It’s 3:00pm and Michelle will be home soon. It has been a mild December day, so I step outside and have a smoke. Little did I know it would be the last cigarette I will ever smoke. I followed my afternoon ritual - after the smoke, I went inside and spritzed my jacket with S.O.S. and then took a shower. Voilà! I am clean and new and ready for the evening, with Michelle none the wiser.
After she gets home, we decide to go out for dinner. While splitting a hamburger, Michelle tells me about her day and the job she’s doing in Cleveland and goes on about a few other things. I enjoy these times she vents about work. Truth be told, I am an incredibly lucky man. (I have had a number of extraordinary women in my life. I deserved none of them and before I quit drinking, hurt all of them. My first wife was a wonderful woman who endured me until I made it unendurable. To this day, she remains an incredible woman who unselfishly put the needs of our children ahead of her feelings, and managed to help maintain my position with my kids when she easily could have destroyed it. We remain incredibly close, now both remarried and happy for each others lives. I love her new husband, she my wife.
Michelle has seen me through my worst and been a significant part of making me into a much better man. We share a spiritual quest that goes with our spiritual love. We are incredibly thankful for God in our lives, and together we make each other better people than we were individually. She is a tireless worker and a good steward of our lives. I need to add my Mom to the list of incredible women. She deserves more words than I can fill in this blog, she’s a saint. I could wax poetically about my daughter, who has grown into a beautiful woman and doting mother. Suffice to say, I am an incredibly blessed man. Anyway, as Michelle and I chatted, she looked at me after a while and said “You don’t look very good. This table has more color than you do.”
I knew she was right. As I sat there, I didn’t feel very good at all. I ached. I felt like I had a low grade virus and felt clammy. I’m pretty honest with myself in these matters - not always so with her - but I had to admit she was right. I felt terrible. “You’re right - I don't feel very good. If I don't feel better in the morning, I will go to Urgent Care and get checked out.”
That was it. Michelle and I went home after dinner. As we set around watching television, I thought about what she'd said earlier. Frankly I didn't feel very good. I remember thinking to myself, that I guess I'll probably have to skip my morning meeting and had to urgent care. When we went to bed that evening, I didn't feel particularly great, but I also felt I would be fine.
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