I have a man who knows I’m sick.
I have a man who knows I might even be dying. A man who actually knows I am.
I have a man who hates acknowledging that I’m sick…because he knows I hate that.
I have a man who treats me every day like I can kick ass because he knows the push makes me stronger.
I have a guy who knows me.
I have a guy I love.
I have a man who pushes me to the absolute brink sometimes, but who is more dedicated to bringing me back from that brink than he is pushing me to it (most days).
I have a man who, when he knows I am throwing up all day, gets me soup.
I have a man who doesn’t push me to eat when my mouth sores well up into excruciating pain or when the ulcers in my esophagus from radiation get too painful.
I have a man who endures watching me not eat when I am not hungry. Who lets me sleep when I need to; and who encourages me to do all of this because he knows I’m sick; a man who knows that I have a 15 percent chance of living more than five years from now, but also a man who won’t accept that either. He still thinks I’ll live forever. (Evil never dies,right?)
I have a man who, when I am going out and feeling insecure, says things like, “You don’t need to put on makeup to impress anyone, you’re Shauna Goddamn Zamarripa, and that’s all that needs to be said.”
I have a man who, when I fall (out of my own stupidity through medication and acting like I’m 21) and have a black eye and when I feel stupid and useless won’t make me feel stupid and useless. Even when I should.
For all my faults, for all of his, we NEVER give up on each other. Ever.
I have a man who, regardless of where we have been, for where we are, that wakes up every day and tries to be a better man.
I have a man who won’t let go of my hand when he knows I’m mad, but still go to cuddle with him anyway.
I have a man who goes out of his way to make me happy and make me smile.
I have a man who, when I go to a cancer nutrition appointment, wastes NO time in planting us a garden full of everything the nutritionist says I need.
If that isn’t love…real love, I don’t know what is.
I have a man who, regardless of the hell we have put each other through, is down for the ride. I have a man who is made of pure, relentless and perfect gold. And, no matter what issues or problems we have, we always find our way back home.
We have been through hell and back…a million times, but we are figuring it out, a little at a time…everyday. The thing is, when you don’t really LOVE someone, you won’t do that. You’ll cut and run through so much of the shit we have seen each other through.
While we both have a ways to go, and we do, but I also don’t think there is anyone else to navigate this particular situation better than us.
I have a man who doesn’t know it all, but he knows that one most important thing: which is that he loves me, in the best way he can, in the most honest way he can. And truthfully, I don’t think there is anything else more to know.
I have a man who I am eternally grateful for. A man who is all the man I could want, or need. And that’s all I need to know.