Begin Again

With the kids launched, John and I were ready to start the second act of our life together. But we didn't realize how much we'd grown apart

- MARCI SEITHER

At the end of June 2022, a few days before he was scheduled to have his right knee replaced, my husband went in for pre-op bloodwork. We’d been through this routine when John had his left knee replaced the year before. This time, we got a call from his doctor’s office. The nurse practitioner wanted to meet with us.

“John, we can’t clear you for surgery,” she said. “You have diabetes.”

John and I looked at each other, stunned. Sure, he had become more sedentary lately because of knee pain and been told he would need to lose some weight, but he’d always been the picture of health otherwise.

“You can retest in three months,” the nurse practitioner said. “We’ll start you on medication, but to get your glucose numbers down, you need to make some lifestyle changes.”

We went straight to a gym and both signed up.

As soon as we got home, John called his boss. He worked for a company that pumped concrete for construction projects. His job required a lot of heavy lifting, climbing and walking on rebar. Hard on the knees.

John told his boss about delaying his return for at least three months. “If I need to come back to do other work, I can,” he said. “I just can’t run a concrete pump.”

I prayed that his boss would be understanding.

I had wondered if moving from California, where we’d lived most of our marriage, to Tennessee had been a mistake. We’d pulled up stakes a year and a half earlier. This was supposed to be a chance for John and me to start the second act of our life together. I’d thought as empty nesters we could have a more laid-back lifestyle, more time for the two of us.