I was only 21 years old when I married Mr. 1inamillion on June 21st, 1997. He was thirteen years my senior, and we had met just eleven months prior. We moved to Indiana just two weeks after our wedding, far from my family and even further from his. Four months after the big move, a big tumor appeared on an MRI....soccer ball big.
Just four months after 'for better or worse' and 'in sickness and health', shit hit worse and we found ourselves knee deep in sickness. To say it was overwhelming is certainly understating it. I remember the first general surgeon we saw in Fort Wayne, IN rambled off a list of what might need removed that may have included every internal organ in my vocabulary. Pancreas? He said pancreas. Can you live without a pancreas? That doctor did have the wisdom to know it was over his head and immediately sent us to IU Med Center in Indianapolis.
Awe, wisdom to foresee over your head before reaching knee deep without the option of turning back. We didn't have it. Our eyes were only on a wedding. We were legal adults (me just barely) and anatomically different, so both the law and the church said go for it. I remember seeing doctor after doctor, filling out form after form with him and the needle biopsy on that first visit to IU. It was November and he had a roommate in his recovery room. An older gentleman who was accompanied by his wife, daughter, and grandchildren, and oh what was this little set back going to do to their Thanksgiving traditions? I remember thinking how cruel and unfair that was; how I couldn't do this, this is over my head, and shouldn't I be able to at least plan a first fucking Thanksgiving? Screw their YEARS of traditions. Not fair. They had grandchildren. I would be changing bed pans years before baby diapers.
The first surgery to remove that soccer ball from Mr. 1inamillion's belly was December 2nd. My parents traveled from Kansas, his family joined us from Texas. We were the first to arrive in that waiting room and among the last to leave that day. I remember the OR nurse coming out with updates, and Dr. W...my all time favorite. He was a teacher, always followed by a group of interns or students and I suspect that's why he was so good with me. Our first professor. I remember sitting between our parents, feeling too young and unprepared for the worse and the sickness so soon, but all of the information was being directed to me, as though I was very much in charge. I had no idea what he would want if anything went wrong, but it was all on me if anything did.
We made some of the best friends in Fort Wayne. Among them, a gay couple who had been together over a decade. I remember noting the contrast then. I was so ill prepared to be Mr. 1inamillion's advocate. Months with eyes on only a party and romance, I had no idea the decisions he'd make or what he'd want me to do for him. Sure, we were old enough and our parts were different, but we were SO. NOT. qualified for the vows we made. Yet we made them and were given the rights and responsibilities for one another, while others more deserving are denied.
Nearly fifteen years after our wedding, things did go wrong and it was all on me. Cancer had spread to Mr. 1inamillion's brain and I was his advocate. At this point, I was ready. Although not a requirement, we finally had what Steve & CJ had. Years of partnership. Conversations, companionship, love and care for one another that enabled me to know what he needed and wanted and qualified me, empowered me, to be his voice. Mr. 1inamillion and I spent years in worse and sickness and made it all the way until death did we part. We hit all of the hard parts of our marital vows, and not a one of them required us to be of different genders.
