Nov 30, 2014
When I found The Lump that fateful Saturday, you confirmed I wasn't imagining things.
When I came home crying from the doctor, now needing a mammogram and ultrasound, you gave me a hug with one arm and held a beer for me in the other.
When I cried all the way home after the mammogram because I now needed a biopsy, you held my hand as you drove, quietly murmuring words of encouragement.
When I went for my biopsy you were the last person to squeeze my hand as I walked through the clinic doors and the first face I saw when I came out, with a smile and a hug.
When I layed in bed shaking with terror the next few nights, you held me tight till the shaking stopped, often a few hours before getting up for work.
When I got the call to see the doc for the results, you were my rock as we walked into the room to find out my fate.
When the words "...it's not good news" were spoken, your white face reflected the fear in my heart.
When she finished with "...it's breast canser..." I saw your heart break as you cried like it was your own diagnosis.
With every test that followed in the next 4 weeks, it was with you by my side that I faced each - mostly scary - test or procedure.
With each chemo appointment, it was you who celebrated every small victory, comforted me through every dark moment and took care of every detail in between (from paperwork to housework to puke buckets (just incase) to learning to do ponytails in Emmy's hair and beyond...)
You've cooked me - and eaten - everything from chickpeas to smoothies that look like sludge without me even asking.
You sat either with me or waiting for me at the hospital 3 (long) days in a row - always with a smile and a twinkle in your eye.
I worried I'd be repulsive as they removed the bandages after my mastectomy but the first words out of your mouth were "it's slimming!".
In the last seven months we've camped, went to Big Valley Jamboree, completed our first 5k - always together - because of your encouragement and support to not let canser stop us from living.
There have been highs and lows, tears, smiles and always laughter.
But not once have I had to face anything alone.
You are a huge part of my team who has worked tirelessly to save my life, and I will never forget it.
You have taught me what unconditional love is with every word, gesture and act.
So on your 33rd birthday, I wish you a happy birthday, while raising my glass - and my hat - to the person who firmly grabbed my hand in the face of a terrifying tsunami life moment and has never let go.
Quite simply, thank you Luvy. I love you.
Happy Birthday xoxox
When I found The Lump that fateful Saturday, you confirmed I wasn't imagining things.
When I came home crying from the doctor, now needing a mammogram and ultrasound, you gave me a hug with one arm and held a beer for me in the other.
When I cried all the way home after the mammogram because I now needed a biopsy, you held my hand as you drove, quietly murmuring words of encouragement.
When I went for my biopsy you were the last person to squeeze my hand as I walked through the clinic doors and the first face I saw when I came out, with a smile and a hug.
When I got the call to see the doc for the results, you were my rock as we walked into the room to find out my fate.
When the words "...it's not good news" were spoken, your white face reflected the fear in my heart.
When she finished with "...it's breast canser..." I saw your heart break as you cried like it was your own diagnosis.
With every test that followed in the next 4 weeks, it was with you by my side that I faced each - mostly scary - test or procedure.
With each chemo appointment, it was you who celebrated every small victory, comforted me through every dark moment and took care of every detail in between (from paperwork to housework to puke buckets (just incase) to learning to do ponytails in Emmy's hair and beyond...)
You sat either with me or waiting for me at the hospital 3 (long) days in a row - always with a smile and a twinkle in your eye.
I worried I'd be repulsive as they removed the bandages after my mastectomy but the first words out of your mouth were "it's slimming!".
In the last seven months we've camped, went to Big Valley Jamboree, completed our first 5k - always together - because of your encouragement and support to not let canser stop us from living.
There have been highs and lows, tears, smiles and always laughter.
But not once have I had to face anything alone.
You are a huge part of my team who has worked tirelessly to save my life, and I will never forget it.
You have taught me what unconditional love is with every word, gesture and act.
So on your 33rd birthday, I wish you a happy birthday, while raising my glass - and my hat - to the person who firmly grabbed my hand in the face of a terrifying tsunami life moment and has never let go.
Quite simply, thank you Luvy. I love you.
Happy Birthday xoxox
I'm going to love you through it - Martina McBride (you tube)
What a beautiful tribute to a beautiful man. You're both so lucky to have each other.
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