend your birthday tomorrow hearing more bad news about my stupid body which is just not performing like it was supposed to. You don't deserve that, at all, especially good, strong, faithful, extra-loving you.
I can promise though, that I will fight this so hard. And maybe all of the things about me that make me so hard to live with (how stubborn I am, how suddenly I am all on fire with excitement about something crazy and new and nothing will turn me away, how hard I like to work at things until it drives you almost insane) will maybe show themselves to be qualities that will get us all through. I guess that promise is probably the best we can do this birthday...that promise and the hope that we'll have so many more birthdays in the future. I promise I'll keep that hope going, even if I'm crying or morose like I can get sometimes. You can count on that. And maybe a delicious cake.
So here's hoping for better birthdays for my husband (and some interesting and useful information at my appointments tomorrow)...