Hello dear readers!
The best laid plans
of mice and men often go awry, or so that great unknown ‘they’
say. ‘They’ might just have a point.
I can’t say that
I’ve ever been that certain regarding the mice bit to be honest. I
didn’t realise they were all that into planning, other than keeping
a careful eye out for the cat and a more hopeful one peeled for
unexpected cheese, but in my own case the last two weeks have seen a
need for a certain… flexibility, in the planning department.
Let me explain.
Friday the 28th
of July marked the fifth anniversary of that wonderful day that my
wonderful wife, Tina, actually became my wonderful wife. I’d popped
the question roughly a year before (six years ago today in fact!) and
she had been kind enough to take pity on me and actually say yes. Any
rumours of me twisting her arm up her back are of course, completely
unfounded.
This all happened in
the beautiful and romantic city of Paris which, thanks to my parents
very generous gift of some holiday vouchers, we’d managed to book a
whole three nights in. My, but did we pack those days choc-full. The
Louvre, Notre Dame, The Musee D’Orsay, The Tour Eiffel; all fell
before our rapacious tourism. The Mona Lisa had always been on my
bucket list and I’m happy to day that I sat and stared at her from
a distance of only a few feet. She really is breathtaking up close
and in the flesh.
But of course the
highlight of those halcyon days was the lunch at a small restaurant
where
I nervously rescued
the ring I’d been carrying around with me and, completely failing
to get down on one knee due to the impracticality and inherrent risk
of not being able to get up, asked Tina to do me the considerable
honour of being my wife.
It is, of course, an
enduring and much cherished memory and, as we raced toward this
landmark anniversary it was one that I felt would be worth
recreating. We could head back to France, re-live the memories of
that first trip and even take in a few of the sights that we missed
first time around (Arc de Triomphe and Sacre Coeur being the two most
noticeable cases), and perhaps even find that little restaurant
again. It was not to be.
Those that are
fortunate enough to know me may think this might be due to my
trademark laissez faire attitude to life but, insurance to one side,
(and we will come to that in just a little while) the holiday was
booked in plenty of time along with corresponding time off work.
Giving us both something to really look forward to.
I say we but in
reality it was me that was doing the bulk of the looking forward.
Tina knew that we were going away, knew that we were going abroad,
but I had decided that the destination itself would remain top secret
until the very last minute partially because I’m a soppy old
romantic and partially because I knew it would drive Tina absolutely
insane not to know and I would be able to derive an immense amount of
pleasure from torturing her mercilessly. A win-win if ever there was
one.
Now, the astute
reader may have gleaned that things did not exactly go to plan. This
was down to the diagnosis that I received eleven days ago and which
is documented here. Of course given this news and the fact that we
were due to fly nine days from the receipt of it, it unfortunately
became necessary to cancel the holiday. It also became necessary to
let Tina in on the big secret.
Luckily, after more
than a little upset and hassle, the holiday company in question did
eventually decide to give us a full refund of the monies paid. Having
not sorted out the insurance (plenty of time!) this was very welcome
news. Sadly, as the refund was in the form of a non-transferable
credit note, and as I won’t be able to fly anywhere for at least a
little while (at least until I’ve seen the specialist for my
initial post-diagnosis consultation) this means that this will now be
spent on next year’s holiday.
However, there was
still an anniversary to celebrate and MS or no MS, we meant to
celebrate it. As travelling anywhere too far was pretty much of a
no-no we needed to stay pretty close to home. I think it was Tina
that hit upon the idea of spending a night in the hotel we got
married in, and that is just what we did, coupled with two days worth
of moseying around my native Leeds, some decent food, and perhaps
just a tiny hint of alcoholic beverages (Caiprinhas for the win!).
It might not have been Paris but it did bring back a hell of a lot of
memories despite the refurb and gave us a chance to revisit the exact
room in which we made our vows. When all is said and done it was
truly, truly lovely.
Really, that’s
what’s important to remember. The last five years haven’t always
featured the smoothest of sailing. There have been kidney stones,
functional strokes, bladder problems and, of course, Multiple
Sclerosis. There has been just one out of those five years that has
seen neither of us admitted to hospital, but still we endure. We
made our vows back in that room five years ago and if there was ever
an acid test for really, truly meaning every word of them then those
year have most certainly provided them. The song that we chose for our first dance certainly has echoes of ironic prescience
Hopefully the next
five will see a reduction in hospitals, doctors, and other such
dramas. Hopefully we’ve got rid of a decent chunk of the grief that
can fall into one married couples lives. If it means doing it all
again though. If it means enduring the tears, and the heartache, and
consciously deciding to accept that, then all I can say is… I do.
Until next time...
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