Uncertain

July 12, 2017

I’m paying medical bills tonight. Three came in over the last week and so I sit down at my desk, pull out my checkbook and evaluate which to pay first. I could just pay these online, but for some reason I only pay my medical bills with checks. I gather my stamps, collect a few envelopes, find a pen and get to work. As I’m looking at the amount due, writing my third check, a thought crosses my mind, “who’s going to marry me when I come with so much cost, so much work?”

I wish I didn’t think it. But I’m in a marriage mindset. I watched a romantic comedy last night (probably a mistake) and today is the one-year anniversary of my roommate’s wedding, and I started reading yet another relationship book.

I’ve had a lot of time to spend by myself over the past few years, hospital rooms are lonely places, and I’ve gotten to know myself pretty well.

I’m great company.  

But I’ve realized lately, that I have one major insecurity.

Last year on this day, my roommate got married. It was a beautiful ceremony and they were so full of joy and love and happiness.

I remember the day very clearly. As they were saying their vows, five words stuck out to me, “in sickness and in health.”

I felt a little twinge as I heard those words over and over again.

“In sickness and in health.” “In sickness and in health.”

I’m feeling those words significantly as I realize that for me, they are very real. And it reminds me of my biggest uncertainty surrounding my diagnoses - I’m uncertain someone will be able to love me fully with my illnesses.

I’ve seen the toll chronic illness takes on a family, on a house. I’ve seen how tired a person becomes, how stressful and heartbreaking it is to experience a person you love so dearly consistently and constantly experience great pain. I’ve seen, firsthand, how some people respond to this weight of caregiving or sharing the burden of chronic illness by removing themselves from the experience altogether. I’ve seen the person leave. 

But I’ve also seen them stay. And I’ve seen them cry and break as they helplessly witness my pain. I’ve seen the wear my illness has on them. I’ve seen a little bit of them fall to pieces. I’ve seen them stay and wished they wouldn’t.

So when I hear the words, “in sickness and in health,” I know this vow is weighted to one end for me.

I’m not sure someone will willingly, knowingly partake in that end.

I know, logically, that people with chronic illness get married all of the time. I know that couples navigate illness and trials and complications every single day.

But I know it’s not easy. It’s not the ideal. It’s not the half of the vow we like or hope to make.

And I’m so uncertain that someone who hasn’t been exposed to serious or chronic illness in a close friend or family member will be able to knowingly comprehend and set expectations to what life with me would look like, and I’m so afraid it would lead to resentment when it falls so very far from expectations.

I’m not sure how to resolve this insecurity. I’m hoping to be proven wrong. I’m not getting married anytime soon and I’ve never even been on a date, so I’m probably getting a bit ahead of myself, but it’s something I look around and see in the happiness among me.

I’m scared of “in sickness and in health.” 

I’m insecure in a relationship I don’t even have, though I’m not able to reason this one away.

But if all else fails, I’m great company.

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