At the risk of sounding cheesy, I’m going to post something that despite having had the opportunity to notice almost 17 hours ago, I’m only realizing now and could help me lose all credibility as being “heartless”. (I would like to inform all potential readers, I am far from heartless—I swear!)
Here is, “me”, in the “super shirt”.
Nothing unusual or special about these pictures—just me, in a Superman shirt. Though it is a Friday morning, and I’m off from work, which I guess in and of itself is special, so… But, lets focus on this Superman t-shirt. From first glance, you cannot tell how weathered it is or that blocks of color are completely missing in areas. You don’t get to feel how light the material has grown to be from the amounts of washings it’s endured. This is the Superman shirt. No, no… Clark Kent never donned this garment (though that would have been awesome!). A different kind of superhero wore this shirt. A very human superman.
My superman doesn’t wear a cape. In fact, when we first started dating, most days he looked like he had just escaped the “Shawshank Redemption” set.
He doesn’t and didn’t save any lives, (though there was this time a coworker and I were taking a community group out and she forgot the EZ-Pass and the transportation director got mad…). My superman works for the New Jersey Turnpike Authority, and despite being accepted into the New Jersey Sheriff’s Academy, chose to stay at the NJTA because it “wasn’t really what he wanted anyway”. (A year later, I learned he was worried that it would have affected our future too much, with me being a responsible party for my developmentally disabled sister and him having a “complicated” schedule.) Right now, he is working the midnights with the maintenance department and at this very moment is asleep across the room from me. I have closed all the blinds and curtains—the door to the front room is closed so no falloff sun-rays make it in. He wouldn’t go to bed since I have been up since the time he clocked out and was not able to go back to sleep. My superman, in spite of being encouraged to worry about himself more and others less, is still always concerned with his loved ones more.
This is how we get to the “super shirt”. Five years ago, my superman was diagnosed with a brain tumor, which if left untreated could have led to serious complications. My superman, at this time, was simply known as William.
William and I have known each other since high school, which is a lot longer that it feels. It wasn’t until college that we really got to know each other; until I found out how truly special this man is. However, with the end of the fall semester, we stopped talking. Less than three months after we last saw each other I learned of William’s condition. It came up very nonchalantly. I walked up to a mutual friend who was sitting with a cup of coffee, alone and asked, “Where is everyone?”
So-and-so was in class, and this one was still home, and that one went to get food, and William is in the hospital…
“What? Why?”
And so I learned of the tumor (a benign grade-I ganglioglioma; a rare tumor
that affects both cells responsible for providing the structural support of the central nervous system and cells that support the functioning component of the central nervous system. Years later, once we had become more or less a “thing”, I learned the whole story. William had been suffering for months leading up to his diagnosis with abnormal fatigue, blurred vision, dizzy spells, nausea/loss of appetite, and the loss of a whopping 10-15lbs. He had chalked it all up to exhaustion from the semester. One evening, he had a terrible headache, which he admits worried him enough that he had not wanted to sleep. He woke his mother and told her how he felt, and off to the doctor he went. Later, after an MRI, he was informed very matter-of-factly that he would need immediate surgery, as the tumor was in a “bad place”—his cerebellum.
The cerebellum helps to control our coordination/movement, equilibrium/balance, muscle tone, eye movement/vision, and speech, to name a few. Without treatment, William’s vision and dizzy spells would only get worse, potentially leading to an inability to walk, or see efficiently to drive or even gauge distance. William’s response to this, “So you’re going to take a buzz saw to my head? Okay.” Twenty years old and calm enough to then joke, “I wish there was video I could watch…”
William went into pre-op within hours and underwent a grueling six hour surgery, which thankfully removed all of the tumor and part of his cerebellum. It was sent for a biopsy and though suspected to be benign, took a week for pathology to deem it benign. Great news! With that stress out of the way he was now tumor and cancer free, with a “gnarly” scar, and his new hurdle of the moment was whether or not to completely shave his head, and he did.
It would then take him several weeks to recover; spending time at Kessler Rehabilitation Institute. It was during his time at Kessler that he became “superman”.
While in rehabilitation, William had to retrain his brain to capably balance and walk. An average Joe turned survivor of a brain tumor, who then turned into Superman to his loved ones. Almost immediately he wanted to get out of the wheelchair and onto the floor. It was only a few months later when he went in to retake his driving test to get his license back. There was nothing that was going to stop him from returning to “normal”.
Today, thankfully, he is still tumor free. Reoccurrence is possible, but doctors say it’s less than 38% likely in his case. Still, he goes to annual neurology appointments and undergoes an MRI each time. He doesn’t suffer any dramatic side-effects of the tumor or surgery, though if you knew him before and after you can point them out (shaky hands and legs, vertigo when lying flat on his back, and some impairment when reading due to the comprehension part of speech). One thing the tumor and surgery could not effect, though, was his heart. My superman still has a huge heart! By the time we had started dating he had lost his grandmother, and had spent countless hours at her bedside, and physically carrying her when she was too weak. He had suffered the dissolution of part of his family and yet he still tried to keep the peace. And now he was going to try to make me the happiest girl in the world if possible. (Let it be known, he succeeds!)
So, now everyone must be thinking, “Geez! I’ve been reading forever… What was your realization? You already knew about the tumor!”
When I woke up this morning, waiting for this incredible man to come home, I looked in the mirror and realized, “It’s the Superman shirt…” He wore this shirt post-surgery—a surgery that changed his life and could’ve ultimately determined whether he would continue to walk and drive. This is a shirt only he has ever worn; my superman. This is a shirt he gave to me while we were cleaning closets for him to move; a shirt that when he handed it to me he stated, “Here, it’s yours now. I’m not super; you are.” (Well, I beg to differ, William! But that’s a different story…)
When I woke up this morning and looked in the mirror and saw I was wearing the “super shirt”, I truly realized how lucky I am to have this man in my life. It has been almost three years now since we have decided to take our friendship to the relationship level. It was only about two years before then that this same incredible man that is asleep in the living room could have been disabled at the best case scenario, left undiagnosed. I am not one to take anything for granted, but I admit that until this morning I didn’t realize the severity of those weeks of symptoms prior to his diagnosis and regaining his driver’s license. I almost feel a sense of honor to be wearing this shirt; to be the girlfriend of superman, to be the one telling the story of his success, and be the one that has attended those annual neuro-appointments with him (admittedly, probably more nervous than him). It fills me with happiness and pride to stand next to him every day. It still surprises me to be able to say, “That one is mine,” in a crowded room and hear all the exclamations of, “You lucky girl! He’s so handsome!” “Handsome” isn’t even his best quality, and he is quite handsome…
My superman is a hard worker, a dedicated and loyal man. He knows selflessness like no other I know. He is strong in every sense of the word, and without saying a word can be the center of attention of the room. He has an unbelievably optimistic outlook on everything (which I admit, can at time become irritating, but is something I am always grateful for…). He has the patience of a saint! And beyond all these unmeasurable things, he is so smart and insanely talented artistically. He’s fun to be around and has a great sense of humor. And despite being a bit corny, he is without a doubt, the best friend and best boyfriend anyone could have in their life.
I know I sound cheesy and like 99.99% of every other “taken” female out there, but once you meet William, you just feel he’s different… Today, after my realization of how different things could have been for not only us, but for him, I just wanted to take a moment to appreciate him a little extra and love him just a little bit more obviously obnoxiously (haha!).
My superman doesn’t wear tights or change in phone booths. He doesn’t fly or crumple at the touch of kryptonite. My superman is human, and fairly average on the surface. It’s easy to forget unless you see the scar, but my superman is also a survivor. He’s my best friend. And this morning, (maybe it’s hormones), I just really felt the surge of wow-factor when I saw the “super shirt”, and felt the urge to shout from the rooftop (metaphorically only—we’re expecting storms anyway) that I’m grateful for the life he has and the life we have made together.
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