41

I wish I could claim that as my age, I really do.  However, that would be a big fat lie.  Nope, not my age at all.  It is, in fact, my 41st wedding anniversary.  And how that happened so very quickly--I do not know.

I am amazed and intrigued at the very same time.  I am amazed at how quickly the years pass by for one and intrigued by the very idea that I could love someone so much as to stay with them for over 4 decades is another.

At first, I thought I would be pithy and make a list of 41 reasons why I love my husband. I threw out that idea.  And then I thought about writing him an open love letter--too gushy.  So I was stumped.  What, oh what, do I say about this monumental task that we've both achieved?

Maybe that's it.  Achievement.  Because that's exactly what it is.  Especially in this day and age.  With divorce being the norm, and the advent of the starter wife/husband--to be married for 41 years is almost unheard of.

I honestly feel that I (we) have done something monumental.  I (we) have stayed married.  Not that it was hard--ok sometimes it was.  I stayed married because I made a commitment.  I promised him on our wedding day that I would stick it through--think, thin, sick or whatever, I'd be around for the long haul.  And I have.  But, so has he.  Through child rearing, college going, empty nesting and all around menopausal Molly moods, he has stuck by my side--through it all.  There's something to be said about that.

So without getting too mushy, and without sounding too puffed up, I'd just like to end this little blog with this--I am proud and I do get mushy (real mushy) when I think about my life over the past 41 years.  I can't imagine any other life.  It's been awesome, wonderful, fun, exciting and any other descriptive gushy adjective you can think of--yes, I've got it all.  I'm happy, I'm content.  I never think to myself--what if?  Why?  Because I know.  I know with all my being that 41 years ago, I made the right choice.  I married the one true love of my life.  And I am glad I did.  Yes, that my friends, is an accomplishment.  It truly is.

Remembering December

It happened again.  Several days before Christmas while minding my own business, sitting comfortably in my chair at the nail salon, it happened again.  I passed out.

I'll start at the beginning.  I thought I had a cold, and for 2 days I suffered from all the normal cold maladies.  I even went on the internet to compare cold and flu symptoms.  And it confirmed--it's just a cold.

I had felt really lousy that morning while getting ready.  I was going through the motions of makeup and hair, and then finally drove myself over to the nail salon.  Christmas was just around the corner.  We were to be heading off to DC to spend the holiday with my kids and grandkids.  I had shopped and wrapped, decorated and baked--it had been a normal first half of the month.  Little parties and get-togethers, with just a couple, left on the calendar before taking off.  Now, if I could just get rid of the stupid cold I had been fighting.

I admit right here and now that I am a fru-fru girl.  A girly girl.  I like to have my hair done monthly and my nails done every 2 weeks.  That's just me.  So, to stay home and cancel my nail appointment right before Christmas (even though I felt sick) would never have even entered my mind.  No, nails were in the forefront of my little brain.  Fortunately, I had made it through the pedicure and was just finishing up with the manicure part when I began to feel funny.  And by funny I mean--light headed, with a little tunnel vision thrown in.  I remember thinking--I need to get out of here.  And that was my last thought.

The next thing I knew my manicurist was patting my hands and arms trying to wake me up.  She had called 911 and was trying to revive me.  She then called my husband who came racing over, and he arrived at the same time the ambulance pulled up.  I couldn't believe what was happening--not again!  At least I had stayed in the chair, and I didn't hit my head and split it open.  I'm always thinking of the positive.

I was unable to fully regain consciousness so I was hauled into the ambulance and away I went.  Again!  I knew the ropes by then--in the ER they would pump me full of fluids and send me home.  Only that's not what happened.  This time they admitted me and ran more test--and EKG and Echocardiogram were done.  They found that I was severely dehydrated, low on potassium and magnesium, oh, and yes, I tested positive for the flu.  Stupid internet.

I was seen by a cardiologist who wanted to run even more tests.  Ugg, this was really cutting into my plans--that's really all I could think about.  However, within a couple of days, I was back home.  I was feeling better and on my way to my family.  And although I was tired, still recovering from the flu and very low energy, we all had a great time.  I'm wondering if my kids were secretly relieved that I wasn't up to my full energetic potential.  I think I sometimes I run them ragged.

After the holidays were over I had more doctor appointments.  More tests were run and I found out the left side of my heart isn't pumping quiet enough blood, so I was given a low dose med to help that along.  It seems that with the vasovagal syncope my blood pressure would drop too low and coupled with the heart thing--well, it was lights out for me.  Hopefully, now things will regulate within my system and all will be well.

So for now, I will obey doctor's orders, eat heart healthy, exercise and look forward to an ambulance free year.

That was my December and I will remember it fondly and choose to forget the yucky parts.  Because that's just what I do.