An Inconvenient Tumor

This is my 101st post. I can't even believe it. It's all been such a whirlwind since last April.

How do I commemorate the hundredth (+1) post? If this blog were a TV show, we might do a musical special. If this were a magazine, we might do a recap of the last 100 posts high- and low-lights. If this were a podcast, we might do a "Best Of" special.

But this blog isn't any of those. In fact, this blog wasn't meant to get started at all. Just over six months ago, after getting laid off from my advertising agency, I wanted to start a food blog. Bryan and I even moved halogen lights into our kitchen to effectively capture photos of ingredients, prep and execution of our (in our opinion) delicious  homemade meals. Bryan was supposed to come up with a catchy blog title (one of his many wonderful talents) and I was going to write about cooking. 

Then Bryan was diagnosed with a brain tumor and, as you know, the rest is history.

A friend mentioned that I should read back over all of the posts that I've written, just to see how the blog has grown and changed, etc. The fact is, I don't need to do that. I lived it. And honestly, there are some parts I don't want to remember or re-live. Terribly sad posts like "The Nights Are The Worst" and, more recently, "Pain," hold feelings and emotions that I don't need to bring back to the surface. The fact is that everything that I've written in this blog has been so real and so raw that some things I just can't go back and experience again. Just reading about it is too much. But for every sad post, there are numerous ones about Bryan's improvement, about the strength of our relationship and about the love our of family and friends that have gotten us through this crazy time. And those are the posts that I want to focus on and move forward with in the future.

Bryan and I had a self-proclaimed "date night" tonight and went back to Pace, one of our favorite restaurants in Los Angeles. I say we went "back" because we hadn't been there since pre-diagnosis days. The ambiance is dark and romantic, the aisles between tables are narrow and the atmosphere is loud and crowded, so with Bryan's over-stimulation, balance and coordination issues, it would be a disaster waiting to happen. However, he's been doing so well that tonight he felt like going back to Pace as a celebration of sorts. With the exception of a few slight ankle twists on the uneven Spanish tile (Bryan wasn't the only one; I almost took a header in my heels), we just took it slow and he did great. We brought a nice bottle of nice wine we received as a wedding gift, ordered our favorite meals and just enjoyed a wonderful night out together. It reminded us of "the old days," as simply being out and about and even getting dressed up was so incredibly nice. Many moons ago, we used to have "date nights" where we would both get ready in separate bedrooms and then "meet" each other in our living room. It was our way of recreating the wonderful dates that we had before we moved in together or got engaged. Some may call it cheesy but both of us loved getting that first look of the other dressed so sharply and ready for a wonderful night out together. Tonight was no exception, and with the only difference being that I had to help Bryan with his ankle brace and buttoning up his shirt, he did all the "prep" work himself. That was incredibly romantic in and of itself, and gave us another glimpse back to our "normal" lives.

I hate to overuse the word, but as I think back over the past six months, we redefined normal many, many times for two 30 year-olds. A cancer diagnosis isn't normal. Radiation and chemotherapy aren't normal. Severe reductions in body functionality aren't normal. Testing out two walkers, a crutch, an AFO, a wheelchair and ultimately an air cast isn't normal. Worrying about your husband falling while standing at the end of the aisle during your wedding ceremony isn't normal. Having a bedside urinal isn't normal. Being hospitalized for four days for extreme stress isn't normal.

You get the idea.

But for all the abnormal times, the one thing that stayed (and stays) constant is Bryan's and my love and commitment to each other. We never thought it could get stronger, but it has. It's beyond unbreakable now, as there's truly no apt description for how strong we are as a couple. Some of our friends say to us "oh, you've only been married for a few months. You're so new to marriage. You'll see what happens in the next few years and then you'll feel like a married couple."

The fact is, they don't get it.

I just sigh and shake my head at these people, because the trials and tribulations Bryan and I have experienced over the past six months is more than our friends will (hopefully) experience in 50+ years of marriage. I would never wish this on any of our friends, but it's amazing to us that people look at Bryan and I and think that we don't know what marriage is about. My mother-in-law gave me a beautiful book of tales of marriage as told by people who have been married for 50 years or more. Honestly, I feel like Bryan and I could write an entire chapter in that book about love, dedication, patience, support and laughing your way through hard times that would give a lot of people perspective in their own relationships. But maybe I don't have to write a chapter about it, because I just wrote 100 blog posts about it.

As we move into the 101+ post range, I'm hoping for nothing but positivity (although we all have our moments!) and continued progress. There will be news about Bryan's fundraiser (scheduled for either late November or early December; finalized date/venue to be announced in the next week or two), news about Bryan's MRIs, hopefully news about both our job searches, and overall silly anecdotes and observations about our daily lives. Maybe I'll even be able to throw in a recipe or two! Hopefully that's not too boring, but I'm personally thrilled to take a break from writing what seemed like medical journals.

So to everyone who has followed along our journey for the past 100 blog posts, thank you so much for reading. This really started out as my personal journal and forum for updating family and friends on Bryan's progress. However, because of all of you (over 250,000 of you! WOW!), it's has turned into so, so, so much more. Your encouragement and thoughts and cheers root us on every day, and we couldn't do it without you. Bryan and I both thank you for that.

Here's to many more good times and interesting stories.

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