This story was so touching not simply because I could feel the love vibrating in your words and the true to life happenings–but also because I too will be celebrating my 27th year of being married to a man I met when I was 17. Two months later I turned 18. My mother died when I was 36 years old. Fortunately my husband was able to meet my maternal grandmother before she died. Unfortunately my father and younger brother had already passed when he came into my life.

Writing this I realize that in less than a decade, Inshallah–God Willing–I will hopefully have been with him longer than I was with my mother.

Isn’t God a blessing.

And like your story reminds us the miracle of God–by whatever name we call Her or Him–is most often standing right in front of us–looking us in the eyes or as you so eloquently describe opening them from a vulnerable place of having undergone a procedure.

Let me say I have been with my husband when he–a surgeon–mind you–underwent a procedure to correct something with his heart.
Although very minor and easily taken care of, it was still scary. He left the hospital within hours after waking up from the 90 minute procedure.

My husband has also had day surgery performed on his sinuses–another very minor procedure. Yet and still both operations required anesthesia. And that my husband performs surgeries on others twice to thee times every week didn’t make it any easier. Nor did it help that I am a trained medical technololgist who worked in hospital blood banks during the outset of our marriage when he was in medical school.

Our knowledge of the medical system–albeit generally good–left us feeling like anyone else who has a family member undergoing a procedure.

We are all human.

That’s the common thread.

And love is what holds us together–something that clearly you and yours possess.

Thank you for this lovely story.