The Love-Goddess … She Went Through a Wall For Me

When a bundle of magazines, which included an image of the Love-goddess on the cover (the image I am using for this piece) and a feature article about her work, arrived at the house I phoned her at the office. I notified her that I was leaving her for the woman on the cover of a magazine that had just arrived in the mail. I believe her response was something along the lines of “that’s nice, what time is dinner”.

Recently I asked myself the question “how do I celebrate the life of a woman who has gone through a wall and beyond for me”. The answer I came up with was “secretly”. I decided to write a tribute article about her and unleash it on the world. I would then lay in wait for her to discover it … it seemed like a good idea at the time. 🙂

The “go through the wall” part was how she responded to my recent illness. I have recently written about that so I will not belabour you with the details again. The bottom line was, I think I remember arriving at the emergency ward at our local hospital, but I have absolutely no recollection of the next five or six weeks while I was having my life saved in the ICU ward. I was in La-La-Land as the Love-goddess was busy working 24/7 to ensure that I was receiving the very best healthcare possible, but more importantly, all the while attempting to breathe life back into me. Before I tell you all about that, a little background information needs to be provided.

A Little History

The Love-goddess was born and raised in Southwestern Ontario in an area that produced the likes of John Kenneth Galbraith. She was the eldest of four daughters, who were born in quick succession. She was followed by “the twins,” who were later diagnosed with a degenerative disease like Lou Gehrig’s disease. Shortly after the twins were born the youngest daughter appeared on the scene.

Her mother was a nurse and her father a decorated war hero. Sadly, as with many returned soldiers, he came home with mental health issues. The family made the best of their situation and worked very hard to ensure that the Love-goddess and the other three girls would grow up and succeed to the best of their abilities.

And succeed she did. The Love-goddess loved school and ended up skipping a grade and was valedictorian of her high school graduation. A star was born. Her family experiences led her to choose a path in University that would eventually lead her to work with folks who had social and/or mental health issues.

Shortly after graduation she found herself working in her chosen field. It also found her married with an infant child. The marriage didn’t last long enough for the lovely little boy it produced to be out of diapers. She had become a single mother at a very young age. Onwards she charged. Early in her career she decided that she needed a Master’s degree to strengthen her opportunities for advancement. Off she went, little boy in tow, to do her degree. She excelled and went on to become a respected psychotherapist at a famous Canadian hospital.

Many years later the little boy had grown to become a young man and the Love-goddess once again decided she need to expand her opportunities. So off she went to Smith College in the United States and acquired her PhD. Upon graduation she secured a tenure track position at one of the two universities in the city in which we now live. Many years later, before she retired after a distinguished career, she had risen to the rank of full Professor and was the Associate Dean of the Faculty in which she was teaching. She was a star, and not just in my eyes.

And Then It Happened

Which brings you up to the point of when and how we met. My best friend, who I affectionately refer to as “The-Man-Who-Must-Not-Appear-On-Facebook,” had returned to Ontario after teaching at a western Canadian University for a number of years. Fortunately for me, as it turns out, he had landed a teaching gig in the same faculty that the Love-goddess had recently been hired into. Being professionally like-minded they quickly became friends.

One day he asked about her relationship situation, which brought on the “what relationship” response, along with the “if you know any nice guys perhaps you could provide an introduction” ask. Apparently around the same time I, who having been single for five years, asked him to help me meet a “lady professor”. These don’t sound like any words I would ever utter, but he claims that’s exactly what I said. So be it. After receiving these two requests he asked his wonderful wife if she thought that bringing the two of us together might produce a successful match. Apparently, they both said “No-waaaay” at the same time.

A blind date was arranged … and we were married eight months later–and things actually progressed much faster than that. Four months after our first date The Love-goddess went away with her two best friends for a weekend and the three of them decided that I “was the one” and that we should wed right away, bypassing all the living together/getting to know one another a little better phase of the operation. She came home and advised me of their decision. I was feeling a little bit left out of the marital decision-making process, so I felt compelled to drop to one knee and propose just so I could later claim that I was deeply involved in the whole “we should get married thing”. This was the best thing that has ever happened to me.

The Fit Hits the Shan

When you take your marriage vows you hope that the “for better or for worse” statement mostly applies to the “better” part of the proclamation. Unfortunately for the Love-goddess she recently got stuck with the “worse” bit. It was while I was in La-La-Land that she got to prove just how ready she was for the tough sledding.

Day after day, week after week, she sat at my side and carried on as though I was still present. She talked to me, she played music for me, and she read to me. She went home each night exhausted but got up each morning and began her bedside vigil all over again. In many ways I am glad that I have absolutely no recollection of my time in the ICU. In others, I wish I could recall the Love-goddess’ selfless and caring support.

Not only was she attempting to support my emotional and intellectual needs but she was also steadfast in staying on top of my healthcare and treatment. At one point the attending doctor asked her if she thought I would want to be placed back on a respirator after I had been taken off of it. I had failed to start breathing properly, and she knew that this would probably result in me eventually slipping off into the dark abyss. The doctor was worried that I risked brain damage if I was to remain on the respirator much longer, which she was correct in assuming could be worse than death. The Love-goddess told the doctor that dying was not an option I would want any part of and directed her to put me back on the respirator. All of these things that took place in the ICU I learned later on … second hand.

After I had recovered sufficiently to be moved out of the ICU, and my sedation had been reduced to a level so that I was once again in touch with reality, the Love-goddess was unwavering in her commitment to being by my side. She spent many hours every day simply helping to keep my spirits up and, because my muscles had atrophied, assisting me with simple mundane physical acts like eating. This went on for the entire four months of my hospital incarceration. It finally got to the point where I occasionally had to say to her “stay home tomorrow” … with the added unspoken thought, “and take care of yourself”.

Fortunately, many friends also rose to the occasion. “The-Man-Who-Must-Not-Appear-On-Facebook” and his wonderful wife were right there alongside her throughout my time in the ICU and beyond. Friendship at its highest level. Others understood what the Love-goddess was going through and supported her as much as she was supporting me. She was giving it all for me but many folks who loved her and respected her had her back.

I came home on March 20. This was two days after our local hospital system went into lockdown. As I frequently joke, I may have been the only person in the country who thought that being sent home into lockdown was a major upgrade. Although I was being supported by off-site nursing, and PT, and OT personnel, this ultimately meant even more pressure and work for the Love-goddess. She had to cook and clean for me, help me get around, and attend to my many personal needs. Basically, she became my Personal Support Worker. For her, being sent into lockdown with me was definitely not an upgrade. Yet she persevered.

That unwavering support… OK, she does occasionally waiver; who can blame her… continues until this day. As I write this on my laptop she is attending to the bandaging of my necrotic toes. This is definitely not a pleasant task because of their disgusting appearance and death like smell. I am smiling as I type because she has absolutely no clue about what I am up to.

Many times, as she is helping, I wonder “would I be as steadfast in my commitment to helping her if our roles were reversed”? My silent response to myself is always the same, “you had better be buddy”.

So, what do you say to someone like this who has gone through the metaphorical wall for you? Do you repeatedly tell them how much you love them … as if they have never heard you speak those words before?

No, that is the obvious. You secretly write about them so the whole world has an opportunity to hear what you have to say and think about them. You say, better than I love you, “I like you, I respect you, I admire you, I love your strength, I appreciate your intelligence. You are my hero. I will be there for you when you need me. I promise”.