Mark may not have enjoyed the events of his morning, but I certainly did. Well, one thing in particular: the lovie-eyed looks I got when he was waking up in the recovery room of our local outpatient surgery center. Oh! And the loving, drowzy comments that came with them.
“You are amazing.”
His soft eyes locked on my eyes.
“You are beautiful.”
He added a tired smile, still looking only into my eyes.
“You really are incredible. Just beautiful.”
Wow. His face was so love-filled, his voice so sweet. Whatever they put in his IV, I am grateful for it.
For 45 minutes or so, Mark floated in and out of this state of sedated love, and I heard how beautiful and amazing I was at least a dozen times.
Fortunately he wasn’t recovering from anything more than a test that involved looking at his esophagus and stomach with the aid of a scope. And fortunately, his test results were normal.
The sedative that freed Mark’s passionate side made the test more tolerable. It also made him even more lovable; for in addition to the words he spoke, Mark also kept a soft but firm hold onto my hands. He held my hands in his from the moment he first reached out – quite bleary-eyed –until falling soundly back to sleep after hearing the doctor’s excellent report.
Then, left alone to share our dorm-room-sized, curtained cubicle, I felt like we were dating again. And in the brief spaces of time when Mark drifted back into deep sleep, I gazed at his face with moist eyes. He is still the man I fell in love with.
We are both so different from the 25-years-younger versions of ourselves. But we are still soul companions. We are still in love.
I am so blessed to be Mark’s wife. So blessed to have been his caregiver today.
And you know what? He is not looking forward to the colonoscopy scheduled next week for him, but (forgive me, Mark) I am.
Mark, I promise to meet you in recovery again and hold your hands for as long as you want me to.
How about forever?
* Yes, I’m borrowing the title of a movie for today’s blog, but it seems so apropos.