That’s right! Today is 13 weeks since the successful surgery and double mastectomy of our beloved Christyna! I chose a picture from (roughly) one year ago. Those were the days! We were both so full of youth and vigor, unbridled with the concerns of surgeries, and pre-marriage (though we were at a wedding that was not our own). Little did we know then that Christyna and myself would be living together in wedded “bliss.” Sure, we had ideas and very loose plans to be living together within a couple years last October, but how things metastasized was most definitely not the plan. Just to catch everyone up, let’s do a retrospective.

I was living in New Jersey and Christyna was in Houston. We were in an online seminar together when she suggested we sign up for the next one and “co-locate” for it. I had a confession to cough up first. I had been crushing on her from afar most of the year of the seminar. She said we probably weren’t compatible and looking for the same thing, but we wouldn’t know unless we explore it. This was late 2022, I think. Time flies! We had a FaceTime date or three and I bought a plane ticket to have a real-in-person date. Christyna had trouble looking at me. I already knew I loved her.

We flew back and forth for the next chunk of time, me more often coming to Houston. We made space in each other’s lives and houses for each other. I made her art and she made space for my suits. I correctly surmised that she loved me and would do almost anything I asked of her. She was a divorcee and I didn’t want to push her into anything. I told her that if we were going to get married, she’d have to ask me so I knew it was real. I created some weird stipulations to said proposal like a rainbow farting unicorn and Chuck Norris riding it and such and such. Christyna delivered the Chick Norris part and presented me with a ring and a Chuck Norris branded bottle of water. I told you I knew I loved her very early on.

Fast forward to February 2025. Christyna flew to NJ to help me pack up a U-Haul storage box and my car. We hit the road and pulled into Houston March 1, 2025. We had decided that on April 1 we would get “hitched by hook or by crook.” March 31st I broke my arm and the next day we got married. Judge Fran was our officiant. I got  operated on and became non-OEM the next Monday, April 7th. Thus began my recovery and rehab journey. On my 3 month check-in with the surgeon, I was released from his care and we went to Christyna’s appointment the next building over. She had a biopsy that day for some suspicious lump in her breast.

The stupid lump was breast cancer, as I’ve shared before. It was a rare type in that it was so vanilla, boring, slow growing, and easy to treat that no one was concerned. Christyna had some time to think about, discuss, and explore treatments. July 10th was her surgery day. She had a “Bye-Bye Boobies” party with all the girls (and their girls, if you catch my drift) just before. We have been surrounded by love and care for the last 13 weeks!

Then there has been the recovery process since the surgery. There was 5 weeks of strict rest and being very house-bound. Christyna’s body does not like being operated on. The wounds and incisions have done their own thing and been a pain in my butt. They have not been a pain in Christyna’s butt, just every other part of her. Her butt remains unscathed, thank goodness. She is in her hyperbaric chamber treatment as I compose this. She is healing so well! I have to time my waxing about her butt to when she won’t find out about it until hours later. Such is my life. 

During the 5-weeks of being pretty much chair bound, she put on weight. None of the medical teams were worried. She’s dropping it precipitously now. Last night she looked in the mirror before coming to bed, then ran to me crying. There are big, dark stretch marks on her abdomen. She thinks they are ugly. I noticed them 8ish weeks ago in the wound care. I’m intimately acquainted with her body. I let her cry for a couple minutes so that she could get the big upset out before I spoke. “Do you know what they call scars?” I asked her. “No,” Christyna replied. “They call scars tattoos for the brave. Those marks are no different than the scar on my arm. They are a reminder of our journey.” “You don’t think they’re ugly?” She asked sheepishly. “No. I’m going to hug you and kiss you all the same if they weren’t there. You’re stuck with me through it all.” I then read her more of Cannery Row by John Steinbeck. She falls asleep with my voice and Steinbeck’s prose.

I made stuffed acorn squash this past Sunday. Christyna ate it 4 consecutive days, and asked last night when can I make more! We have a gala to attend tonight, symphony tomorrow with one of her oldest friends, and she has something on Saturday. I told her that I can do it this weekend if she wants. The jury is out deliberating that. We get to get dressed up multiple times in the next couple days, like in the picture!

It’s been 6 months since my surgery and 13 weeks since hers. We have started the rest of our lives together in some, how would you say, challenging circumstances. Thank goodness for community and support of the people who love us! You all have been with us on this journey. I get the intimate, quiet, and sometimes contentious times. You get the rest! Keep us in your thoughts, prayers, and intentions. The pull of such powerful and joyful people are making this period of healing miraculous!

YOU are making this time miraculous and miracle filled. Thank you. We can’t do it without you. 

You’re caught up and I have a request. I request you pull for one more unrelated miracle- that the Cubs go all the way! That is me being greedy. Hey, all y’all’s have been so generous this far, who am I to not take advantage of that generosity for a personal joy!? 

Thank you and with great love,

Ryan

PS. Don’t get breast cancer for the hyperbaric chamber treatments that may be covered by insurance. Just don’t. <wink, wink>