For as long as we both shall live.

"In sickness and in health."

At Oswald West State Park
on the Oregon coast, 2013

When most brides and grooms utter those words, they are basking in the youthful glow of health, the sickness part of the vow likely decades away.

In just over two weeks, my fiancé John and I will also recite those momentous words, well aware the bride is struggling with a chronic, debilitating disease, multiple sclerosis.

At the risk of sounding self-deprecating, why in the world would John want to take this— meaning me--on? It is a question I've asked myself many times. And I have reminded John, only half jokingly, "You know, it's not too late to run?"

The simple and true answer is, of course, that he loves me.  It doesn’t hurt that he also has a helper’s mindset with a mechanical engineer’s creativity for designing and building problem-solving devices.  In fact, I think John is happiest when he is constructing tools to make my life easier.

I could give many examples—the gas-nozzle opener that gives my weak hands more leverage or the cedar couch “cane” that helps me stand up from the futon—but my favorite has to be the beach chariot, as he has dubbed it. I can no longer walk on sand, and wheelchair tires won't roll there, either, so John is building the chariot to give me access to the beach.

The human-powered contraption likely will prompt a few laughs as we put it to use during our honeymoon touring the Oregon coast next month. Imagine a rickshaw with balloon tires, carrying a wooden platform on which the bride will sit in a teal-green lawn chair.

 In all seriousness, many a long-term relationship has abruptly ended after a spouse was diagnosed with MS or other serious condition. Some partners have even admitted they did not want to take on such a burden--and there really is no other word for it. Degenerative conditions are, indeed, burdens.

 John certainly isn’t sticking around because of my always-sparkling personality, either. I have great compassion for myself, and I can be difficult to live with when I am having an especially hard day, struggling mightily to do simple tasks that most people don’t think twice about (putting on shoes or pulling up zippers, for example).

For me, it comes back to the question of whether a human being has value, regardless of physical condition, or any other condition, for that matter: mental, emotional, you name it.

And what does it mean to love someone anyway? If it means to pick up her feet, one step at a time, so she can get to the second-floor bedroom at the end of the day when her body is tired, then John loves me.

If it means sometimes helping pull up her pants because she needs both hands to hang onto something immovable in order to stay upright, then John loves me.

It's what we humans have done, I suspect, for as long as we have walked the planet. We take care of each other.

I regret that I won’t be able to reciprocate in the same way for John. I have to trust that just being will be enough.