Almost doesn't count

Hive, before I start my recaps, there is something very important I need to share with you, because it completely shaped my wedding. There is no easy way to for me to say this, so I’ll just dive in. My wedding day was everything I’ve ever wanted, and I couldn’t have asked for anything better. But it almost didn’t happen…

Six months before our wedding date, I started getting inexplicably sick. It started with a mystery tooth abscess, which even my dentist could not explain because I’ve never even had so much as a cavity in my life. I had to get a root canal, which at the time seemed like the Armageddon (I’m strangely obsessed with teeth and have always considered my smile one of my best features). To ward off further infection, I was put on ten days of antibiotics. A few days after starting treatment, I started getting worse and vomiting on a daily basis but was told that this was probably a side effect of the strong antibiotics I was on. I finished the course and waited to get better; I didn’t. A week went by and I went to a walk-in clinic because of my worsening symptoms. After spending all of two minutes in the doctor’s office and barely having enough time to take off my coat, he declared that I had sinusitis and prescribed me ten more days of antibiotics. The more medicine I took, the worse I got and by the end of the second course of antibiotics, I was sicker than I was when I first started. All I remember of my Valentine’s date this year was violently throwing up the remnants of our wine and chocolate filled date while poor Mr. Waterfall held back my hair. 

A few weeks went by with no sign of improvement, and my parents, disappointed in the public Quebec health system, insisted on taking me to a private clinic. After 1000$ worth of tests, including two CT scans, I was told that I had sinusitis still: 3 more weeks of antibiotics, this time coupled with steroids.  I continued taking the medicine even though I knew I was getting worse, not better. I had high fevers on a daily basis, was emaciated from not being able to keep anything down, and so exhausted that just getting out of bed in the morning seemed like an Odyssey. The simple act of bathing became so difficult that it often required the help of my doting fiancé. At the same time, my boss thought it was a great idea to leave on vacation and leave me in charge of the firm. While he tanned on sandy beaches, I went to court with a 39 degree fever (103 Fahrenheit) and WON - no doubt a testament to my lawyer skillz ;).

My parents and Mr. Waterfall finally had enough and forced me to go to the ER. For the first time in months, I got a doctor who actually tried to figure out what was wrong with me instead of just giving me more pills to pop. He referred me to a colleague who specialized in infectious diseases. Overnight, my life became an episode of House. I was hospitalized and poked and prodded at every turn; every inch of my body examined with X-rays, echo’s, ultrasounds and CT scans. They took so much blood for tests that by the end, they had to use the veins in my hands because all the veins in my arms had been exhausted. I was tested for every disease known to man, from HIV to LUPUS to everything in between. That’s when I heard the scariest words in the English language: 

“We think you might have cancer.”

Cancer: the disease that we still haven’t found a cure for. Cancer: the disease that took both of my grandparents. Cancer. Everyone around me kept a brave face, but every time someone left the room, they returned with swollen, puffy eyes from crying, the same way I had while I cared for Nanny Blogger years before. For the first time in my life, I got my atheist father to pray. 

The doctors decided to perform a liver biopsy to confirm. I remember lying on the procedure table while the doctor repeated the words, sterile like the room I was in: cancer this, cancer that. When I felt the biopsy needle pierce my skin I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I’m not ready! I sobbed. Ow! The pinch not-so-gently reassuring me that I definitely wasn’t dreaming, this was my very real nightmare. While we waited for the results, I mourned. I mourned first the inevitable loss of my gorgeous hair, then the loss of all the firsts that I wouldn’t get to have with my almost-husband. I mourned the lifetime we had planned together but wouldn’t get to share. I mourned. At twenty seven years old, I had barely lived, my whole life wasted cautiously working toward the future, a future that probably wouldn’t come…  I made my parents promise that no matter what, I could still have my wedding, could still marry my best friend and twirl around under that magical chandelier like I had dreamed about for so long. I joked that my dress was poofy enough that I could strap on an IV underneath it and nobody would notice. I was going to marry Mr. Waterfall, even if I had to roll down the aisle in a wheelchair. All the little details that had made me lose sleep until then suddenly seemed so trivial. All that we needed was the two of us and a priest, everything else was bonus. 

In the end, it wasn’t cancer, and here we are, months later, and they still don’t know WHAT it is. I’ve had 1 echocardiogram, 2 ultrasounds, 3 X-Rays, 4 CT scans, 5 biopsies and almost daily blood tests, I’ve lost 30 pounds and my job, but I’ve gained more wisdom and perspective than I could have gained in a lifetime. I valued my wedding so much more simply because it almost didn’t happen. My dress ripped repeatedly from people stepping on it and I laughed because after all, I got to WEAR my dress, no IV necessary. I actually collapsed once during the reception, and consider it a personal victory that I collapsed ONLY once.No matter what went wrong that day, I kept reminding myself: at least I don't have cancer.

The point of this post is to give hope to any Bees out there who might be struggling with adversity, or facing health issues of their own. The point is for all those type-A Monica-Charlotte-Blair brides like myself to keep reminding yourself what a blessing it is to be able to have a wedding, and that it really doesn’t matter if you don’t find the exact shade of cobalt bluethat you had in mind. What truly matters is the commitment you’re making to your significant other, everything else is simply cake ;)

To my amazing husband, I want to say thank you, for truly being there for better or worse, in sickness and health, before we had even spoken those vows out loud. I love you more than ever.  In the middle of our first dance, Mr. Waterfall gently said “look up baby, we’re under your chandelier” and as we gently swayed to our song, and I felt the arms of my brand new husband envelopping me, I quietly whispered "thank you".

our first dance/ personal photo