civil matrimony

Last Friday, Georgi and I got married in beautiful San Diego, CA. It was something we had been planning for a few months. After the diagnosis, we thought seriously about canceling the trip. I had missed a lot of work and had no vacation time to compensate. We decided to just fuck it. Who cares? We may never have the chance again to get married, so why not?

The Tuesday before we left, we went with my mom to our first ALS support group meeting. I wish I could say it did a lot for me, but I was still at the stage where if you even look with slight pity or sorrow at me, I burst into tears. Even a "you're in my thoughts," sends me over the edge. I was still having trouble accepting any of this as really happening, and more than that, insisting that it must be a mistake and must be something else.

To say I don't still think that a lot of the time would be a complete and utter lie.

Everyone there was very nice, very inspirational in all their own rights, and all older than me. I couldn't concentrate on anyone talking about the latest drug they were on or whether or not to have a feeding tube or the lending closet of wheelchairs and ramps. I wanted to scream, "I DON'T BELONG HERE!" Yup. There's that denial again. Georgi spoke a lot, asked a lot of questions. My mom did a little. We were given a lot of information and a lot of hugs. I also met Libby. The one person so far who has given me even an inkling of hope in all of this. She was diagnosed at my age. Now, 18 years later, she has had 2 kids since, still walks, drives, uses the computer, and eats what she wants. She can even talk still, although difficult to understand at times. Although obviously physically impaired, Libby personifies where I hope to be in 18 years. I spend my time either denying to myself that this is really happening, or sincerely hoping that I'm like Libby and have another 18 years of walking, talking, birthing, driving, typing, eating - living.

My divorce paperwork came in the day before we left. Finally. It had been in the works for months, but for some reason was being looked over in the circuit court. Yes. I was married. To a man. For about 5 years. We had started dating when I was 18, married at 21, before I had much time (or maturity) to evaluate what I wanted out of a partner or out of life. I grew up a lot in 5 years. And grew away.

I met Georgi in August of '07. I started an internship with the forensic team at my hospital, and she was the forensic social worker. Initially, she thought I was a preppie little nurse and was irritated to have me there. I was in amazement that this social worker had a mohawk and tattoos. We quickly grew on each other, though, and quickly developed a friendship. Unbeknownst to each other, we were both dealing with our own demons. We went to dinner one night after she changed jobs and my internship was over. We spent the evening talking about things that I had never been able to talk freely about with another human being. I instantly began to feel a connection with her. From that night on, she was on my mind a large portion of everyday. I thought about how she was doing, what she was doing, when we could hang out together again, and mostly if she was thinking any of the same.

We continued to spend time together, in quite unconventional ways at times. Bingo at her work, the ER while she received IV fluids after being sick, an ice fight in her kitchen, and photobooth pictures while her girlfriend at the time stood by, skeptical. If you had asked either of us at the time if something was going on, we each would have said absolutely not. But it wasn't enough to realistically convince any outsider looking in.

Then one night I almost lost her. I never had her, but I almost lost her. To even think about it now, almost 10 months later, sends chills throughout and makes my eyes well up. I can remember speeding through the Fan, through downtown, into Church Hill, wondering what I would do without her. How would I go on? Who would I talk to? Who would make me smile? I was going through so much and who would be left to be that person I could turn to to say it was going to be ok and to just breath. Just breath. And the sheer ridiculousness of it all hit me. I'd only known her for 4 months, and only a portion of that on a level that could be deemed as a good friendship. But I felt such a driving connection to her that I couldn't shake. Like near her was where I was meant to be, near her I felt whole. And here she was - almost gone.

We spent the next couple of weeks laying out all the cards. She knew all of my demons, I knew all of hers. And at 4am one January morning, everything changed - for the better. I'll never watch Saved by the Bell the same way again.

In the past 10 months, we've done more than some couples do in years. We bought a beautiful house, discussed starting a family, traveled pretty extensively on a tight budget, each changed jobs, and last Friday, got married. We've had more than our share of ups and downs and stress that often feels never-ending. Our time in San Diego could not be described, in the same way that my feelings for her cannot be measured. I can't imagine a day without having her there to come back to. No matter what happens in a day, as long as she's there at the end of it, my life is complete.