That anniversary one year...

 It was my birthday recently, and my husband had the audacity to get sick with a fever. A laid back, hang out with my husband and kids birthday was exactly my style this year, anyway, so I didn't mind much. But it reminded us of our first year living in India.

We'd only been living there a couple of months when our wedding anniversary was approaching. As a treat, I coordinated with friends to have their teenagers babysit our then four young boys while J and I went on a date. I planned everything out, what movie we'd see in the cinema, everything.

The day of our anniversary came, and J had a stomach bug so bad (Delhi belly is a stereotype for a reason!) that we had to cancel our plans. Not only that, but he got so dehydrated from illness in the heat of August that he almost passed out.

I had canceled the babysitters already, and our house helper had the day off since we had planned to be gone. I considered my options. The nearest hospital was not too far, but our apartment was in the middle of an area dense with people, animals, narrow path roads and buildings. To even get an auto rickshaw out of the neighborhood, we had to walk at least five minutes -- there was no way he could walk that far and I wasn't sure I could keep him upright in the auto even if he could. I certainly couldn't carry him, and I was fairly sure an ambulance (if I had known how to summon one) would have gotten lost or stuck trying to get to us.

Thankfully, we knew a woman in our neighborhood who was formerly an ER nurse. We called her and she came, checked on him, and sent me out for supplies for an IV bag from the pharmacy down the alley. We didn't have our own IV bag apparatus so she made due by hanging the bag carefully from a hanger in our closet near the bed. It took almost three IV bags before he finally started feeling better.

Instead of a romantic date, that anniversary is the one we remember when I learned how to change an IV bag in my husband's arm.