Mark and I aren’t legally married. We have rings, we call each other husband and wife. The legal part just never happened. “Maybe we should get married because of the cold hard facts,” I said to Mark this afternoon. This was after I told him that I talked to Social Security today, and his kids will not get any additional money because they are already get money from their mom having died. SS gives the kids the higher amount from the two parents. Because Mark will also be collecting on Social Security disability, the amount the kids would get due to his situation ends up actually being less than that amount they currently collect because their mom died. Even though she died after working many less years than Mark. Overall, financially, it would make sense to get married. “Cold hard socks?” he said back. I was sitting right next to him on the couch. Over the course of the past week, Mark has lost much of his hearing. Side effect of the chemo, most likely. We haven’t even gotten to the radiation side effects yet. “FACTS,” I said a bit louder. “Sacks?” he tried again. “FACTS! COLD HARD FACTS!” I repeated loudly. “About your pants?” In his defense, I was wearing some pretty ridiculous pants today. It’s a side effect of Mark’s cancer that I’ve become strangely attached to shopping online for pants that I can only describe as “clown pants.” They make me happy. He recommended last night that I not wear them to work. I did anyway. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT WE ARE TALKING ABOUT?” I yelled. “No,” he said. “MARRIAGE. I’M TALKING ABOUT MARRIAGE.” With a little shrug and a chuckle, we both gave up. We were definitely talking about marriage. Like married people. Ever onward, Diane