I had *finally* decided that after 13 years post-divorce I was okay being single for the rest of my life. I went to the movies by myself, concerts by myself — and I enjoyed it. I had my own business, and I was a single mom of two older teenagers. I was too busy for romance. And besides that, I had a history of the best “worst first date” stories that could traumatize the strongest of women!
One day, my secretary’s daughter had to go to the doctor. My secretary’s brother was coming into the office to pick her up. When he got there, she introduced us and we talked a bit. He had just recently had jaw surgery, so we talked about his recovery, etc. I told him that if he ever needed PT for it, to give me a call.
Two weeks later, my secretary says, “My brother is on the phone for you.” I went back into my office, thinking that I would be talking “geek speak” about his surgery. To my surprise, he asked me out. I said yes — reluctantly. When the conversation ended, I remember stomping out of my office, slamming the door and as I walked back down the hall saying, “The LAST thing I need right now is a man in my life.” My secretary looked puzzled. I said, “YOUR BROTHER just asked me out on a date!” — and not in the happiest of tones. She looked a little shocked. Her brother was very shy.
It was the best date I had ever had. Ever. His suggestions were exactly what I would have done if I had planned the date according to what I wanted to do. He is a naval architect, and he and I talked physics — and how it related to our individual professions — with crossovers — all through dinner. He totally got, appreciated and celebrated the fact that I am a geek. And I did the same with him.
I had a history of doing a “post-mortem” with my parents after a first date. I would read them the laundry list of everything that made me cringe, every disgusting quality I found in the man — you name it. Those lists were long. I remember being at their house, grabbing a cup of coffee and meeting them on their patio. They both got the grim look that they always got after I went on a first date and said, “So?” I felt sorry for them. They both looked squeamish.
I looked at them and said, “I know you guys aren’t going to believe this, but I think this is the man that I am supposed to marry.”
Their jaws dropped. I remember my dad saying, “What did you say?” I laughed and said, “I really think this is the man I am supposed to marry.” That was at the end of June 2002.
In October, Dave and I went up to visit my cousin who lives in New Hampshire. We had the vacation of a lifetime just doing everyday things. We hiked in the White Mountains, we went into Boston, we went into Maine and bought HUGE lobsters to bring home to our families. It was fantastic.
A few weeks later, I was really sick with what we thought was the flu. I couldn’t go to my parent’s house for Halloween which was THE tradition. I was so disappointed and I was so sick. Dave came up behind the couch with a blanket, put it around me, then got on one knee and asked, “Would it make you feel any better if I asked you to marry me?” I started crying and said “Yes.” He needed confirmation. He said, “Yes it would make you feel better, or yes you will marry me?” Nodding my head, I said, “Both.”
About a month later, I was shopping with my future mother-in-law. We were on no particular mission. She knew we were engaged, but we hadn’t talked about any date or wedding plans. As she is casually shopping through sweaters she asks, “So when are you and my son going to get married?” with a twinkle in her eye. I said, “Oh, Mom — I don’t know. I want a small wedding and Dave is okay with that, but then he starts talking about *small* it is in the context of something that is going to cost us around $35,000. We can’t seem to get to an agreement about anything.” Dave’s father had dementia, and we all knew that he was getting progressively worse. So this very small woman, with beautiful silver-white hair and sparkling blue eyes looks at me and says, “I know that Joe won’t remember it, but I would just like him to be there when David gets married.” HOW DO YOU DISREGARD THAT?!
A month went by and we had gotten through Christmas. Some things were just not going well at all. I was tired and frustrated and just not okay with my world. Dave called me on a Tuesday and I said, “Do you want to marry me or not?” He said, “Yes I want to marry you.” I said, “Well, then — when do you want to get married?” He said, “I don’t know, how about Friday evening?” I said, “Sounds like a plan.”
With a lot of scrambling on everyone’s part, we were able to pull together a very beautiful wedding at my parents’ house, complete with a wedding cake and all. (The woman at the bakery felt sorry for my mother when she found out she only got two days’ notice). And yes, Dave’s father was there. And no, he didn’t remember it. When we sat down to eat dinner right after the ceremony, he didn’t remember that we had just gotten married. During the dinner, my mother-in-law said, “You did exactly the right thing. Thank you.” Such sweet words from such a sweet woman.
As it ended up, that “flu” I had when Dave proposed was the result of a tick bite I sustained while we were hiking. I had Lyme disease, three other tick-borne diseases as well as Mycoplasma and Mycotoxicosis. Two years later, we were shutting down my clinic, as I was just too sick to continue with it. We had poured buckets of money into it trying to keep it afloat because I was able to work 1/2 days at best — and not every day. That from the person who previously worked 16 hours per day.
During the misdiagnosis phase, I developed a whole host of autoimmune diseases, neurogenic Celiac disease being one of them. Finally, we both knew that I was in trouble. I contacted a neurosurgeon that I shadowed during my affiliation at the Children’s Hospital here. He put all of my brain MRI’s up chronologically and then said that this wasn’t his expertise. He encouraged both of us to go to every single doctor that we could until we found someone who would diagnose it correctly and treat it correctly. Two months later, we found my Lyme doctor.
It wasn’t quite as simple as we thought it was going to be. Treatment was difficult and to top it off? We found out our house had toxic mold. Everywhere. Floor joists to the rafters. We had to abandon the house and everything in it. We had to let the bank take it because we couldn’t afford to tear it down and rebuild, which is what it would have required. When we found another house — newly built — we did a lease to own. We put down a hefty down-payment, and a year later it was tested by a microbiologist from Indiana University. The mold content was 3 times that which would make a “normal, healthy” human being sick. One of the mold strains found was consistent with what develops in drywall that was brought in from China. Abandon again….. Then an apartment. I’ll let you guess…. Yep. So, prior to moving into our apartment we had the microbiologist test it. This was the only complex in Louisville that would allow us to do that. It is mold-free (as compared to the outside environment — that is the criteria). We have been here three years and it is HOME.
Through all of this, Dave has been amazing. He accepts that his wife has disabilities. He knows they are permanent. He keeps me safe when I have an epileptic seizure, takes care of me afterward, then documents it to give to the neurologist when I go for my follow-ups. He can set up a wheelchair faster than anyone I know, and he knows when to disregard my refusal of medical treatment after a bad fall. Ironically though, we are each other’s rocks.
We have been through heartache, loss, and trials that most couples would never go through in a lifetime. And yet we know we are meant to be together. We now have three grandchildren and another on the way, and he is as much “Granddad” to them as if he had been their biological grandfather.
And at the end of every day, we take time together to remember how incredibly fortunate we are, and how incredibly blessed we are. We just got furniture again! Life is very different for us since we have more than just our bed and a television! And we giggle and shake our heads and count our blessings that even 12 years later, when one of us asks the other to marry them, both of us still say “Yes.”
LIFE WITH A GRAIN OF SALT AND A SLICE OF LYME 