"Babe, I'm here in sickness or health, injured or noninjured, back or hip, groin or intestines, vomit or diarrhea."
There were a few particular moments over the Christmas holiday where I felt like someone punched me in the face, and then continued to kick me while I was down. Over the course of a couple days, I had two concerning spots on my skin removed by the dermatologist, was told by my neurosurgeon that the MRI of my lower spine looked great but that there were some definite concerns in my hip (namely a cyst, torn ligaments and bone deterioration which would explain the recent pain in my pelvis and hips), was referred to an orthopedic surgeon who couldn't see me until February, and on top of it all, got the stomach flu on Christmas night.
On Wednesday, after we finally made it back to Wyoming, I sat on the couch and thanked Keane for sticking by me and my old-woman body this year, and apologized to him for having to deal with me in my current, very sorry condition. His response made me laugh and forget how terrible I was feeling, if only for a moment.
What a lucky girl I am.