"Oh *$%&, what have I gotten myself into??" ~Me, at the end of convocationGoing into graduation weekend, we had two concerns. The first was whether Dear Husband would be sufficiently recovered from his second round of chemotherapy to participate in the festivities. The second was whether the rain would hold off long enough to let us take some post-ceremony photographs. The timing was a little precarious--DH had started chemo #1 on a Wednesday, but that needed to be a Monday for chemo #2 or else he would be too sick to cap off twelve grueling years of school by hooding me. (My medical school lets anyone with a terminal doctorate put the medieval hood over your head, and DH's Doctorate of Medical Arts counts.) We had invested a lot of emotional energy into that symbolic act--perhaps too much?--so when the oncologist's office wanted to push him back to a Thursday, I turned on the charm, and they squeezed us in on a Tuesday. (They'll also be getting an edible bouquet when we leave!).
Thankfully, DH felt good enough on Friday to take some just-in-case photos at the statue of the Alma Mater--there wasn't even much of a line, since all-campus graduation is a week later. He came to the picnic and awards ceremony, and Saturday morning, he stayed out of the shopping / packing / mowing-before-it-rained-too-hard fray in order to conserve his energy. The ceremony went off with hardly a hitch, and the sun even came out for an outdoor photo shoot before dinner. Until the official pics come out, here we are in all our amateur glory.
Check out these guys in their hats, shades, and striped shirts.
At the Awards Ceremony Friday night.
Here's to 12 years of graduate and medical school, and almost as many of marriage.
In case you can't tell, I've got the hots for this guy, who's been by my side the whole way.
These people never doubted that I would finish what I had set out to do.
Our families are awesome models of marriage and supportive parenting.
Yay!
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