41 YEARS AGO
“I, David, take thee, Linda, to be my wedded wife…”
I can’t wait to hear those words, but I’ve got a few more hours to go. It was just after noon as I finished dictating the last Upper GI exam, pulled down the films and shoved them into the x-ray folder. After scribbling the results on the jacket, I signed my name, pausing for a second. Should I keep the name Olson, or should I take Dave’s name and become Hodgens?
I giggled to myself as I skipped down the hall to Dr. Danny Kim’s office, poking my head in just long enough to say, “I’m outta’ here. Thanks for covering the rest of the afternoon for me. I’ll see you on Monday.” He was the only person who knew I was leaving early that Friday so I could get to the Balboa Naval Medical Center in San Diego by 4 o’clock.
Out the back entrance of the hospital and across the asphalt parking lot I ran, skipping up the stairs two at a time, reaching my apartment out of breath. What was I going to wear? Not that there was much of a choice. The beige knit dress with white trimmed collar and cuffs would have to do. I threw jeans and some tee shirts in a bag and ran back downstairs to my trusty, but ugly, little blue and white Dodge Colt. Two hours later I pulled into the vacant parking lot at the Navy Hospital Chapel.
Whew! Just the way I wanted it…nobody there…and a few minutes to spare. I was primping in the rear-view mirror when I saw Dave hurrying across the parking lot in his Navy Summer Whites uniform—white hat, white shoes, white socks, white pants and white shirt with his Lieutenant insignia. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was the bride.
Later he tells me he was scared spitless that I wouldn’t show up. Why, I don’t know. I’d been wanting to catch him for a few years now, almost since the day we’d started medical school.
We held hands and walked in together for the last counseling session with the Navy Chaplain. After an interminable hour, he led us into the empty Chapel where we stood in front of him as he intoned the familiar words of the marriage ceremony.
“To have and to hold…” Dave’s arm tightened around me. He later tells people that this was the point where I attempted to run out to my car to get the $99 gold wedding band I’d bought for myself. And that a few sentences later, I tried to bolt to get my camera out of the car. “Hold still, Olsie. Let’s get this over with. Besides, who’s going to take pictures? There’s no one here!” Dave says I was nervous…whatever…
“From this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer…” What a high I was on. Five days shy of my twenty-eighth birthday and a bright future ahead of us. In the four and a half years since we met, we’d become inseparable—yet remained independent.
“To love and to cherish” seemed easy enough as we continued our residencies, Dave in San Diego and me in Los Angeles.
But 668 days later, “in sickness and in health,” smashed into us on a railroad track in Germany. Assuming he would die, Dave ran the fastest run of his life—directly into the path of an oncoming train, attempting to pull me off the track where I’d fallen while getting out of the stalled van. Within seconds, my legs and right arm were severed from my body.
“Till death do us part” was no longer a vague, mumbled phrase near the conclusion of marriage vows. Having cheated death, we now faced a life that looked nothing like we’d planned. Less than two years of able-bodied marriage might now be fifty or sixty years of a caretaker relationship.
Were the promises we made still valid? Or were they binding only if I looked the same way I did on our wedding day?
Dave was young. He could have said, “Sayonara…auf wiedersehen…au revoir…adios.”
Or maybe, “This isn’t what I bargained for.” Or, “I can‘t stand looking at you anymore.” Or, “It’s going to be too much work.”
Instead, without hesitation he said, “I didn‘t marry your arms and your legs. If you can do it, I can do it.” And he has done just that.
For 41 years Dave has lived our wedding vows. I am grateful from the bottom of my heart.
You and your story brings tears to my eyes.
We’ve been lucky to share our lives with you and Lee for such a long time.
Lovely post. Soulful writing.
Love your messages. Tears came to my eyes at the end of this.
The love and courage you have is remarkable and an inspiration to everyone. You and Dave have accomplished so much since your accident.
Thanks Bobbie. It’s what Hodgens’ people do, isn’t it!
Linda
You and Dave are so often an inspiration to me. Thank you for sharing your wonderful story.
Happy anniversary, Linda and Dave!
Your humanity is matched by your husband’s. There was never a time, working with you, when your presence did not bring a feeling of comfort, gratitude and enthusiasm.
You both teach the real value of love being tangible. In work and in life you continue to lift us up. Thank you.
Thanks, Nancy
like all of these people, I was touched by your story, teary eyes at the end too – and you are terrific at story telling by the way – yours is a relationship built on love, trust and respect – so rare these days…. it is an honour to have met you both – even for just an hour in such a special place (Cradle Mountain) – I have lived an exceptional life, travelled much and achieved much and meeting you made it even more special – thank you…..
I agree Estelle, chance meetings with people like you are one of the treats when we travel.
Happy Anniversary and May God continue to bless you!
I never get tired of reading about your amazing journey.
What an inspiration!
Thank you for sharing your life story.
You never fail to inspire!
I lost count long ago of the number of people to whom I’ve told your inspirational story. You two set an example for us all.
Thanks, Elizabeth, for your kind words.
An inspiration – that’s what Dave and you are. Hope to make it to California soon with my children and show them the wonderful woman who trained me in Breast Imaging!
I would love to meet them…and of course see you again!
Linda, What can I say…I have always truly admired your & Dave’s tenacity, selflessness, bravery, being so grounded and not letting your trials and tribulations get the better of you. You are always in my mind and heart with great admiration–you are my gold standard. You both have raised an incredible family, have reality in check, and have beat the odds because you are strong and know what is of substance. You do not get misled by the superficial things in life. I know it hasn’t been easy (even though I don’t really know)–but you make it look doable for others. So impressed you are sharing your story with the world…I know it will help others to put hard times in perspective and attempt to carry on. Love you!
Happy Anniversary. You are a joy and inspiration to all who know you both.
Linda, you are: My hero. My friend. My fellow Walker comrade. And my most admired person. At each hurdle, you said to yourself: “You go girl” and you did. Thank you for your smiles, greetings, invitations, and cheerfulness. I am ever grateful to Dave for helping out when I had my “FOOSH” (Fell On Outstretched Hand”. One never knows when a new person crosses your path, how the path can change. Thank you.
Beautiful. You are my inspiration. You are incredible Linda, truly incredible. I am so thankful that you have come in to my life via the also incredible Marcia. I love hearing what you have to say. I love how you open your heart and soul and share…raw to the bone. So excited to be working on another journey for you.
I knew this story, but somehow reading about it brought tears to my eyes. It’s a wonderful story and should be picked up by women’s magazines especially the part where he says, “I didn’t marry your arms and legs If you can do it, I can do it.” Linda. you have made many things possible for me. Thanks for being you. And thanks to your husband for being him. Have a wonderful anniversary!
congratulations to you both.
Your writing-another reminder of what an inspirational couple you two are. Happy anniversary!
I never tire of reading your posts.
Thank you for allowing us to share in your thoughts and your life.