Don't Stop Believing

…Tyler POV…

Don't stop believing in yourself, no matter what happens.

This is what I repeat in my head over and over as four hours have now passed; the next four hours seem like it is only total agony as we wait in anticipation.

The fear that I felt four hours ago has not changed but for a moment. I am still terrified, and I am shocked to horror at what the outcome might be. Yes, I still fear that I will not come back as soon as they put me under. One cannot help but feel this; it is just human; we think the worst before the best even happens.

But yes, time has been going by faster than we would have wanted, time spent with bad memories and, do I even dare to say, regrets.

We got married three months ago today; Jenna has not said a word, I would love to believe that she has not forgotten, yet I know that we both have so much on our mind at present. But yes, three months ago, we stood across from each other, on literally the hottest freaking day of the year in the blazing sun. She cried her eyes out while I just claimed that mine were just 'sweating,' and we all laughed and then recited our vows. In sickness and in health. Through good times and bad. Till death do us part.

I know in both of our minds that those things were long distant issues that we wouldn't need to face for decades, if ever. They were just things you say at a wedding for tradition. We knew we could face them if we needed to, but in the joy and comfort of that special and loving day, they seemed so distant that neither of us could grasp the importance of those promises.

Less than three months later, I am disappointed; I find myself in that ‘sickness and health’ moment, which I knew it is hard for Jenna to handle. The thought of facing what was happening to me was scary and overwhelming. When the prognosis came back and the treatment options looked good, we both breathed a sigh of relief.

Somewhere along the way, maybe it was the look in my Doctor's eyes; I knew I was in trouble. Long before the words were ever uttered to me by the Doctor, I knew that is where we were heading. I kept telling her that that's where I was going to end up, and she lovingly and patiently tried to reassure me that things would be okay. That something would work.

She held me when the fear became depression. She never dropped her positive attitude, she always found a way to accept my fear and my negative ways and let me feel heard, but she held me up with her positivity and hoped through the darkest moments.

For the last four hours, she sat in silence with me so many times and just let me cry it out. She held my hand. She told me everything would be okay. She promised she would be there for me through the whole thing, and she took the brunt of my anger, confusion, and sadness that my life had somehow brought me down this path that I desperately didn't want to be on.

Not only now for this past four hours, but for the past three months of our marriage, and even then for the time that we knew each other, she always did her best to try and let me feel what I was feeling, but never to let me live there. She always had a joke up her sleeve, a comforting hug or gesture, or the right words to help guide me back, away from my fear, and into the present.

One of my biggest fears, besides surviving this, is whether our marriage would survive. I think a lot of people don't want to or aren't prepared to go through something so big, so emotional. Especially so early in our marriage. I know a lot of people would have walked away, and I wouldn't have blamed her if she did. But not for one minute did she ever let me doubt our love and its strength.

We openly talk about my fears, my potential death, my wishes for her life if I were no longer here, and how angry and hurt I was about the whole situation; she didn't bat an eye. I felt closer to her than ever, and I felt relief in knowing that she understood how I felt and that I understood her fears too.

She has never left my side. She showed an immense amount of strength and courage. She never let me see the fear in her eyes. She held my hand, and often she just sat beside me in silence, waiting for me to push through the darkest parts of my mind. I would tell her to go home or not to worry; I mostly couldn't open my eyes. I was so tired, but she stayed anyway and just sat with me, so I wasn't alone.

She told me I was beautiful every day. You never complained. You never got mad. You just always said, it is okay; we will figure it out. And we did, well, she did.

She was always right there with me to make sure I was okay. She worked hard to understand the illness, the recovery process, and how best to keep me safe. I have never been more proud or honored to have her as a wife.

This process, while challenging and life-changing, changed the way I see you forever. I always saw her as a generous, loving, and kind-hearted person. I have always called her my princess. But she is so much more than that. She is my best friend. She is a saint. She is selfless and compassionate. She gave me so much of herself, her time, her love, and her energy, all while trying to hold every other aspect of our lives together.

She truly amazes me. She never let me feel like I was in this alone, and I feel eternally grateful that three months ago, when she said those vows to me, she really truly meant them. She is the true embodiment of love. I loved her before, but I love her so deeply now; after going through hell and back with her, I can not put it into words because they simply do not exist.

I wouldn't have been able to get through this without her, and nothing would make me happier than spending the rest of my years loving her, adventuring with her, and manifesting our dreams together as we watch everything we just fought so hard to keep, unfold before us.

Although no one said that it would be easy, I don't ever remember them telling us how hard it would be, either. And, boy, it's been hard. We haven't had the fairy tale romance, nor have we had the Hollywood love affair. But you know what? I'm grateful for that.

Jenna and I have had a real marriage. It hasn't been perfect, and it hasn't been easy, and, honestly, it hasn't always been pleasant. But, still, I'm grateful. Because life isn't perfect, and life isn't easy, and life isn't always pleasant. And Jenna and I? We've built a life together.

Through every other high and low, and up and down that one can go through, she has been there with me. She has been my rock. She has been my anchor. She has been my person. Just as our vows said, she has been there for me in good times and in bad. In sickness and in health. She has not left my side.

Marriage is hard because life is hard, but that doesn't make either any less beautiful. So here's my pledge to you: I'm going to stop concentrating on what is turmoiling inside my brain, and I'm going to start concentrating on her.

I'm going to concentrate on remembering to slow down and take time to quite literally smell the roses. I'm going to remember that life is short and that tomorrow isn't guaranteed.

Life won't. This illness especially won't. No one said this would be easy. But I'm thankful that it's been hard. I'm thankful because it means this is for real. That we're for real. And that we're going to make it through no matter what. And when you know that, you realize that everything else, the worries and the struggles, they can take a backseat on this beautiful ride we're on together.

So yes, I do need to remember that I should not stop believing in myself, no matter what happens. I should not stop believing in us; our time left together might be short.