In Sickness And In Health

On October 13, 2001, basically one month after 9/11, my husband and I exchanged wedding vows in a very traditional, evening ceremony. I was nervous but very excited, and said my vows quickly. The weight of the words was not apparent to me at the time. The reverend prompted my husband and me what to say, we said it, the rings were exchanged, and a kiss sealed the deal.

Little did we know that I would be delusional in the nut hut just three months later. Three months of newlywed bliss before we had to start facing a very serious threat to our marriage. When a spouse has a mental disorder, it can place an incredible burden on the other partner. Many, many marriages like this don't make it. Yet mine has. How? Why?

Well, I guess I'll say right of the bat that my husband is loyal by nature. That certainly helps matters. But it goes much deeper than that. I can say he loves me, and yes, that's true. And it's very important. Yet perhaps the key thing that came into play when I got sick was my husband remembered the vows he took -- and that he meant them when he said them. For better or for worse. For richer or for poorer. In sickness and in health.

When I got sick, my husband had to move into a great responsibility mode, in essence become my caregiver in many, many ways. Financial manager is a no-brainer. He handles all those aspects. But more importantly, he keeps me focused on current affairs, keeps me interested in what is going on in my surroundings. He gets me out to hockey games, restaurants, art shows, music events. He even reminds me every night to brush my teeth.

And perhaps the most important thing he does is remind me to take my medicine. Every night.

"Honey, have you taken your pills?" he asks. And sometimes I have, but many times I forgot. More times than I'm comfortable with acknowledging. And when Melissa doesn't take her pills, unpleasant things can happen. And friends, I don't want to go there.

When I was locked up in the mental wards, his daily visits were the only bright spot of my day. Once -- and only once -- was he late for visiting hours and I got hysterical while I waited. When he finally arrived I ran into his arms, sobbing and begging him to never be late again. And he never was. During my last hospitalization, he slipped in some nicotene gum to me -- a true lifesaver -- and I giggled like a school girl. God bless my husband. He knows me so well.

We celebrated 12 years of marriage last October and are moving along day by day. Tonight I am writing in the parlor where a beautiful fire he made for me burns in the fireplace. I feel safe and loved. And I don't take this for granted. I love you honey. Now and forever.