Are you one of those people who hold week-long celebrations for your birthday? Or, maybe you prefer to have a birthday month. I’m not inclined to celebrate a day let alone a week, but every year, my husband and I acknowledge this week (July 31st to August 6th) as our anniversary week. You might wonder why that is—or not—but I’m going to tell you anyway. It’s because we had two weddings.
Chris and I had been dating a year, and there was talk about getting married. Okay, it was mostly one-sided. I process things rather quickly while Chris takes his sweet time. Not complaining—just reporting the facts. After one outing with this man, I knew he was God’s gift to me. There were a few moments I questioned His wisdom, but, for the most part, I was on board.
“We’re young,” Chris would tell me. “We have all the time in the world.”
Well, this wasn’t exactly accurate. I’m not going to reveal our ages, but I had been married previously for twenty-three years (and I was not a child bride) and Chris is nine years older than me. You do the math. But it wasn’t that we were closer to death than life that had me pressuring him. I’d been having strange premonitions that Chris was going to be sick—like cancer-sick. Most normal people would brush this off as an over-active imagination, but not me. A couple years before, I’d dreamt of my daughter’s near-fatal car accident two weeks before it occurred. I knew God had prepared my heart for it, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing the same here. Chris would tell me about this patient of his or that patient of his who had cancer, and my stomach would drop.
It started with pain and swelling in his groin area. He’d been knocked over by his hyper-active golden retriever, Sky, so he chalked it up to an injury. But it didn’t go away. Finally, he went to a urologist who put him on antibiotics. Meanwhile, we took our first road trip together before the school year started back up. We drove up the West Coast, through Oregon and Washington and into British Columbia. On the way, we visited with friends of his, which he claimed was my “test.” I passed with flying colors (she says humbly). Then we took the route down into Idaho to visit my aunt and uncle.
The entire time, I was waiting for Chris to pop the question. He’d hinted that a proposal was coming, but it didn’t. Instead, he was focused on the pain and swelling which hadn’t improved. We returned from our trip, and I started the new school year while Chris went in for a CT Scan.
It was a Friday night at six that the doctor called—which is never good. They found a mass on his kidney. As a writer, I want to share all the feelings and emotions we were going through. As a blogger, I know my word count is limited. Let’s just say it was devastating. We talked about what it would mean if he had cancer, and, as his girlfriend, I wouldn’t have a say in his treatment. Neither of us was willing to take that chance.
“We can go to my sister’s ranch next weekend and get married up there,” Chris suggested. Both his family and mine lived in the same area. It made sense. We just had to let them know of our intentions. Oh, and that he could potentially have renal cancer.
That Monday was July 31st, and it was my first full week of school. Chris got an appointment for the following Monday with the head of urology at UC Davis. We talked off and on throughout the day. After my students were gone, I called the school district to see how long it would take to get Chris on my insurance. Since he was self-employed, he had a very high deductible, and we had no idea what we would be facing. As a state employee, I had stellar insurance. Once I talked to a rep, I called Chris.
“It’s too bad we didn’t think of this sooner,” I told him. “When we get married, you’ll be insured the first day of the following month. So, if we’d been married in July, you would have been insured tomorrow.”
He was silent for a few moments. “What are you doing tonight?”
By the time I got to his house, he had made reservations at Chapel of the Bells in South Lake Tahoe (a mere 90-minute drive from his house) and I’d gotten a substitute teacher for the next day. We didn’t tell anyone in our families that we were going to get married before the following weekend, except my sister who was making all the arrangements for the “real” wedding. On the way up to the lake, I reminded Chris that he hadn’t proposed.
“And yet, you’re still marrying me.” It wasn’t the response I was looking for. My romantic side felt a little short-changed, but I didn’t care. We’d be married in only a few short hours. It was a strange time—excited to be starting this new chapter together and not knowing if it would be a short story.
The following Sunday, we were married in front of friends and family (still without benefit of a proposal). Our sisters pulled off a beautiful wedding on six-day’s notice. At the end of August, Chris went in for surgery to have the kidney removed—the tumor was benign.
And the proposal? Well, it took him a few years, but he got down on bended knee in front of a room full of people on Valentine’s Day after sharing our story. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house—including mine.
Comments 1
What a sweet story! You guys are awesome! ❤️