44

I have the privilege of turning 44 tomorrow. I am especially thankful because continued birthdays were briefly on the bubble for me. I was only 36 when I was officially diagnosed with breast cancer. Hearing my medical team describe my survival as nothing short of miraculous was humbling and unexpected. Especially since none of them adequately expressed in the midst of surgery and treatment how significantly the odds were stacked against me.

I have ALWAYS loved celebrating my birthday! A day just for me? To celebrate me? For people who love me to adorn me with gifts, only eat my very favorite foods, and sing in exultation of my very existence? Absolutely!

Of course we also celebrate the Roman birthday. Its not just a day. When I was younger I adhered to the week long celebration. Since surviving cancer, we take the month, thank you very much!

But what is a birthday without the people to do the exalting? People reading this may start to become weary of me saying how much I love my husband. I’m not sorry. I really love him. We’ve made a beautiful life together. Through years of my careful training and molding, he has become the best birthday celebrant in existence.

So, imagine my shock when he decided we needed to spend my 43rd birthday in the hospital! One year ago was the start of this round of Mark needing dialysis treatment.

When someone first starts hemodialysis, they usually have a tunneled permanent hemodialysis catheter(perm cath) inserted in their neck or chest as a treatment access. This is what the dialysis clinic uses to clean a person’s blood until they have a more permanent access placed elsewhere in there body. More on that another day. Its my birthday!

So, there we are, sitting at the office on August 8th for Mark to get his perm cath inserted. We sat in the waiting area after our obligatory procedure/hospital visit selfie. A nurse, who clearly had more experience in her little finger than most nurses will have in their life time, called Mark back. He asked if I could come sit with him for a few minutes and help him change. She assured him it would over before he knew it, and they would bring me back as soon as the cath was in.

When the nurse popped around the wall 11 short minutes later I assumed the doctor must be working with speedy efficiency. Incorrect. She was coming to get me because they were unsuccessful and he was increasingly panicked.

Apparently, Mark’s blood pressure tanked as they were starting the procedure and determined in-office was not going to work. Not to worry, though! They were scheduling us for the very first surgery appointment at the hospital the following morning, my birthday.

Mark felt terrible. He apologized over and over. I felt terrible that he felt terrible. He had been so sick he hadn’t been able to plan anything or buy me a present. Not to mention he was struggling with all of the sudden transition in his life and worrying about our new financial situation.

I reminded him he is the best birthday present and it was way more important to have him with me. He knows I mean that with my whole heart. He’s still a human.

This is where that village kicks in. The rest of the fam was definitely ready to step up and make sure I felt as loved as usual. To be fair, my parents made me this way. It is the least they can do to spoil me on my birthday. So, we got to the hospital at the crack of dawn, Mark again posed for his obligatory selfie, behaved to get his new equipment installed, and I took him home so he could rest for a bit.

We went to my parent’s house for dinner and cake and they adorned me with the finest of prezzies!