Is the doctor in?

My name is Eboni Armour.  I am not a doctor.  It may seem arrogant or presumptuous of me to attempt to post a blog about health issues without a postgraduate degree of any kind.  For that reason, my first column will be an introduction of the blogger as well as a listing of her credentials.

            On August 23,1992, I was a college student in Missouri.  I was working at a store in a mall.  One day, I took a break to buy a newspaper and mail a letter.  I went to a bookstore across from my job to get my newspaper.  When I arrived, however, there was a man yawning, with his head back and arms outstretched, in front of my newspaper.

            Since my parents raised me right, I waited for this gentleman to finish yawning.  He closed his mouth, put his arms down, and turned to look at me.  I said, "Well, I figured I'd wait so you couldn't bop me on the head."  He stepped aside so I could get my paper.  I walked to the cash register, paid for my paper, and walked out of the mall to mail my letter.  I turned from the mailbox to find the man from the bookstore.  I didn't realize it at the time, but I was looking at my future husband.

            My new friend introduced himself and asked for my telephone number.  We walked back into the mall and I gave him my number. He called me later that evening. We found out that we liked the same things.  We shared the same beliefs. He met my parents before we had our first date.  

            We spent time with each other's families.  We attended church services together.  We talked or saw each other every day.  After we had been dating for about three months, my boyfriend invited me to his mother's house for the afternoon.  He had asked if he could use her kitchen to show me how to make peach cobbler.  As we rolled out pastry crust, I told him that I loved him for the first time.  He responded in a way that I didn't expect. 

            He got very quiet and told me that he loved me too.  He then said that he hoped I could be trusted with his heart because he didn't want to be hurt.  I assured him that I wouldn't.  He then hugged me tight and gave me one of those electric kisses I loved so much.

            A few weeks later, we were walking around the mall where I worked.  We were sort of killing time until my shift started at work.  I asked him how long ago his last relationship had been.  He said it had been a few years.  He told me that he wanted to tell me something, but that he was worried about my reaction.   He thought I might break up with him after our conversation.  I reassured him that he could tell me anything.  We had already proclaimed our love for each other.  I was certain that he had nothing to worry about.

            We found a quiet place to talk.  We sat down making sure that we'd be able to see if anyone walked toward us.  He avoided my eye contact and told me he hadn't had a girlfriend because he had been sick.  My mind started racing.  The only illness I could think of that would be hard to discuss was HIV.    But, we had already talked about that since we both knew people with that diagnosis.   I couldn't imagine anything worse than that. 

            My first real boyfriend looked at me and said, "I have an disease called Bipolar Disorder."  I had never heard that phrase before. I told him so.  I asked questions to see if he could explain it to me.  He struggled to find the words to answer me.  I appreciated his honesty.  I can't say that I remember anything he said.

            I remember the way his face looked when he told me.  I remember how buttery warm his brown eyes looked when they met mine again.  I didn't know anything about this 'illness' he seemed so worried about.  I really didn't care.  It didn't scare me.  I wasn't concerned about anything other than my boyfriend.  I was only concerned that this man, who meant so much to me, understood that his heart was safe.

            I think that's enough for our first visit.  Whether or not you have ever experienced a situation like this one, I'd like to finish introducing myself.  Shall me meet again at the same time next week?  I promise I'll make everything clear then.