So far, I've gotten a lot of nice comments about the blog.  Several people have commented on my matter-of-fact attitude.  (Yeah, that's me.)  Others have said it's obvious I loved teaching and can't give it up.  (Maybe there's been too much of this.)  My friend Jill, who will be reading this, used to say that I might have a high I.Q., but I have a low E.Q. (emotional quotient).  I was always somewhat miffed by that comment, but looking back at what I've written, there does seem to be a consistent and not very emotional tone. 

I want to say then that not one word of this blog would be the same if it weren't for Mohamed, who has unfailingly loved and supported me through all of this without a word of complaint.  One of those cliches that's a cliche because it's true is that no one outside a relationship (and often even those within a relationship) can really understand its nature.  From the outside, we seem an unlikely pairing--the age difference is huge, the cultural background couldn't be more different, he's a Muslim, I'm an atheist.  But everyone who has met Mohamed can see immediately what a good person he is and how deep is our love.

We've been together for five years--two of them long distance, three since he moved to Topeka.  The first four years were fun and exciting, including a summer in Paris.  The last year he's shown his quiet strength.  For the first days after I came back from the hospital, I couldn't make it upstairs in the house to go to the bathroom.  I'd talk about loss of dignity, but there wasn't much left to lose.  Mohamed never flinched.  Although there are many things I can do now, there are others I still can't.  Because the cancer destroyed a lot of my left scapula, extending my left arm (and I'm left-handed) and lifting things is often painful.  My right leg is pretty strong, and my gait is decent, but going up and down stairs is still something that requires some effort.  Every morning I pull up my shirt, and Mohamed gives me my anti-coagulant shot.  He goes to every doctor's appointment (and was there 24 hours a day during and after my surgery) and remembers exactly where to go and what was done the last time.  He asks the right questions and remembers more of the answers than I do.  Although I am dependent on him in many ways, he never makes me feel dependent.  Of course, he would say, he does these things for me because we're in this together.

In five years, we've had exactly one argument, and that lasted about 15 minutes.  And for some reason, he still finds me attractive and sexy.  I see the white hair and wrinkles and limp and groan.  He sees the same traits and smiles.

So of all the good luck that's come my way in life, I couldn't have asked for someone better to share this time with.  Love may not be all you need, but it sure the hell helps.