Chapter Two

High C

Call me a little old fashioned, but Mary has been my only sexual partner; and I have been the only one for her. There’s a great deal of safety in the practice. I’m kind of a germ freak. I can eat a sandwich with mud and grease on my hands, but I can’t eat or drink from someone else’s used food. It’s the thought of getting sick with someone’s hibijibi’s that gets me the most. The only disadvantage of being paired for life—and beyond—is the fact that young Christian newlyweds might take a little longer to figure out the nuances of a sexual relationship than someone trained by a pro. Wow, that thought makes me shudder.
It is perhaps our old fashioned nature that has kept our intimate relationship completely invisible from our children. Obviously they know we’ve had sex. Some of them have children of their own. We’ve covered the birds and the bees talk, but we’ve never been open about the deeper love we share. We are rarely physical in their presence, and when we are, they give us the, yuck, that’s gross, attitude. They know we love each other by the way we treat one another, but they need to know our love is way beyond mutual love and respect. We’re still intimate.
Well kids, my family and marriage professor says it’s healthy for you to know your parents still love each other—and that we still actively participate in the intimate tender nature of our marriage—and you know those times you tried to come into our bedroom and the door was locked. Yep, even though we said come in, we knew you couldn’t because the door was locked. Oh boy! Mary’s going to kill me for that. There was the one time Daniel pulled the key off the door frame and opened the locked door. Yessiree, there was some scrambling going on in our room.
It probably took the first fifteen years of our marriage to finally get really good at the intimacy part of our marriage. The first five years were a mess because of the pregnancy, nursing baby Jake; pregnancy, nursing baby Daniel; pregnancy nursing babies Chrissy and Austin. Four children, four years and younger is proof we understood the multiply and replenish the earth part. The next five years were so crazy with kids, dirty diapers, dirty house, dirty cloths, that when the end of the day came Mary had little energy left for me. And the next few years are a story for another time. The fact is; if Mary was willing, it wasn’t hard to take care of my needs. The problem was the hit and miss ability to fulfill her needs. I suppose it would have been nice if someone we loved and trusted could have given us some good advice. These days there are decent books you can read, without feeling dirty, that can explain those intimate details that we didn’t understand. To make a long story shorter, and not to embarrass Mary any more than I already have, we’ve learned to make up for those lost years. The intimate part of our relationship has grown from infancy to maturity and has become an important part of our love. I’ve become proficient at helping Mary hit high C, and the last several years have been wonderfully fulfilling, tender, and scheduled on a weekly basis.

June 13, 2010
It was our date night last night; the night we lock the bedroom door. We talked about the lump again. Because of its irregular shape it does cause me some concern. Mary said she would schedule a mammogram and a colonoscopy this week and she’s still not too excited about it.

It was Mary’s idea to put us on a weekly schedule. I don’t know why we hadn’t thought of it years earlier. It was my first prostate infection at about forty-three that slowed my sex drive. I was on and off sulfa drugs so long that everything changed. While I was slowing down Mary was speeding up. It wasn’t like we needed Viagra or anything; it was just the nature of prolonged drug and prostate interaction that slowed down my libido. It was hard on Mary because she felt like she was always the instigator of our intimacy. She felt like I didn’t care anymore. We’ve both put on an extra pound or two, added a few wrinkles; we’re not the same young twenty something year-olds we were on our honeymoon night, so naturally there was a little distance in the intimacy that was resolved with a simple little tune up by Mary. Date night is now my favorite night of the week.

June 30, 2010
Mary finally went into see our family practitioner today. Barbara immediately scheduled a mammogram for her and said they might do a biopsy if they felt it was necessary.

July 6, 2010
Mary was sore. They did a needle biopsy in several places. The mammogram was of no use because the lump was so far toward her arm pit. The ultrasound was the most useful and the radiologist was not too concerned. He had contemplated just keeping a close eye on it over the next six months but changed his mind. We will not get the results for about eight or nine work days. Next week sometime.

Through our nearly thirty years together I had always pictured me as the weak genetic link in our marriage. I have the BRCA2 gene; the one known to cause breast cancer in women and an increased occurrence of prostate cancer in men. I’ve already had my share of prostate trouble, so naturally between that, and the long road of hard miles I’ve put on my old body, I didn’t figure Mary would be the one to get sick. I’ve never been much of a romantic—Mary would be the first to agree—but the other day I wrote her a poem.

Of all the faces, and all the places, this world has let me see,
there’s only one place, and especially one face, that I would rather see.

From the laugh, the smile, the touch and style, to the finest strand of hair,
it would be your grace, your beautiful face, that makes me want to stare.

If I could choose, from every women, and do it all again,
I’d stick with the girl, who made my toes curl, and became my very best friend.

Through work and play, a roll in the hay, when we lock the bedroom door,
life became much more, couldn’t ask for more, than to be with my girl Mary.