If Culture Doesn’t Promote Marriage, That Doesn’t Mean We Can’t

“You and your husband have something special.” the nurse told me as she wheeled me into surgery. I said thank you before she replied, “That’s hard to find these days.”

I didn’t think much of this conversation because 1) I was about to have surgery, so my focus was on something different entirely, and 2) my parents often compliment my husband and me this way. Our parents often say, “You guys really love each other.”

Upon reflection, I recognized the profoundness of this nurse’s words. She only spent a few seconds with my husband and me. She saw one vulnerable moment between us and understood our unique relationship.

Before I left the prep room, my husband and I locked eyes and said I love you. He probably squeezed my hand, and I smiled. We kissed. I’m sure we exchanged other sentiments, but I don’t remember.

What made that exchange so special?

I needed a cystectomy. I had a baseball size cyst on my right ovary, and we couldn’t get pregnant with that kind of complication. Surgery was our only option. While the healthcare workers performed the cystectomy, the doctor would remove any endometriosis he found.

The surgeon used the same scars from my first cystectomy.

Five years ago, I had my first operation at age 22. After more than a year of pain, many doctor visits, and intense exams, modern medicine finally figured out that I had two ovarian cysts, one on…