My Valentine

I was never a big fan of Valentine's Day. Too commercial, and mostly just a huge set-up for disappointment.

However, my grandpa made me rethink this position. The year after my grandma died, my sister visited Grandpa on Valentine's Day. When she wished him a loving "Happy Valentine's Day!" he replied, "My valentine died."

Tissues, anyone?

Oh my, that killed me. I still get tears in my eyes when I think of that.

Yes, we can show love any day of the year. But maybe there's something to this annual reminder to cherish the ones we love. And so, we celebrate. Somewhat reluctantly and very modestly, but my husband and I celebrate.

Although I'm pretty sure my hubby always wonders if this disavowal of Valentine's Day is really a trap: that he should really be doing something huge or he'll be in the dog house for a month.

I promise it's never a trap. :) 

For Valentine's Day, I promised to get up early and run an errand with him. But he thought I was sleeping too peacefully and let me sleep in. That's a great valentine present! All I needed. We had lunch plans with friends, and on the way he wanted to stop at the store "to get something for his stomach."

After two years of cancer treatment, I have about every solution available for any kind of GI problem. Of course, I pointed this out, but he assured me that he knew exactly what he needed and he was certain we didn't have it.

OK, fine.

We stop, he runs into the store, and comes out with a lovely bouquet of ROSES for me! Aw! The stomach story holds, too, since this reduces his anxiety over his "should I? shouldn't I?" valentine debate.

[This would be the perfect place to insert a beautiful photo of the roses and a selfie of us, but I forgot - enjoying the moments instead of recording them, which is probably just fine.]

As I blog my way through life and cancer treatment, I don't say much about my husband. He's quite a bit more private than I am, and I tend to barrel along, hatching ideas and making plans, often giving him whiplash. He married his opposite. We are morning person and night owl, concert lover and iPod wielder, hairbands and country music, small and large circles of friends, connoisseur of fine things and frugal Scandinavian, tumult and calm, researcher and gut follower... when we discover something in common, we throw a little party! After almost 20 years of marriage, we're getting close to working out most of the kinks.

We just discovered a new problem, though. Before we got married, we heard that lobsters mate for life. So, all these years, "lobster" has been one of our pet names. Well... recently we learned that is NOT true. Animals that DO mate for life include albatross and black vultures. There are others, but we can't remember them because we spent too much time joking about how these are not acceptable alternatives. More research is needed.

On this Valentine's Day, I want to give a shout out to my somewhat silent partner. The one who thinks I'm hysterical and makes me gasp for air and make funny sounds because he's making fun of me - trust me, we're hysterical together. The one who takes me camping and does all the dirty work so I can live the dream of life on the road. The one who supported me through the grueling demands of nursing school and didn't complain too much about being my test patient, even letting me draw all the lobes of the lungs on his back one time. The one who bought me a special puke bucket when I started chemo therapy, and was always willing to empty it. The one who is the best cancer caregiver, rolling with the punches of body-altering surgeries and scars, discussing unpleasant body functions, even exploring all the scary cancer-related "what ifs" with me. The one who chooses wonderful dogs, picks up most of the poop, and doesn't mind too much that I don't train them properly.

Together, we've done better and worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health, and I'm in till death do us part. He's a keeper, this one.

Happy Valentine's Day!