Bad Breath! Bad Hair!

10/28/09 Not sure where Mom is going with this---doesn't sound very spiritual, but it is in alphabetical order. At this point her jottings are all on a yellow legal pad. Molly

“Bad breath, bad gas, bad hair……………but I love you.” Not exactly romantic endearments but music to the ears of someone who has just semi- awakened from yet another surgery. These are the realities of that surgery and yet one more time, my #1 nurse is letting me know that he’ll be there with me through it all.

A wife with teeth that can’t be brushed for another week, gas that is noisy, uncontrollable and embarrassing, hair that is gumpy with blood and has a motor oil sheen and glasses taped to my forehead because absolutely nothing should touch my nose or my right ear. Aftermaths of reconstructive surgery. Stinky situations / unpleasant circumstances. Not exactly “the movie Larry bought the ticket for” some 40 years ago. But….he rubbed my neck---he certainly couldn’t run his fingers through my hair---opened his Bible and began to read to me from "Exodus."

That, my friends, is a thing called love---and it’s a choice. Long after the trappings of youth have faded, it’s that act of the will, the “choosing” to stay in sickness and in health. That’s what endures. That’s love.