This has been, without much competition, the worst year of our relationship. (Bear with me here, I'm going somewhere with this.) For whatever reason, we have had the worst luck in 2014 than I can remember ever having in my life (a great feeling for the year you're getting married, as you can imagine). You know how movies and magazines say when you get engaged it's all magical and sunshine and rainbows? That's bull. Wedding planning can be incredibly stressful, not to mention time consuming and expensive, even without additional issues.
So far this year, we spent several hundred dollars for me NOT to take a class (thanks, Mizzou); my computer crashed and lost 2 months of data right before my graduation, which meant I had to work almost around the clock to graduate on time; there was some shady political stuff surrounding my graduation events that I won't get into here; we've had car trouble ranging from blown tires to cracked windshields to fried alternators; Lance's aunt passed away; our teeny tiny apartment flooded all spring, so we lived in our living room for 2 months; we finally moved, and our new apartment had a severe flea infestation (10+ chemicals later and we finally gave up and are waiting for them to starve to death); we never got the puppy that we moved into the apartment for in the first place because of the fleas; I was on Accutane for 10 months (admittedly voluntarily, but I had nosebleeds every day for the duration and wasn't allowed to see the sun all summer); halfway through the year my health insurance deductible more than doubled because I changed my address; the city where we will be getting married is in the national spotlight for race riots; my grandparents RSVP'ed no to the wedding with no explanation; our church, which we chose and booked years ago, needed steeple repairs and is likely going to be completely under scaffolding on our wedding day; and finally, we've been pretty tight financially because literally every line item in the wedding has gone over budget (sometimes our doing, other times completely unpredictably). In between all of the catastrophic things, we fit a more than a few random annoyances and misfortunes (the day we learned that a Batman ice cube tray does not belong in the dishwasher was a sad day). We've had the occasional happy experience (I finally graduated, cake tasting, we took a short trip to Vegas, etc.), but overall, I have never experienced daily life to be so difficult as I have this year.
Now, I recognize that a lot of these issues are first-world problems, but some were not. Case in point: probably the single worst thing that's happened this year was Lance's oral surgery last summer.
It was a pretty routine surgery. Lance's dentist referred him to an oral surgeon to have a tooth out. We showed up super early and went through all of the admission and aftercare protocols. He was nervous because he had never been under anesthesia before, but the surgery went well and afterward the nurse had me come sit with him while the drugs wore off. He said a couple strange things that would have been funny if he hadn't been so disoriented; he felt his face and commented that he was glad they didn't break his jaw (apparently something on the waiver he signed), he flirted with the nurse (bizarrely out of character), and he made a few jokes (like calling himself a "holebilly"). Between the nurse and myself, we managed to load him into the car to go home.
This is the point at which things started to go sideways. The surgeon's office recommended that we fill his pain prescriptions at the Walgreen's down the street because it had a drive-through window (you can't leave patients in the car because they sometimes have short-term amnesia and wander off, and you can't bring them inside because they might fall down and get hurt). So, off we went to Walgreen's. I turned in his prescriptions at the window, and the pharmacist said that they would be ready in 15-20 minutes. Not wanting to take Lance home and have to wake him up to go back out, I waited in the parking lot with the air on while I waited for the text alert. Lance slept. After 40 minutes, I went back to the window and asked if the medicines were ready. The pharmacist said they had not filled it because of an issue with the insurance, but they never called and asked us whether to fill it or not. The difference was something like $20, so I told them to fill it. The pharmacist was extremely rude and told me in no uncertain terms not to come back until we received a text message, which should take 10-15 minutes. After 20 minutes, I went back to the window and picked up the medicines, even though I never got the alert. At this point we had been sitting in the car with the sun beating down on us for over an hour. We headed home (with Lance loudly giving me his opinion on the uselessness of pharmacists), I unpacked Lance from the car, and we went inside to give him his medicines and put him to bed.
We made it up the path to the apartment alright, and went to the kitchen to get some water and read the prescriptions. As I'm reading the aftercare directions, Lance says, "Hold on, I think I'm feeling nauseous from swallowing all this blood." He leaned over and braced himself on the kitchen sink, thinking he would vomit, and I stood off to the side, out of the way.
All of the sudden, his entire body went limp. I felt like I was watching in slow motion as he collapsed, his fingers sliding through the water in a bowl in the sink, and his head slammed onto our tile-over-concrete kitchen floor and bounced back up 6 inches with the force of the impact. His eyes rolled back into his head and he seized.
It took me about a second to decide to run for my phone and call 911 before starting CPR. I thought he had had an allergic reaction to the drugs and could be in cardiac arrest, and I figured he could survive for a few seconds unconscious having just had air versus after any attempt at CPR. When I came back with my phone, already dialing 911, he was staring up at the ceiling, totally confused, and asked, "Where am I?"
I was completely freaked out that he may have a brain injury, so I made him stay on the floor while I called the oral surgeons to ask what to do. The nurse was completely bored with me. "Well, is he awake?" Yes. "Does he know who he is?" Yes. "Ok, so he fainted. It happens all the time. Just don't let him go anywhere by himself for 24 hours." Apparently being upright (like in the car) after anesthesia can cause your blood pressure to drop and you faint. Nowhere on the aftercare sheet did it say that fainting is possible, let alone common. Also, when people faint, it's not that graceful, eyes-closed, fall-to-the-side bit that the damsels do in the movies. It's a horrible dead-weight seizure.
Against Lance's protests, I followed him everywhere the next time he stood up to get something. He gave me about 2 seconds of warning the second time he fainted, saying simply, "Huh. Here comes that nauseous feeling again." This time, I hugged and caught him from behind, slamming into a wall as he collapsed and sliding us both down to sit on the floor. I held him for what seemed like forever, watching his eyes loll back and just praying that he would come back to me soon. After a bit he woke up, declared that he felt like hell, and never complained about me shadowing him again for the next two days.
I tend to think I'm pretty good in emergency situations, but I have never been so scared in my life as watching Lance fall and crack his head on the floor and seize. Between both events, he was probably unconscious for less than a minute, but in that time I felt everything that he means to me, how little direction I would have in my life without him, how much he is integrated in all my future plans and dreams. He is my anchor. He is my everything. I need him, and I have never loved him more than I do now. To lose him would be unfathomable.
In the days that followed, Lance tried to recover from his surgery and the giant knot on the back of his head, and I tried to recover from the shock and the guilt that I didn't catch him when he fell. He kept apologizing for freaking me out, and I kept repeating, "In sickness and in health, babe."
For all that this has been a total shithouse year for us, we have had great practice in living our vows. For better or for worse? Check. For richer or for poorer? Check. In sickness and in health? Check. Even though this has been the worst year of our relationship, it has only served to make us stronger as a couple. There have been doubts and stresses about the wedding, but whether we chose the right partner or whether our marriage will succeed has never been a question.
Everyone says that the first year of marriage is the hardest, and my friend Sarah says we just got that hard year out of the way early. If that's true, I guess we should look at it as a blessing. From that perspective, the worst year of our relationship has forced us to grow together in a way that happier times did not. Maybe it is our best worst year.