A Picture to Remember by Nicholas

Picture this. Jamie and I are decked out in our tuxedos with purple silk bow ties and purple cummerbund, standing near to each other—he a head taller than me. We have boutonnieres of white carnations in our lapels and we are smiling. We look like two grooms because we are two grooms, celebrating our wedding in 2008.

Now, picture this. We are in a hospital room. Jamie, in a hospital gown, is in bed and has a nasal-gastric tube in his nose. I’m standing next to him wearing a polo shirt and khaki slacks. The minister who officiated at our ceremony is signing our marriage license as our witnesses—my sister, Jamie’s sister-in-law, my nephew, and Jamie’s mom—watch. Just married. Our smiles are trying to make the best of a bad situation.

Which picture is true? Which picture do we really remember? The answer is: both. We have the official picture of our wedding, as it was supposed to have happened. And we have the actual picture of our wedding, as it did happen in Stanford University Hospital. The official photo, which is actually from a reception we held months later, sits proudly on our mantel. The other rests indelibly in our memories of that August day in 2008 when the grand celebration we’d planned all summer turned into a desperate rush to the nearest ER. It sits in a box on a closet shelf.

Early on the morning of our wedding day, Jamie complained of a stomach ache that seemed more than a case of wedding day nerves. At 6 a.m., we went to the Emergency Room at Stanford Hospital where doctors quickly diagnosed that they didn’t know exactly what was going on but Jamie had to stay in the hospital until they could figure it out. Sorry, said the doctors, no wedding that day.

Then someone, I don’t recall who, asked about having our wedding in the hospital. The docs were surprised but said, sure, if the nurses were OK with it. The nurses were thrilled to have a wedding in their hospital and they set about making Jamie look presentable.

We hastily arranged for just family to squeeze into Stanford’s tiny chapel where we recited our vows and were pronounced married. The reception with catered dinner and fancy cake with two grooms on top went on as scheduled since we had 80 people gathered—some travelling from far away—to help us celebrate this momentous day. Jamie, of course, had to remain in the hospital while I, so tired I could hardly think, had to play host—alone. Yes, I received countless good wishes that day but I barely remember that.

A few days later, Jamie was operated on to relieve a bowel obstruction and began a long, slow recovery that kept us both in California for over a month but not for the honeymoon we’d planned.

So, we have our pictures—the one we happily remember and the one we can’t forget.

© March 2015

About the Author

Nicholas grew up in Cleveland, then grew up in San Francisco, and is now growing up in Denver. He retired from work with non-profits in 2009 and now bicycles, gardens, cooks, does yoga, writes stories, and loves to go out for coffee.