My Husband John

Just a quick note before you read this one - it's very direct and contains a few cuss words. It doesn't make me look like the best person on the planet, but I think honesty is important. I may not always be here and I don't want anyone thinking I was a big fake, so you've been warned. :o)


I've been in several serious long-term relationships and have a failed marriage under my belt. This doesn't make me an expert on relationships or marriage, just an expert on making mistakes, haha! I don't like to gush about stuff, especially my relationships, but I feel the need to talk about John - how we met, how we found each other again, and how he's played a HUGE part in saving my life.

I remember the first time I met John. I was 21, a college student, and working as a waitress in a restaurant. A mutual friend introduced us and suggested that we go out. I had just gotten out of a long term relationship with an older man and wanted to date guys my own age. I liked talking to John on the phone, but the timing was just bad, so I decided not to go out with him. Over the next several years, I saw him rarely, and it was a little awkward. I was worried he might not like me much after I'd given him the brush off.

I eventually moved an hour away from home and got married. I was married for about five and a half years, and then it all crumbled. During this time, I signed up for some lit classes to keep my teaching license current (I'm licensed to teach high school English). Guess who my teacher was? John! My first thought was "oh shit I hope he doesn't hold a grudge..." Of course he didn't. He was a kind and dynamic professor, very smart. I found myself developing a HUGE crush on him. Going to his class on Monday nights was such a great escape from my unhappy home. After taking his classes, I was a little depressed that it had to end.

In the months after the classes ended, I kept in touch with John via email. We met for lunch and dinner several times and I felt even closer to him. In my heart, I knew I needed to do the right thing, so I told my then husband that I had made a friend and that I cared for him very much. At this point, our marriage was pretty much over, but I still didn't want to lie to him. About a month after telling my husband, he came to me and said, "you are in love with him" and I couldn't argue. So I moved out. While I never physically committed adultery, I cheated in my heart, and that's probably just as bad. I had to pray a lot. I asked God to forgive me. I know God forgave me, but it took a long time for me to make peace with myself and my ex-husband. We are now on good terms and even occasionally meet for lunch. I care for him and want him to be happy, but I have none of the feelings for him that I have for John - never did. I feel that John is my true soul mate. Sorry, that term is so cliche.

Me and John dated for 3 years before we got married, and the whole time we dated, I was determined to be smart. I've made so many mistakes with guys in the past and I rushed into my first marriage. I wanted to be absolutely sure that John was the one for me, and that I wasn't just infatuated with my professor. One thing I wanted to be sure of was that we deeply cared for each other, no matter what happened.

My mom told me a story many years ago that made a huge impact on me. When her dad was in the hospital dying of a brain tumor, my grandmother was at the hospital every day. She read him the mail, told him town gossip, anything to get him to respond to her. Sadly he did not recover and died a few months before I was born. Nanna met a lot of nice people during this time and she told mom about a couple that she became friends with. The husband had a very serious illness and his wife was with him all the time, giving him encouragement and support. After my grandfather died, my nanna kept in touch with this couple. The husband eventually recovered from his illness and went on to live a long life. However, the wife got sick one day. I'm not sure what her illness was, but she needed a blood transfusion and her husband refused to give her his blood. After all the support she gave him throughout his illness, he basically turned his back on her. Well, she got a blood transfusion from someone, she recovered, and then she left his ass.

The reason I am posting this story, a story I like to call "The Blood Test" is because I use it as a way to gauge peoples' responses. How they respond determines my opinion on whether or not they will stick by me when I go through tough times. I was beyond healthy throughout mine and John's courtship, and frankly, I never thought I'd be sick. So one night, we were just lying in bed talking (yep he stayed the night with me in my apartment several nights a week before me got married, I may as well be honest) and I told him this story. He was appalled. Then he asked, "the guy was a match right??" I told him that he must have been a match because the hospital apparently asked him to give her the blood. So John’s reaction was what I was looking for. He was shocked about the husband refusing and felt bad that someone would not help a person they supposedly loved. I breathed a sigh of relief that he passed my test, and then forgot about it.

We had only been married for two and half years when I got my diagnosis. I know he was shocked and scared. John is thirteen years older than me, so I'm sure he probably thought that he would die first. Honestly, I thought that too. I never dreamed in a thousand years that the tables would be turned. I was everyone's caretaker and the one that everyone came to when something was needed.

I got so scared thinking about being sick and losing my looks because John met me in my "prime." At 21, I was attractive enough, never beautiful, but decent looking. Working at the restaurant gave me a rock hard body and I had the energy of ten people. When we met again, I was 30 and still looked okay. I had gained a little weight, but my body parts were still where they should be. If there was anything about my body that I could say I liked, I would have definitely picked my breasts. The morning of the mastectomy, he was in the bathroom shaving, and I went in to joke with him, to lift both our spirits. It was 4:30 AM, so I guess I was my sense of humor wasn't at its best, but I lifted up my shirt and told him to take one long last look before I got butchered. It just embarrassed him. Guess he wasn't in the mood, haha. After the mastectomy, John was the first one to see my chest - not my choice. I really wanted to look first, but an overzealous nurse came in to change my dressing, and she pretty much just ripped it off right in front of him. He didn't even blink. He was very supportive and understanding when I looked up at him, mortified. His mom went through it twice, and although he never saw her scars, he sort of had an idea of what to expect. My Victoria's Secret bra days were over.

Less than a month later, my leg got so bad that I could barely move without pain. I cried every night over the thought of having to get in the shower because the top of my femur that connected with my hip would "catch" when I tried to move in the shower, and I would almost fall every time. During this time, John stood guard and watched me shower. He dried me off because I couldn't bend. He put my socks on and pulled up my underwear because I could reach them. I had radiation marks all over my thigh and pubic area and I was embarrassed by how it looked. After the first chemo, my hair thinned out, so John helped me shave my head. I went from a healthy, energetic, reasonably attractive woman to a limping, bald, one-breasted mess. John never complained. He cooked, cleaned, did all the shopping, all while working full time. Even through all of this, he still found the time to make jokes, tell me funny stories, and try my wig on to make me laugh. He didn't care that I had neither the ability nor the desire to have sex. When things got even worse and I thought I wouldn't live to see my next birthday, he stepped up even more. He got me some tools for the kitchen to help me make healthy "cancer-fighting" foods and tried all of my crazy recipes. Note: homemade V8 is gross. Just buy it!

John is no saint and he certainly has moments of aggravation. I try to just give him time and space when he needs it, even if it’s just time to sit in the office bedroom to read his blogs or play his computer games. I’m very thankful that we found each other again and we are here for each other. When I pray, I always say a special prayer for him. Caretakers have it rough, and are often overlooked and underappreciated. I also pray that God continue to heal my body so I can be here to return the favor when it’s John’s turn to need care – hopefully that will be when he’s 110!! :o)