Bedside Bride

The leftover aroma of wedding clung to her nurse's uniform. A veil of bridal bliss curled within her locks. Pearled earrings daintily dabbed her lobes as her ring reflected the ceilings - as white as white can be.
She was just barely a bride, thrust back into this world of agony-a place we call Ketamine Alley. It's where the worst of pain patients receive infusions for four hours a day, five days a week for two weeks. I was in Bed number One.

Her cheeks were flush with a honeymoon m so fresh they flushed her cheeks to a radiant peach.

I watched her dangled curls sweep across my chart. Her name was Catherine. A regal name that fit her well. I could see her eating salmon at her rehearsal dinner; Savoring tiny bites to accommodate her elegant frame.

But that was then. As it usually is. A then that slowly passes with time, taking us to a place we ache to reach.

My husband and I have weathered fourteen beautiful years. Ok, twelve that were beautiful. Two that we might exchange fora smoother ride. But our life alone we would not change at all.

I had a premonition a couple of years ago that something might change in my health. Something larger than a bouquet to toss to a friend. Something longer than a three course meal or a five layered cake. Although my girlfriend did give me succulents. If you ever have a friend in need of a pick-me-up, give them succulents in a small pot and a ribbon tied with a note. It will make her smile with gratitude, humor and glee. They need very little care, and have the personalities of Despicable Me's if they were plants.

My friends have been diamonds. The newly-wedded nurse is a reminder to myself that life is still new to some.

I will watch her as she gracefully shifts from bedside to bedside. An angel among us. A reminder that God is good. That we are all blessed in our own little ways. Today she will remind me once again that no matter what we endure, life does go on. People fall in love and get married. Babies are born - and others gently pass to make room in the handicapped spaces for those like me.

Now it is my goal to survive with a grace worthy of this opportunity. To see the light behind the veil. The wisp of hair clung to the pearl upon an ear. And hear the music played by God when an angel makes room above for more. And I will breathe and thank him for this precious day. When a bride walks by my bed each day.