Stitchpop

Many people believe they are married to the "best" person of the opposite (or same, depending) sex. The truth is, I have secured the best man. I've known this for some time, but now and then I have to publicly proclaim it.

Last night, against Husband's better judgment, I talked him into watching a show we'd Tivo-ed (against his better judgment) on Discovery Health about The Woman with the 200-Pound Tumor.

The tumor weighed more than I do, even on fat days.

You half expected it to morph into human form and separate itself from the woman like an alien-esque form of asexual budding reproduction.

I have a grotesque fascination with things that go that wrong with the human body. Husband was outright horrified. He cringed and winced and watched sideways while I sat glued to each lingering camera shot.

Toward the end, we both promised each other never to get sick or sprout monstrous tumors. And then I felt a migraine coming on.

I've had migraines in the past. I've had them with increasing frequency in the past few months. Usually I see sparkly lights, take some pills, go to sleep for a few hours and wake up able to function. But this, this was the migraine to knock all previous migraines on their collective rear. We went to bed around 10:30 and by midnight I was sitting on the bathroom floor convinced that my brain was hemorrhaging.

And then I was a character in Our Town and the dragon from Sleeping Beauty wanted to marry my sister.

I kept Husband up for many hours, alternately wretching, sobbing, and hallucinating. If he would have rather been sleeping, he never showed it. He brought me water and tissues and made me feel calm. I ultimately convinced the dragon that I didn't have a sister, and he turned into a shower of brilliant fireworks that could be seen throughout all of Grover's Corners.

He's such a nice man. Husband, that is... not the dragon.