It is not a common thing to be grateful for our suffering while we are still enduring the cause but in my case the greatest event of my life began with the worst. I had spent my life in search of love. I put myself in situations and experienced things that I would cause me to say, "I never thought that would happen to me." It was as if I did not believe I was the one responsible for these tradgedies that kept occuring in my life. In 2001 my boyfriend had just committed suicide and my mother had just passed away from natural causes; cigarettes and alcohol. I tried to keep up appearances and be the strong one in the family. It was my first time in Mississippi in many years. I was uncomfortable and didn't feel well. I was tired from life and I was displaying physical symptoms of my fatigue. I was off balance, my head hurt, my memory was dull and things just weren't right.

I was driving home from a poetry class in Memphis when I had a seizure. I was driving when it happened and luckily no one else was hurt. When the police came I didn't know who I was. I couldn't answer the simplest question. I was arrested under the suspician of being under the influence of something. The police took me to the hospital where they began a series of tests while I was handcuffed. I was told that after a seizure memory can be cloudy but eventually returns. As I lay there I began to remember and at some point I wished I could stop the memories for intruding on my brief moment of being in the moment with no past.

After several hours of waiting for results a demure female physician entered the room and explained to me that I had a brain tumor in and around my pituitary gland. I laughed. It was a moment of temporary insanity and pain releasing itself through the comedy in the tradgedy. I was released from my arrest and the officers quietly left. I didn't know who to call. I was stuck at the hospital without a car and wasn't sure I knew what to do or where to go if I had transportation. I loked through the contacts on my cell phone and found the number of my best friend for the last decade and called.

"Hello."

"Hi Matt, this is Kim, I need you to pick me up at the hospital. I'll explain later just please get here soon."

Fifteen minutes later in walks Matt. He has a confused look on his face but seemed to know exactly what to do. We left and went to his house. I told him about the diagnosis and how I was scheduled for surgery consult with a neurosurgeon in three days. I was getting a crash course in what it means to experience humility and in how to navigate the modern world of medicine. I had no health insurance and this was becoming a fear instead of the nagging concern it used to be. Matt came up with an idea I thought was crazy, but, he seemed to have it together more than me, I trusted him with my life and loved him like a brother.

"I have insurance, we'll get married. I can take care of you and we will know you will be safe and well taken care of through this medical mess."

"Okay."

I realise it wasn't the most romantic of proposals and I was still grieving over a man I would need time to get over. But it seemed practical and it took away the fear. So, on the day I was supposed to see the neorosurgeon for the first time we went to the mall and got married in fifteen minutes. We drove though a Sonic and celebrated with milkshakes and drove to the doctor's office where I checked the married box on my intake form and filled out my insurance information with pride.

The surgery was set for the following week. I moved into Matt's place and got myself prepared for the surgey. Matt took off of work for two weeks to help me. I had nightmares every night ans seizures several times a day. He became a pro at dealing with an epileptic and being there for me in every way. He became a psychologist, a cook, a nurse and my strength.

On the night before the surgery we stayed up talking, crying  and were glued to each other physically. At four a.m. we drove to the medical center and went to the neorological building so I could be prepped. His parents drove in from Knoxville for moral support. I wasn't used to having such a normal life on paper and felt like I was impersonating someone I never knew. Matt walked with me to pre-op and they let him go into the operating room while they put me to sleep. As I counted backwards from ten I never took  my eyes off of him. He told me he loved me and I thing I was able to get out,"I Love.." before I was out.

For fifteen hours Matt and his parents waited for the news that they were praying for. "Your wife is out of surgery and in recovery. You will be able to see her in about and hour."

The doctors were not sure what would be challenging to me after the surgery so before I went in for the operation, I was told I may be, "different." They did believe I would eventually have a normal life and would come through everything very well if I wanted to work. Of course I wanted to.  Who wouldn't I wondered.

When I woke up in recovery I thought I was in a restaurant. I did not know who I was and I had to trust the,"waitresses," that I was in the right place. I had a lot of tubes coming out and going into me. I hurt but I felt a sense of peace that seemed God given. I was put in an area called neuro trauma ICU. I was one of six patients and the only one not in a coma. The nurse told me I had some visitors who were on their way in. I had no idea who was going to walk through those doors. She must have noticed the confusion on my face. Since I had a breathing tube in I couldn't speak to ask who was out there, she let me know it was family and assured me all would be well. As the door opened Matt and his parents walked in. The nurse brought them over and she said, " Your husband has been very worried about you. I know you must be glad to see him and your in-laws."

I did not know them. They seemed nice. They were smiling and telling me they loved me but I searched every bit of my mind for a clue and there was just nothing. I felt sad for them. I felt scared for me.

Over the next two years I would spend life in a wheelchair. Then a year and a half on Canadian or arm cruthes and leg braces. Matt's parents had moved us into their home after I was clear to travel. Matt's dad retired early so I always had somebody to help me. He took me to physical, speech and occupational therapy five days a week, for six hours and for two years. By this time I remembered marrying Matt and who he was. I had to ask a lot of the same questions everyday to make sure my memories were correct. Matt and his parents never got tired of answering questions like," Who are you again?" or " Where am I?."

I had to learn to swallow, read, write, walk, play guitar (hand eye coordination) speak correctly, have social respect, memorize, problem solve and deal with it all without self pity. I am  not perfect. I would not want to be. I had days when my pity came out in full force but it helped me to learn and grow.  One day while I was crying about being disabled I asked Matt why he didn't just give up on me and put me in a nursing facility or leave. He said," Because I wouldn't want anyone to give up on me." I had a lot of time to think. I had delayed grief and a lot of survivor's uilt over the death of my boyfriend and mother. Matt listened to me every time even though (I have been told) I repeated the same things a lot. He was compassionate and kind. He was understanding and patient. One day I was reviewing the facts of our relationship. I thought about how the marriage started. I thought about all the messed up relationships I had put myself through in the quest for true love. I thought about the shame I felt for all I had put him through in those years. I thought about our now fifteen year old friendship,four year old marriage and my trust and respect for him. I thought about all of the things we had in common: we are both guitar players, we have spent our lives in bands and vans, we both love vinyl and collect it, we enjoy a wide variety of music, we prefer books to TV and we have read a lot of the same books, we have both looked for love and been burned so mant times we had lost count, we are both funny and happy people and we share the same spiritual principles which is more important to me than any thing else. I realised love is not a verb. I saw that our union may have begun under strange conditions but it was meant to be. We have been married seven years now and every time I look at him I feel love. I have always been happy to see him or hear his voice on the phone. I still am. My brain tumor and the challenges it brought with it were the humbling experience I needed to see my true self. My husband embraced every change and was and still is my biggest fan. I learned to love because somebody showed me how.

On September 11, 2007 I began walking with out braces, cruthces or any other device. I can obviously read and write again. I can do everything I used to do but better because I was lucky enough to have the world stop and had the time to examine and change my behavior, coping skills and my attitude. On January 2, 2008 I started driving again. I use my car to take people from my community to physical therapy and am on the mission committee in our community. We have our own home now and even though I am still disabled in some ways it only enhances the ways I am not. We are all disabled in some ways. That's okay, that is called being human. My love story is not just the story of love for a person it is the story of love for the world, all people, animal, plants and everything I come in contact with. My love story will never end it will only grow. I hope you too are so blessed. Love, Kim