she wrote “cold” on her little white board.

i covered her with a third thick blanket after i turned up the room temperature to 70 degrees.

trying to keep her warm, i tucked the blanket underneath her shoulders, but she mouthed “no”, nonverbally saying that it will suffocate her little stuffed dog.

she took the white board again, and wrote: “my husband gave this dog”. then she pointed to the guy in the picture. he was wearing a white shirt, she was wearing a white dress, and what looked like a black belt, was actually part of the wheelchair, to keep her from falling off. it was their wedding picture, he was kneeling beside her wheelchair, grinning. she was the perfect picture of a blushing, ecstatic bride.

i stared at the guy in the picture. the day RN was not exagerrating when she told me that the patient’s husband was handsome. i picked up the picture and agreed that he could easily pass as a hollywood star if looks is all that matters.

then i looked at my patient again, who was embracing the little stuffed dog with her left hand, while writing.

“i miss him”, she wrote.

W is disabled. she cannot walk. her legs are short, and the left was amputated below the knee a few years ago. at 26, she looks like 36, weighing about 200 pounds, breathing through a tracheostomy tube, eating through a nasogastric tube, urinating through a catheter. i’m not sure if all these are complications of her spina bifida, but to say the least, she is a LOT of work. even though she just had the trach a few weeks ago, and that she was able to feed herself a few weeks ago, it is still very obvious that to take care of her takes a lot of sweat, not to mention patience and dedication.

Me: you two look great. and your husband looks very young. how old is he?

W: 24.

Me: how long have you been married?

W: one month.

Me: oh, you’re still on your honeymoon basically…

W: i miss him.

Me: is he coming tomorrow?

W: no, on sunday.

Me: well, at least that’s like 48 hours from now. is he at work today?

W: no, no work.

Me: oh, is he in school?

W: no, just at home.

Me: he takes care of you…

W: my parents take care of me.

Me: oh, you both live with your parents…

W: no, i have my own house, but my parents live a block away..

Me: well, i’ll leave you to rest…

W: i miss him. he gave me those flowers.

Me: they’re pretty…

i had to leave the room. my mind was filled with unhappy thoughts.

preoccupied with her own happy thoughts, unable to wipe the smile off her face, W looked relieved to be left alone.

i was charting, but the wedding picture, and the supposed love story haunted me.

why can’t i just conclude and accept that W met the man who truly looks beyond the physical, and loves in the real sense of the word? that he is so in love with her, he doesn’t care that she is paralyzed from the waist down? so what if he needs to feed her, bathe her, carry her, till death do them part? why can’t i just accept the thought that though it is not common, things like these happen? a handsome young guy falls in love with an overweight, disabled woman; no what ifs, no questions asked.

why do i have to be so cynical?

why do i think he has a hidden agenda? why do i think he is after her disability money and her house? and i can’t shake the thought that a few months or years from now, he will surely get sick and tired of caring for her, he will have an affair…

why do i think he is a full blown jerk who will just hurt W and break her heart to untraceable pieces?

is it because i am depressed that i am thinking depressing thoughts?

can i put the blame on depressing events around me?

i am ashamed of my utter disbelief in true love…

i am horrified at the cynicism i so easily embraced.