I can still picture the moment when this horrible journey first began.
The day seemed so normal, as we were visiting his sister and her sons in the suburbs since we were both done with work for the summer to prepare for our upcoming wedding. We had just finished lunch when he complained of a headache and felt the urge to use the bathroom. When he came back out, he looked pale and sickly. We both acknowledged that it was time to go.
I was initially surprised when he agreed to let me drive us home, but in the moment was only worried about him resting and feeling better.
Looking back, maybe I should have been more concerned when he didn't insist on driving us home.
Somewhere along our drive from the northwestern suburbs to our apartment in the city, our lives were forever changed.
While the specific details have gotten lost over the years, I can still picture my husband looking at me with complete absence in his eyes and responding with unprovoked laughter.
I think I paused for a minute, processing this unexpected response, before asking him, "Do you know my name?"
Once again, he looked at me, right in the eyes and laughed again, before turning his head and looking out the car window.
My exact thought: He has a brain tumor.
Somehow, I didn't cry but instead responded. I picked up my cell phone and called his dad, knowing that he was still at work nearby in downtown Chicago. I don't remember exactly what I said but can remember putting him on speaker to hear my concerns for himself and then asked his son, "How are you feeling?" For the third time within minutes, I heard the response of laughter come from him again.
I can still hear my now father-in-law say, "Take him to the nearest ER and I'll meet you there."
I don't recall pulling our car up to the ER entrance, but remember sitting in the waiting with both my husband and my father-in-law. My husband seemed so unlike his normal self, and his speech and movements appearing more slowly.
My father-in-law and I sat in the waiting room as he was called back for an examination and lab tests, soon followed by a lumbar puncture (spinal tap). I'm sure both of our minds were running in circles, trying to process it all while also updating other family members and friends.
At some point, the ER physician pulled us into the exam room where I saw him in a hospital gown for the first time. All I can remember hearing is, "We'd like to admit him."
Anything else about that day is lost in time. I really don't think I even knew the date until we were moved into the inpatient area of the hospital and had time to ourselves to begin taking it all in.
At some point, I must have realized the date: July 16, 2014. Exactly one month before our wedding.