Jan was looking at the blog the other day and she was surprised to see that I hadn’t written anything specifically about our 25th anniversary which was Monday, August 20th.
She’s right. Not a word.
Perhaps it’s because I spent that day flat on my back lying in a hospital bed with IV fluid and morphine dripping into my veins. No that’s not it – I was groggy but not completely out of it.
The real reason I haven’t written anything was because I disappointed her and it tears me up everything time I think of it. Instead of smelling the salt air in Halifax, my body decided to play the cruelest of tricks on us. Less than 12 hours before we were set to fly out, the surgeon took a scalpel to all the plans we had made. We were finally set to actually take 2 weeks away from work to have the vacation we’d dreamed about. Halifax, Cape Breton Island and Prince Edward Island. Being together in the great outdoors without a care in the world. Great scenery, good food, new places; it was supposed to be perfect.
Instead, it all went to shit because of a little bit of something that medicine cannot even begin to fathom why it even exists. Jan was sure that work would intrude and something would come up that required my attendance like it has for every planned vacation over the last 15 years. I’d planned everything so that wouldn’t happen. My coworkers had gone out of their way to help make sure that all contingencies were covered. We were free. We were screwed.
Two years ago, my sister died on August 20th. Everything became a blur as we made urgent plans to get to England. Jan stayed behind and never said a word. I made up my mind then and there that our 25th would be memorable. She chose the Maritimes as our destination and I started the planning. Our anniversary dinner would be at “The Press Gang”, one of Halifax’s finest restaurants. Three days to travel up and down the Atlantic coast visiting Lunenberg, Peggy’s Cove and a dozen other spots that we hoped to stumble upon. Then, it was a drive up to Cape Breton for a couple of days in that wild country. Perhaps a whale watching cruise. Check out some of the Acadian culture. Finally, off to Charlottetown for 3 days exploring the unsullied beauty that is Prince Edward Island.
Instead, I spent 5 days in hospital followed by another week of laying around the house while she looked after me. It just isn’t fair.
We’re back to work now but I know that she is disappointed. To come so close to heaven only to be thrown into hell.
She deserves so much for putting up with me for almost 3 decades. I say “next year dear, we’ll try again” but I can see it in her eyes, she doesn’t believe me. Why should she?