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There are a thousand and one things to plan for a wedding.
One thing we definitely did not plan for was the chance that the bride would have emergency surgery for a ruptured appendix and a raging peritoneal infection only six days before the marriage ceremony.
Today, the day I am writing this, is the day on which our son Worshrag and his betrothed, Busy Bee, were to have been married.
For the past month I have been writing in this column about how they met and fell in love, and about my small part, which has been to make our old barn fit to host the reception. My plan for today's column, Dear Reader, was to write a happy, sentimental account of their blessed event.
Instead I am pondering how to communicate the roller-coaster events and emotions of the past 10 days: the crushing disappointment to all of us, but especially to Busy Bee, as a young bride's cherished wedding plans and dreams all fell apart at the eleventh hour; our anger, and that of her parents, at an emergency room doctor for an incorrect initial diagnosis that postponed the surgery for five days; her very real fear of undergoing surgery, and ours for her life and health; the steadfast care and love displayed by our son toward her during her days in pain and gastric distress from an unknown illness, followed by his constant bedside care during her recuperation from surgery; and the hopes and prayers of so many people that she be restored to health.
As we find so often, there is a compensation effect in the universe, giving Busy Bee a skilled and compassionate surgeon to save her life at the same hospital where an emergency doctor's error sent her home with a misdiagnosis of a stomach virus.
IT FELL TO HONEY, Worshrag and me to be the ones present to receive that surgeon's report after Busy Bee came out of the OR. It was almost midnight on Sunday night. We were waiting in an otherwise deserted hospital lobby when the surgeon, still in his scrubs, sat down with us and described in unsettling detail the lengthy open abdominal operation to repair damage and cleanse the body cavity. He said Busy Bee would receive the strongest antibiotic available to combat the infection, and warned us of many days in the hospital and possible complications such as blood clots and pneumonia.
"Their wedding is supposed to be Saturday. She won't want to give it up. Is that at all possible?" I asked.
"This Saturday? Six days from now? God help me if I'm wrong, but no, it's not," he said.
Honey said Busy Bee would have to be told in the morning so the process of notifying 130 wedding guests and participants could begin. Vendor services including catering, table and linen rentals, and restaurant rehearsal dinner must be cancelled.
"Some may extend a credit if we postpone early enough," my wife said, "but money is not the important thing right now."
"She's alive. That's all that matters," our son said.
WE WERE RIGHT about Busy Bee not wanting to give up on the wedding. Her excellent physical condition, the resilience of youth, and the morphine all asserted themselves the morning after surgery. She felt so much better she convinced herself she would be out of the hospital in a few days. On Monday and Tuesday she did laps of the med-surg floor with her IV pole to prove it.
Her father called us from the hospital. "She's determined to go ahead with the wedding," he said. "What are we going to do?"
She and our son are not children, so our role as parents is legally and morally limited to give advice and assistance. We treaded water, able only to warn vendors of the situation. "If we wait too long to cancel, who's going to eat all that food?" Honey moaned.
But on the third day Busy Bee crashed just as the surgeon expected, and the word finally went out: the wedding's off. Air flights were cancelled and $1,200 worth of tuxedos sent back. MJB BBQ and Catering of Wellsville, Ambassador Tent Rentals of Midland, Simply Sweet Cakes, and Coaches Burger Bar of Calcutta are among vendors who earned a place in our hearts, and our future business, with their flexibility and compassion.
There were signs of positive progress on Busy Bee's fifth day in the hospital: she was allowed a few spoonfuls of broth and sips of ginger ale. This morning, the sixth day, she sent out a text photo of her breakfast tray, containing the first real food she had eaten in a week: cream of wheat, pudding, jello, milk, juice and ice cream.
WHEN HONEY AND I walked into her hospital room at noon today, Busy Bee was standing up by her bed, holding onto her IV pole, with a smile on her face, but when she saw us she began to cry. Honey she started crying, too, as she wrapped her arms around our future daughter-in-law.
"I understand. I'm so sorry," my wife whispered into her ear. She knew the tears came because today was supposed to be their wedding day.
The trial these two young people have endured has only made their bond stronger. As Honey put it, "they haven't taken their vows yet, and they've already gotten through the 'in sickness and in health' part."
It's too early to say just when and where and how Worshrag and Busy Bee will get married, but they will get married, and soon. It will be a celebration infinitely more rich, more joyous than it would have been, because it was so nearly lost.