Lost in Translation (D+107) (M+25y)

Tomorrow (Monday) Jan and I drive up for regularly scheduled testing: pulmonary function test, bone marrow biopsy, and the usual bloodwork.

Assuming all is well, and I do, the next milestone is D+120, when I start going off the drug that suppresses my immune system.

This past Tuesday was our 25th anniversary. When it comes to "in sickness and in health," Jan has kindly left the physical "in sickness" part to me and reserved the supportive spouse role for herself. It works for us.

I didn't get Jan flowers on our anniversary. One restriction imposed on a patient with a suppressed immune system is no cut flowers. The flowers themselves aren't that bad, but the water they sit in is a breeding ground for mold, and mold is bad. For Mother's Day, we went with potted lilies that we kept on the patio and later planted, but it's not quite the same.

Clever boy that I am, I took advantage of Jan's first business trip since my diagnosis. (I'm not counting the one she was on, outside Las Vegas, on the day I was diagnosed. The conversation that night started like this: "Are you sitting down? No, really. You have to be sitting down.")

After arranging for a lineup of friends to be on call for 24-hour shifts in case of emergency, Jan and her magazine business partner Rich drove to Duluth for the Grandma's Marathon, an annual four-day trek for Jan.

Although we can't have flowers at home, there's no reason Jan can't have flowers at her hotel room. So I called a local florist and arranged to have flowers delivered. The florist was very helpful, working with me to make adjustments to the bouquet when they did not have the white lilies I wanted to go with the roses.

I had worked out a short poem during my morning outing. I was very pleased with myself.

    It's clear I am the smarter of us two
    'Cause you married me, and I married you

When I talked to Jan that evening, she didn't mention the flowers. I called the hotel and confirmed that they had been delivered, so they must have arrived after Jan checked in but before she returned from dinner. The next morning, I saw I had a text from her from later the previous night, loving the flowers.

When Jan got home today, after being home for a few hours, she somewhat sheepishly came over with the card that came with the flowers. She said she had been trying to figure out what it meant, but she really couldn't. The card read:

    It's clear I am the martyr of us two
    'Cause you married me, and I married you

Good grief! It's the perfect sentiment for the Dysfunctional Marriage Anniversary section of the card rack, right next to "25? It feels like 50!"

Well, here's to another 25 years of martyrdom, sweetie! So far, so good.

P.S. No need to bring the "in sickness" account into balance.