I’m up late trying to resolve technology issues, frustrated.

But I’m thinking about Anne.

Today was my sweet bride’s birthday.

Tomorrow she goes in for surgery to remove both breasts. Every time I think about it I well up with tears. Hard.

As I’ve been waiting for my callback from the Microsoft tech guy, I thought of the word…

Courage.

That’s what Anne has displayed. Every step. Like today, when she finished having some sort of radioactive dye shot into her left side to make it easier for the surgeon to see stuff tomorrow. Burned, she said. Yet the radiologist kept asking in perplexed manner, “you’re okay?” As if he expected her to hit him, wail in pain, or curse like a sailor.

I’ve heard Anne mention “war” the past few days in processing what’s ahead. Her metaphor has really stuck with me.

In war, you march on. Towards the enemy. To the battle front.  No matter how dog-tired, discouraged, scared, or famished you are.

That’s courage. And I like the Oxford dictionary’s nuanced definitions…

“The ability to do something that frightens one.”  

and…

“Strength in the face of pain or grief.”

That’s Anne.

Happy birthday to my courageous wife. You’re taking no captives in this fight with cancer.

We’re marching with you. I’m marching with you, sweetheart.

With love,

Hubby