Day Three of My Transplant Week Celebration
The Day I Married My Best Friend
Welcome to day three of my favorite week of the year! This entire week I celebrate the anniversary of my second heart transplant, and so much more! Come savor the wonderful memories of this week with me.
In my last post, I got the call at 1:08 in the morning of October first. Jay caught a flight from Detroit to Nashville, arriving an hour before my scheduled surgery time only to find out it was canceled because the donor heart was no good. Dejected, we returned to my apartment.
As you can imagine, I was devastated. I didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning. Even though Jay was there, I saw no reason to get up. All I wanted to do was remain under the covers and mope. Jay surprised me with the most unexpected thing I could have imagined. He asked me to marry him.
At this point, we had been together the better part of fifteen years. We had discussed marriage but never agreed on anything. It had been years since the topic came up, and following a few vigorous arguments, we left it alone. After two months of living without me, Jay decided he was ready.
My spirits were buoyed by his proposal, granting me the motivation to get dressed and accompany him to the county clerk’s office to apply for a marriage license. I realized that this had been a premeditated proposal when he produced all of the necessary documents for the application. He had done his research.
When we approached the clerk with our application, she processed it without a problem and handed us our license. “This is good for thirty days. Just give it to whoever will be officiating your wedding.”
My heart skipped when I realized we didn’t know anyone who could perform the ceremony. “Can we get married here?” I asked.
The clerk advised us that we could get married there, but they were scheduling for three weeks out. We would have to wait.
I swallowed hard and decided to play the heart transplant card. Extending both of my arms, I showed her the bruises from multiple IV stick the day before. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I explained my status on the transplant list and that we wanted to get married before I got the next call, or worse, didn’t live long enough to get another call.
She excused herself and went to the back to speak with her supervisor. When she returned, she asked if we could return to the office at 8:00 the next morning.
“Yes!” we exclaimed in unison.
The next few hours involved finding a dress and shoes for me, then Jay took me back to the apartment where I could nap while he shopped for dress pants and a button-down shirt. The next morning, we returned to the county clerk’s office to officially become husband and wife.
Knowing how much I love Shakespeare, Jay quoted Hamlet when it came time for us to exchange vows:
Doubt that the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love.
There was no way I could top a quote from the Bard, and I sniffled and wept my way through my own rambling declaration of love. The clerk pronounced us husband and wife, and Jay kissed me even with the accumulation of tears and snot on my face.
Holding hands like schoolkids, we hurried back to the car and went out to breakfast at the Pancake Pantry near the apartment. Pancakes in lieu of wedding cake seemed appropriate following an early morning ceremony.
Six years later, we’re still holding hands. I don’t fear growing older so long as we can do it together. Gidget McFidget is still with us, although her face is growing whiter every day.
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You and your husband definitely have huge and healthy hearts where it matters the most.