I am not the life of the party typically. I am the girl who makes a quiet witty comment in the corner at the party. In the beginning our differences drew us together, and these differences have continued to serve us well through the years. He appreciates my unusual sense of humor, and I very much appreciate the fact that he can help me take myself less seriously. But I still often forget how positively fabulous he is. It is nice to be reminded. It is nice to see my husband through someone else's eyes and to remember why he stole my heart in the beginning.
Today's love story, like so many others, was inspired by a colonoscopy. The word itself conjures up amorous feelings, doesn't it? George had to have one of those this week. (To confirm, the procedure was routine and everything apparently looked "perfect up in there".) George seems to have an easier time than the rest of us when it comes to nearly everything. Sometimes it's a little annoying, but mostly it is admirable. He had been warned that the preparation for the procedure would be hellish, but he was not terribly concerned.
After fasting for 18 hours, he spent a couple more hours working on rebuilding our deck. I'm pretty sure I even heard him whistling while he was out there. Then he came inside and drank copious amounts of laxative-enriched Gatorade. And then he waited. I went upstairs and busied myself with reading bedtime stories and getting our three darling children into bed. I may have lingered upstairs for a bit while I facebooked your mom. Assuming the results of the Gatorade cocktail might be unpleasant and embarrassing, I was trying to give the man some space.
I returned to our bedroom an hour or so later and found George tucked up in bed watching a foreign language zombie movie (his guilty pleasure). I hesitantly asked if he was okay and he replied casually that he indeed was, and that it was really no big deal. After three or four trips to the bathroom, he was basically done and had happily moved on with the rest of his zombie-tastic evening.
The next morning, his fast continued, and he carried on with his usual workday responsibilities until noon. We were all set to climb into the car and go to the medical center when he stopped me and asked urgently, "Wait!! Can you write something on my butt?"
"Why?" I wanted to know.
"Because it will be funny." He answered.
And this is why our marriage works... "Okay," I responded, "What do you want me to write?" We had to go upstairs since the only color Sharpie we had downstairs was hot pink. Obviously that wouldn't do, you know. So we raced upstairs and found a permanent marker in a manly shade of blue. George dropped his trousers and thought for a moment. "Could you write... 'Be Gentle.'?"
I quickly got to work; then interrupted my writing to ask, "Shall I write one word on each cheek?"
"I think so." George answered thoughtfully.
And then we were off. He checked in with the receptionist and was taken back to be prepped for his procedure shortly after that. Lili and I took a quick field trip to McDonald's for oatmeal and vanilla milkshakes, as you do when a loved one is being probed. An hour or so later Lili and I were allowed to go back and see George, who was in high spirits as usual. And now we have arrived at the part of the story in which I explain why my husband's colonoscopy reminded me of why he is so great...
Anyone who had come in contact with my husband seemed to have developed a sincere affection for him. He knew all of their names and had even been invited to their staff party next weekend. Seriously. Apparently right up until the moment he lost consciousness due to the anesthesia, he had the entire room in stitches laughing. From what I could gather, my handwritten greeting was also well-received. I sat in a chair by his bedside and just watched as various medical personnel fawned over my husband, and I remembered how I had felt when I first met him. I admit that I did feel quite amorous in those post-colonoscopy moments. The head nurse made a point in telling me he was the best patient they'd had all week.
George got himself dressed, and high-fived the orderly on the way out. "Keep it real, Andre." he said. (Okay, fine. That last part didn't happen, but if John Hughes ever decided to make a movie about my husband's colonoscopy, that's totally the way it would go.) I drove him home and made an excellent post-colonoscopy dinner for him since that is my way of saying, "You rock!" But since I've been writing this, I realized that I still haven't used my words like a big girl to simply tell him that I think he's a little bit special. I think I will go and do that now.
Good night, friends.
Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference. ~Winston Churchill
1 comment:
This post is so sweet! I have an overwhelming urge to want to hang out with George now. :-)
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