In Sickness and In Health

I know it’s Thanksgiving, but I’m going to combine this occasion with our anniversary.

It’s been 25 years since we made the promise to “have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish all the days of our lives.”

This month we’ve been face-to-face with the in sickness part as I’ve been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. I’ve watched this man step up as a caregiver, literally walking with me, steadying me each step with his arm around me, holding me when I couldn’t carry my own weight.

When I saw my neurologist for the first time, she ordered an additional MRI and wanted it done immediately. I received the call while still in the office. The woman on the phone said they had an opening on November 4th at 9:00 p.m. and asked if that would work. I hesitated. My brain hadn’t had a chance to catch up with everything, and my first thought was—9:00 p.m.? Did I hear that right? Surely they wouldn’t start a two-hour MRI that late at night.
My second thought was—that’s my 25th wedding anniversary.

“Natalie— I think we need to take this.”
The urgency in her voice pulled me out of my daze.
“Oh yes. Right. Absolutely. Let’s take it,” I replied. We wanted the first available, and that was fine with me.

The date was set, and I was thankful. But as soon as I hung up, a nurse was calling me back for bloodwork. They were testing for everything, and they were going to need a lot of blood. All the stress had been building, and my body started trembling—not violently, but definitely not steady enough for bloodwork. The medical team was kind and doing what they could, but they had other patients to see. They offered to reschedule when I felt better. That wasn’t an option.

“Can my husband come in?” I asked in desperation.

“Of course,” the nurse said. “Is he out in the waiting room?”

I nodded, and she sent someone to get him. When J walked in and saw the state I was in, we locked eyes and I saw the concern on his face. “Can you stay here with me and pray with me?” I whispered through tears. Of course he would. He held my hand, and I began to calm down. The nurse started drawing blood and said, “He is your calm,” then smiled. “I love that. You just don’t see that kind of love anymore.”
I know how blessed I am.

So that Tuesday night, November 4th, J drove me to the radiology unit at UC Health. I slipped into a cold hospital gown and listened to the hum and clunk of the MRI while J waited outside the scanner room. A night that should have been candlelight and toasts became fluorescent lights and medical forms.

This wasn’t our first anniversary that was met with adversity. There was the year SJ had surgery and the covid year. This was the ‘in sickness’ we promised, and he lives it out without hesitation.

Since being diagnosed and dealing with flare-ups, J has bought me gifts, made me breakfast every morning, helped schedule appointments, worked remotely from a hospital, and prayed through all of this with me.

But the moment that struck me most wasn’t a grand gesture. It was a simple Sunday morning. J was running sound for service. He got there early, and since I couldn’t drive, Z brought me later. After worship, I got a text asking if I was okay. I texted back, “Yes, I’m near the back row.”
I watched him in the sound booth scanning the congregation. I kept looking at him, waiting for him to find me, and when he finally did, he nodded. It wasn’t a wink or a smile—just a man who wasn’t going to relax until he saw that his bride was okay. When his eyes landed on me, I saw the slightest relief wash over his face.

I know what MS feels like for me. I don’t know what my MS feels like for him. But I do know he will do whatever it takes to keep me safe. Every girl dreams of a knight in shining armor to slay dragons on her behalf, and J is that for me.