It was terminal, the doctor said. Incurable.
But she was my wife, and I wasn’t the type who blindly accepted fate. If I could save her, I would.
So everything else went on hold as I devoted my intellect single-mindedly to medical research.
I would’ve liked to’ve spent more time comforting her as her health worsened, but the sacrifice would be worthwhile were I to find a cure. Which, in time, I did.
A man in love can accomplish anything.
She’d been dead nearly two decades by that point, of course. But still, finding the cure was sort of cathartic…