Ode to Erin

I read somewhere that we marry a version of our partner, who they are in that moment in time. We’ve known each other for nearly 20 years, married for almost 16 of them. People and personalities evolve over time. My validation-seeking, social butterfly, partying-to-fit-in self would rather cuddle with my youngest and watch Star Wars spin-offs and David Attenborough nature shows.

My life-of-the-party socialite wife has traded the glasses of wine and cocktails for chamomile tea on the couch and a sensible bedtime. Post-shift after-parties until dawn have given way to boho decor and yoga schedules.

We’ve both changed. What hasn’t changed is our partnership, our team. For 16 years we’ve been devoted to raising our children and trying valiantly to help them avoid the mistakes of our pasts. She has been an unwavering force in that endeavor, the current that makes our family flow.

My diagnosis has added another burden to her already-overflowing plate. In addition to our kids, she has been assisting with the care of a older friend whose health is failing, who has lost his entire immediate family this past year. Add another person whose health is in question to her caretaking responsibilities.

And yet there she is making fresh green juices for me every morning, fortifying my health. She attends the oncology appointments with me, to remember all the details that my scrambled brain cannot. Meal planning for the weeks ahead when eating solid foods could become difficult. Keeping the pantry and fridge stocked with the extra nutrition I need to maintain/grow my weight. Reminding me that I have to do yet another mouth rinse treatment.

All while getting the kids to school, packing lunches, buying groceries, putting dinner on the table, organizing an epic (surprise) Christmas trip to New York, and generally making things happen. No coddling, just cool, calm pragmatism for all my new routines. Daily radiation. Weekly chemo. Hourly mouth rinses. Nightly fluoride treatments. Daily smoothies and debilitating anxiety.

I don’t know what’s going through her mind. I do know I wouldn’t do this without her.