This translation has been automatically generated and has not been verified for accuracy.On Thursday nights, when I was supposed to be learning shorthand to become a better journalist, the boy who would become my husband came to my dorm room to play cribbage with me.
It was a moment of singular clarity. Unconscious feelings suddenly revealed. All that time, I thought we had just been playing. Turns out, I had skin in the game. Cribbage got us through his nine weeks in hospital, three surgeries and endless waiting for doctors and tests. It filled the gaps between meals, naps and occasional visits from friends. It raised our spirits when they were flagging and gave us something to talk about other than scopes and scans, infections and clots and worrisome blood results.
I played many games with my dad too!
Was my dads most favourite game. He often said, 'We'll get through this...' and we always did.
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