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By Anne and Sam
July 10, 2012 is a day that I will never forget. I went in for surgery to correct my congenital scoliosis. The surgery was complicated, expected to last 3-4 hours with two weeks of recovery. I had everything planned out and handed everything over to my sister, Michelle, who was going to take care of me for 2 weeks.
Heading into surgery, Anne, as usual, had everything under control. She had compiled a massive binder with all the relevant information: surgeon’s name, health insurance, full medical policy, questions to ask the doctors at every step of the procedure, etc. After sharing a few jokes and prayers, she was taken to the operating room, around noon, and we headed to the waiting room. Hours passed. Around quarter after six an anesthesiologist updated us. After they had stabilized her spine’s curvature, but before they could straighten it, the sensors in her legs stopped receiving signals. As quickly as they could, they closed her up, woke her up, and tested her nervous response. She could neither move nor feel her legs.
I woke up with a breathing tube still down my throat. Michelle and Sam told me what was going on, but my brain didn’t register that I couldn’t move my legs. I was very tired, groggy, and my entire body hurt. For four days, I was kept in the surgical ICU while doctors and nurses poked me and ran test after test. Family and friends visited, and pretty soon I won the award on the floor for having the most visitors! I even had a doctor who looked like Ryan Gosling, who made the poking and prodding seem so much better. (Sorry, Sam.) After a week, I was transferred to an in-patient rehab facility because there was still no movement in my legs. They had a rigorous schedule lined up for me, with occupational therapy, physical therapy, art therapy, and even cooking therapy.
The first day of therapy was torture. My brain finally registered that I couldn’t move my legs. Sitting uncomfortably in a wheelchair in the middle of the therapy gym, I was terrified. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t get up and leave. I had to rely on someone to help me out of the chair, rely on someone to get me dressed, and I couldn’t even shower or go to the bathroom.
I drove up to the rehab center every day after work. At first, the doctors told us that they didn’t know when Anne’s legs would “wake up.” It could be a week, a year, or it could be never. However, it didn’t take long for Anne to start showing signs of progress. First her left leg began to feel sensation, then she could wiggle her left toes. There was still no feeling in her right leg, though.
The days at the rehab center got much better as I started to realize that I was not alone. There was an entire floor of patients who were going through similar traumas. Michelle and Sam pushed (okay, forced) me to have a positive attitude and make friends with my roommate, my therapists, and other patients. We played card game after card game, Bananagrams, Uno, Phase 10, Cards Against Humanity, and plenty of other games to pass the time. Heading into the surgery, I had registered to run the Long Branch half-marathon the following May. My therapists would use that as a motivational tool, saying “You can’t run the marathon unless you sit up,” or “You have to learn how to walk before you can run that marathon.”
I attended some of Anne’s physical therapy sessions. It was frustrating for the therapists to tell Anne to move her legs and Anne would conjure up all of her willpower and strength and nothing would happen. I’m sure it was more frustrating to Anne to not be able to do the simple things that she was able to do a week ago. It was also frustrating to not be able to see her for very long. I would come up to the rehab center straight from work and then have to leave about an hour or two later because visiting hours were over. I’d also spend a good chunk of my weekend with Anne and Michelle at the rehab center, playing games. We even started our own Saturday morning Torah study, reading and discussing the weekly parsha.
Anne’s improvement was slow, a lot slower than we wanted, but it exceeded her therapists’ expectations. One day Anne had enough strength to stand, then the therapists pushed her to walk. The day after her first wobbly steps, she walked the length of the gym, assisted only by a walker. I loved seeing the excitement on her face when she’d tell me about the progress she had made earlier in the day, and every day she seemed to grow ten times as strong as the day before.
Sam and my sister Michelle were there every day, and my immediate family drove 2 hours from Delaware every other day to visit. Sam even met some of my friends and extended family during visiting hours in the rehab center, including some cousins driving back to Minnesota from New York.
The surgery and its fallout was a horribly traumatic experience, but with Sam’s support I was able to heal faster than my doctors’ and therapists’ expectations. Even two years later, I’m still not 100% healed. Sometimes I notice that one of the nerves in my right foot is still not functioning properly. However, going through this experience with Sam brought us closer together. I hope that Sam and I never have to experience that kind of trauma again, but I know now that we have the strength together to get through all of life’s difficulties.
Sam and I got engaged in September and this blog is our place to share with you a little bit about us as individuals and as a couple. We continue exploring and learning about each other. I will be writing these blog posts in collaboration with Sam.
It was two years, this past weekend, since I started dating my fiancé, Sam. We met online and neither of us were particularly looking to meet someone from a different faith; it just happened. On our second date, religion and faith was the topic of conversation and we started recognizing the similarities of Judaism and Catholicism.
Sam grew up in an interfaith household. His father is a Reform Jew and his mother is a practicing Presbyterian. All three children were raised as Jews. Because of this, Sam is very connected to his faith: sitting on a few committees of the local Jewish Federation, frequently attending services, and involved with lay leadership at his synagogue. I, on the other hand, was raised in a religiously conservative Roman Catholic household. My nine siblings and I went to church every Sunday, received the Sacraments as often as we could, attended private Catholic schools, and pray often as a family.
In trying to write this first blog post about our upcoming wedding, we asked each other a few questions about how faith played a role in our dating experiences.
Have you ever dated someone who was of a different faith?
Sam had dated Jews and people who were not Jewish and it didn’t faze him one way or the other. He had even dated a Pastor’s daughter. I had only dated Christians before Sam, some more practicing than others.
Did your parents/family have any expectations of you finding a significant other within your faith?
Because Sam grew up in an interfaith household, there was minimal pressure on him dating outside his faith. Growing up, he expected to raise Jewish children; whereas my parents expect Catholic grandchildren. (Expect more on this topic in a future blog post.) Interfaith is brand new territory for my family. Growing up, my family’s circle of friends was from the private Catholic grade school and high school. I even went to a Catholic college, as did most of my siblings. I didn’t have many non-Catholic friends, until I went to a Mormon graduate school. Even then, my best friend was another Catholic.
When did your family realize/find out that your significant other wasn’t practicing the same religion?
For Sam this was a non-issue. It may have come up in casual conversation with his parents, but there wasn’t a specific time when his parents were shocked that I wasn’t Jewish. With me, it was quite different. In helping my mom prepare the Easter menu, I mentioned that I wanted to bring my boyfriend home and he had a few dietary restrictions. I offered to bring separate foods that were kosher for Passover, as to not put pressure on my family. We had only been dating for a few months, so I didn’t want to make it a big deal that he wasn’t Catholic. However, Mom told Dad, Dad told my brother Chris, who then told my sister Michelle, and shortly thereafter everyone in my family knew that Sam was Jewish.
The meal turned into my siblings asking Sam questions about Passover, his faith, and Judaism in general. Sam took this bombardment of questions like a champ! Sam joined us again for Easter this year and my family started embracing the kosher for Passover foods. My dear mom even experimented with matzah desserts! We said the grace before the meal and my Dad asked Sam to say his blessing, which he did in Hebrew. It was then, that my very conservative Catholic grandfather realized that Sam wasn’t Catholic. (Expect more on Sam’s relationship with my grandfather in a future blog post.)
Because you were dating someone of a different faith, did you have doubts about the relationship?
Sam didn’t have any doubts in being in an interfaith relationship because he saw his parents as role models. He had grown up practicing Judaism, but also experiencing major Christian holidays with his mom. My answer is not as simple. I did have doubts about overcoming the faith-related hurdles of our relationship. The more I would practice my own faith, the more I would struggle with our relationship. “How I could be with someone who didn’t believe in Jesus? How would we raise our children?”
Thankfully, my friends calmed my fears and gave me advice to take this relationship one step at a time, because if it was meant to be, we would figure it out. Fast forward two years and those questions aren’t as huge, not because I have found the answers, but because I have found someone to help me work toward the answers.
When did you realize that this interfaith relationship would last?
We both realized this around the same time. I had surgery last summer with a very long and painful recovery process. It was during this time that we realized the power of our relationship. Sam was incredible. He was at my bed side every day, helped me go through physical therapy, saw me at my worst, and gave me strength. It was also during this time that my family realized how committed Sam was to this relationship despite our different faiths.
As we approach our October 2014 wedding, we look forward to sharing more about our relationship in this blog. We hope that you will follow our journey and that our stories will help you explore your relationships.
Tell us about your interfaith relationship. Are there any similarities to ours?