In Sickness and In Health — Writing My World

On that hot August day in 1973, I do not specifically recall saying “in sickness and in health.” John might recall his vows more vividly than I do. There were certainly more opportunities for him to practice what he promised on our wedding day. During our years together, John nursed me through two pregnancies and deliveries; a ruptured appendix and subsequent surgery; thyroid cancer; three other minor surgeries; and one life threatening case of bacterial meningitis. Through them all he was strong, comforting, and amazingly patient. I rarely needed to practice my “nursing” skills, because apparently I married a very healthy guy. That is until this past week when John had surgery to repair not one but two hernias.

Of course, having any kind of surgery in the midst of a viral surge makes it all the more nerve racking. We both isolated ourselves from family and friends for weeks before the surgery. The isolation left me feeling not only lonely but anxious. I desperately needed the company of my close friends who would listen to my worries and surely calm my nerves. It is easy to remain positive and upbeat when you can vent all those worrisome thoughts to someone other than the patient. Perhaps that is why I arrived at the surgical center early that morning a bit on edge. Of course, being stuck in a waiting room with several unmasked children only added to my stress. When John was finally called to pre-op, I found another less crowded spot to read, but mostly I just fretted. When the surgeon finally called to say all went well, I was able to see John. He was under the solicitous care of a kind nurse. When it was time to get him dressed, the nurse gave us our post-op instructions, and patiently answered John’s somewhat befuddled questions. She then wheeled him to the car and gently buckled him in.

On the way home, I called our son, Daniel, to ask if he could meet us at the house. I feared John was still too wobbly to make it from the car to the house unassisted. I would not be able to catch him should he falter, but our tall son was easily up to the task. Daniel was standing in the driveway as I pulled up. I hoped he would help John get out of the car, but instead he just stood close by as John got out under his own steam. I watched Daniel walk with his father, not assisting but just there. It was then that I realized Daniel’s hands-off approach was honoring his Father’s independence and dignity, but he stayed close easing my fears of a fall. That same night, we enjoyed a a delicious meal prepared by our daughter Jenny and husband Matt. In fact, we feasted on Matt’s homemade soup, Jenny’s freshly baked bread, and her oh-so-delicious chocolate chip cookies for days afterwards.

The next few days were tough for John. Watching his face creased in pain each time he tried to get up or down was heart wrenching for me. Then, an allergic reaction to pain meds only made things worse. Yet, a patient nurse practitioner, our pharmacist, and my daughter’s remembrance of her own horrible reaction to a similar narcotic medication helped us sort out the source of his discomfort. John turned a corner on day four and once again the marital scales tipped away from sickness and are now leaning towards “health.”

As I look back on the week, I am reminded that no marriage can be successful in isolation. Like a house, it needs all sorts of experts and helping hands to keep it in good repair. Those who dwell in a house or a marriage cannot go it alone. A marriage needs daughters who make sure you have food to eat when you cannot cook. Sons who drop everything to help out at moment’s notice. Friends and family who call or text daily to check on us. Perhaps this is why so many couples celebrate and begin their union surrounded by the very people who will support them from that day forward.

I was just 22 years old when I promised to be with John “in sickness and in health.” I am sure I thought our love would be enough to get us through tough times. I did not envision the army of support it would take to keep us together for the next 48 years… our parents, our children, siblings, friends, pastors, therapists, and even kind nurses. Perhaps that is why marriage is a sacrament…an outward sign of God’s grace. A grace that shines through each of us as we care for each other in sickness and in health.