Haydn

We started dating when I was almost sixteen.  He had just finished high school, we had been in the same social circles for some time.  About five months before our actual first kiss, there were signs of mutual attraction but the fates were against us then.  Our birthdays are just six days apart but that year his party had been brought forward to the weekend before mine (my birthday is actually first, but he is two years older).  The night began full of promise and teenage angst.  When he asked me to dance, I knew that he was planning to kiss me, so with a belly full of butterflies I followed him to the makeshift dance floor.   As we walked in the music changed the slowed African rhythms of Mango Groove’s “moments away”.  He drew me into a gentle embrace and within minutes we were in our own little world and nothing else mattered.

When you know you have found your soul mate, what is the point of looking any further?  Both of us knew from that moment that we would be together, forever.  Six years later, we were married.  We have the kind of relationship that others look at with confused awe.  After all the production that is our life, we are still as close as we were on that night in the living room when he finally kissed me.  Granted the butterflies are harder to stir but the warmth and genuine love and affection we have for each other is still there.  Revoltingly sweet, I know but this is the one aspect of my existence that I can honestly say is as good as it gets.

This happiness did not, however, lend itself to any kind of resolution to my medical drama.  Yes, you may sigh now, I do it all the time.  From miscarriages to c-sections, kidney stones to back surgeries, I am a Doctors wet dream.