6 Months

As of yesterday, it has been 6 months since Dr. Williams and company cut me open and put me back together again. It's remarkably hard for me to grasp this right now.

6 months?! Really?

Tonight's story actually goes back to just about a year ago.

I was kneeling in Max's dimly lit living room at the end of a delightful date trying to decide if it was time to tell him about my surgery planning process. We were certainly connected a year ago, but not so woven into each others' lives yet.

Sharing this would be crossing into much more intimate and explicitly long-term territory. It's one thing to bring chicken soup to a date who has a cold. It's entirely different to be invited into the preparation for major orthopedic surgery and long-term recovery processes. These are the kinds of reveals that put all that "I'll always be there for you" pillow talk to the test.

In reality there really wasn't a decision to be made so much as courage to be gathered. It's not like I was going to be able to keep this process outside of his awareness for very long. Even still, there's a difference between "I'm going to do this." and "Will you support me through this?" I was considering putting a lot out there on the line.

Then again, that's what we are about. I made a practice of offering him those fragile, vulnerable parts of myself from the beginning of this relationship. He accepted and used every bit of what I had to offer. This was just a slightly more sizable chunk.

So, with my head on his knee and his hand in my hair I screwed up the courage. I told him about my upcoming appointment and tried to present the situation in a way that allowed him to gracefully decline too much involvement without giving the impression that he was uninvited. Just as he had done every time before (and since), he accepted the invitation and held my vulnerabilities gently in the palm of his hand.



The books and bulletin boards I read when I started contemplating surgery all warned me of the impact it would have on relationships. There was this foreboding sense that some number of the people would fail and/or fall away when things got tough. I'm here to say that has not been my experience what so ever.

Not one single person turned away from me when I asked for help. In fact, I have the privilege of adding several people to my list of caring, supportive friends because of their willing involvement in my recovery process. Love has always been there for me, in whatever manifestation I needed it.