In Sickness and In Health

Four years ago today, Will and I sealed the deal and got married at Stanford Memorial Church. We had just graduated from Stanford (I snagged my J.D. and Will collected a Masters in Computer Science), had sweet jobs and a lovely apartment in L.A. lined up, and were eagerly awaiting our future together. We were 25 years old and sure that we had nothing but decades of good times ahead. We said our vows, kissed in front of our family and friends, and partied the night away. 

Four years later, we are a distinctly different couple.

There are some things that have remained the same, of course. We still share tons of great memories from our college and grad school days. We still scream at the TV when we watch Duke Basketball games. I still snap at Will when I can tell he's stopped listening to me mid-conversation. Will still tries to change the channel when I leave The Golden Girls on for too long.

But the way we interact, the respect and love with which we treat each other, is far more palpable and constant than ever before. Our marriage is stronger than ever. And I owe all of that to Will.

I don't think Will could ever imagine that his wife would battle Stage IV colon cancer just a few years after vowing "in sickness and in health." I don't think he could've known that he'd be sitting bedside while his wife received chemotherapy treatment. I don't think he anticipated waiting 11 grueling hours while his wife got sliced and diced -- losing her ability to bear children along with her belly button. I don't think he ever considered the fact that he'd be seeing her after those 11 hours, swollen from surgery and attached to a breathing tube in the ICU. I don't think he could have guessed that his strong, confident wife would be given 50/50 odds for living another 10 years.

No young husband is prepared to deal with what Will dealt over this last year of marriage. And I don't think many young husbands would have responded with the same strength, support, optimism and tenderness. Will truly believes in me -- in my ability to fight, to thrive, and to be well. Will believes in our future together -- our house with a garden, our adopted children, and maybe another dog brother for Winston. Will knows that these cancer-killing adventures have only enhanced our lives and filled them with far more meaning. He is confident, strong, and endlessly supportive. 

I may be Will's inspiration, but he's mine, too.

Happy Anniversary, Will. Thank you for being who you are. And here's to decades and decades of living life in super-HD together.