A love letter

Tomorrow, Wednesday, June 20th, is my 14th wedding anniversary. Yes, Mr. Pincushion and I have been married a whopping 14 years already (and boyfriend and girlfriend for 7 years prior to marriage)! We've spent almost our entire "adult" life together...amazing really, especially in this day and age. In honor of our anniversary, I am writing this post as a love letter to my hubby. I will try not to make all of you gag, but if you do, I'm sorry. This is a love letter after all.

To Mr. Pincushion, my wonderful husband:

Fourteen years ago, our families and friends gathered together to finally witness our nuptials. I remember that it was a very windy day and my veil was whipping around my head/face and my sister was trying to hold it down. Nanny and Poppy were there to watch their first grandson get married and your father, a wonderful man, was there too. Your parents gave you something to calm your nerves and make you feel better because you were VERY hung over from your bachelor party the night before. Before I knew it, the ceremony was over and the justice of peace announced us "Mr. & Mrs. ____" and that was the beginning of what has been a great marriage so far. We have traveled to many special places together. We have lived on the East coast, the Midwest and now Texas. We have had many laughs along the way but also many sorrows starting with the sudden and devastating loss of your father. Then came the morning I woke up completely paralyzed on the right side of my body. One of the first thoughts that came to my mind on that terrible morning was that I had to remain calm, not for me but for you. I didn't want to get you freaked out, even though inside I was terrified. You were fabulous during my time in the hospital, keeping me company and being supportive during those grueling medical treatments, even though you are squeamish. Then when I had to stay at the in-patient rehab hospital for weeks and weeks, you continued to be my rock, visiting me whenever you could, being my advocate, and helping me with things that no husband should have to ever do. You even snuck our wonderful poochie into the hospital so I could see her because I missed her so. When I came home, you drove me around for six or seven months because I still couldn't, even when you didn't want to. Then when I was finally officially diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, you did not waiver in your love & commitment to me. I know there are many men, who if given the same terrible news about their spouse, would have left out of fear of the unknown and the responsibility of possibly being the caregiver. But not you! Years later when we thought that we had been through the worst, then came my very sudden diagnosis of breast cancer. This time I could not remain calm for you but as I cried hysterically in your arms, you remained brave, hugged me and simply said "we will get through this too." Once again, you took care of me whether I was hugging the toilet or having an emotional breakdown. And in the face of it all, you had the strength and determination to finish writing that dam dissertation, finally becoming "Dr." Pincushion. I am so very, very proud of you! After nearly twenty years of being together, I still love being with you. You continue to make me laugh with your great sense of humor. You are just so darn easy to get a long with (for the most part). And even though you have a lot less hair than you did when I first met you so long ago, I still think you're hot! You had me from the minute we sat across the table winking at each other during a game of "Cops & Robbers." I can't wait to see where we end up living next and what adventures we go through over the next chapter of our lives. As long as we have each other, life will be good!

I love you!
Mrs. Pincushion

Retail therapy

Lately, I've been doing a fair amount of shopping and have actually been enjoying myself! Usually, I don't like to go clothes shopping because I rarely find things that I really like and that fit me well. More often than not, I quickly become bored and frustrated if I have to try on more than five items which then usually leads me to give up and leave empty handed. However, I had an extra incentive to do some retail therapy...my cousin's upcoming nuptials in Maine. I wanted to find a couple of cute inexpensive outfits for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. Fortunately, I was successful and am looking forward to showing them off. Plus, I finally bought a new watch as mine fell apart almost a year ago. The most exciting part about my latest shopping experience was that most of my purchases were seriously discounted!

Off the smoothie wagon

After my cancer diagnosis, I was all gangbusters about green smoothies. When I first started making them, I had convinced myself that I was going to have at least one if not two a day. Unfortunately, like many of my well-intentioned plans, I went from having one a day to one every other day to finally having one a week if I'm lucky. It's not that they're bad tasting. In fact, they're quite yummy tasting. It's just that they're kind of a pain in the butt to make and frankly, I'm just too lazy to do it on a regular basis. Lately, more often than not, the bag of organic spinach just sits wasting away in my refrigerator until it resembles something out of a science project.

Dani

I recently lost a dear friend to lung cancer. I had known Dani for at least 30 years. She was my hairdresser when I was growing up in CA; in fact, she was still regularly cutting my father's hair until a few months ago. Dani will always hold a special place in my heart. When I was in the throes of my rebellious high school phase, I told her I wanted to dye my long hair magenta. Dani was immediately on-board. She grinned devilishly and said "Let's do it!" I will always remember walking through the front door of my house and greeting my father with my shocking magenta hair. Thankfully, he was very cool about it. After the pink hair came the bleached blonde, Annie Lenox haircut. Once again, Dani did her magic and I was transformed.

After many years without contact, we reconnected via email. I was going through my cancer treatments and Dani had just recently started hers. Her cancer was already at stage 4 and spreading, yet she would write me the sweetest emails full of compliments and encouragement. Fortunately, I got to visit her about three months before she died. I know she was scared but she always managed to sound positive, putting up a brave front despite being in terrible pain. When she emailed me to say her final goodbye, she wrote about how blessed her life had been and how happy she was that I was doing well. Her words reduced me to a wailing, blubbery mess... just ask Mr. Pincushion. I will always treasure that last email. Dani was a wonderful woman with a heart of gold until the very end.

To tell or not to tell?

When recruiters or hiring managers ask me what I've been doing since I last worked in 2010, should I tell the truth and explain that I was in treatment for cancer? This is a question that has been weighing heavily on my mind since restarting my job search. Part of me says hell yeah because while it was a horrific time for me, I'm proud of the way I handled it and proud that I beat it. So why shouldn't I tell potential employers. It shows that I have character, that I am strong and I can handle anything! But the other part of me says no, don't say a word about it. I am a human resources professional and unfortunately, I know how other HR professionals and business people think. It's all about the bottom line and how much money I could cost them. These people might be impressed with my bravery and resiliency but let's face it. I could potentially be an expensive employee because cancer isn't cheap. Immediately what will go through their minds is: What if the cancer comes back? Will she be able to work and if not, for how long will she be gone? How will this effect the company's insurance premiums? So after talking to several people about my dilemma, including a professional at a local cancer organization, I have decided that the smart thing to do is to keep silent. So when people ask me what I've been doing for the last two years, I will simply say I was a "homemaker" and leave it at that.