The story of Mrs. T and me—in a hundred words

I’ve been following with interest a series of pieces that the New York Times describes as “Modern Love in miniature, featuring reader-submitted stories of no more than 100 words.” As my beloved Mrs. T urgently awaits a fresh pair of lungs at New York-Presbyterian Hospital, I thought I’d try to sum up the wildly improbable but nonetheless true story of our courtship and marriage in one hundred carefully chosen words.

For those who read this posting the other day without knowing anything about us, here is the miracle (no lesser word is strong enough) that happened to Mrs. T and me a decade and a half ago:

We met at a dinner party and fell in love at first sight. Then I learned that she had an incurable disease with a life expectancy of two years. Then I was stricken with congestive heart failure mere days before what was supposed to be our first date. I called her from the emergency room to break the date. Unfazed, she came to the hospital. We’ve been together ever since. Instead of dying on schedule, she fooled the doctors and lived. Now she needs a life-saving double lung transplant—and we’re counting on our luck to hold one more time.

Oh, yes, one more thing—we were both forty-nine years old at the time. Let that be a lesson to you!