My swine flu groom
Thursday 26th November 2009
It was one of those moments every girl dreams of. One minute, my boyfriend, Steven, and I were tucking into a slap-up Italian meal and the next, he just came out with it. 'Will you marry me?' he'd asked. Slap! I dropped a meatball in shock. 'Yes!' I'd screamed faster than you can say 'profiterole'. 'You know we're going on holiday to Las Vegas this summer?'
Steven, 26, went on. 'Well, we can get married there. Your mum and mine have agreed to come.' 'You have been busy,' I laughed. But I wasn't put out that he'd planned our wedding without me. Steven knew I didn't fancy the fuss of a traditional big white do, and this sounded perfect.
Even so, I didn't want our mates to miss out altogether, so we agreed that when we got back from Vegas, we'd have a big reception and I'd get to wear my wedding dress all over again! It was May 2009, and sales manager Steven and I had been together since meeting in holiday in Crete in 2006. Now I didn't waste any time booking the reception at the posh Parklands Country Club just outside Glasgow.
We sent out invites to 100 friends and family, I splashed out on a £700 white satin strapless
dress and ticked off the days in my diary. On 8 August, with a tummy full of butterflies, we flew to Vegas. And on 12 August, in front of seven of our close family and friends, Steven and I exchanged our vows by the swimming pool of our hotel, the super plush MGM Grand.
Then I slipped off my dress and Steven ditched his smart grey suit, and we all hit the pool for some big cocktails and celebrations.
'This is the best wedding day ever,' I smiled, laying back in my white bikini and sipping a Cosmopolitan. Three days later, we flew back to the UK, but with our reception to look forward to in just a week's time, there were no post-wedding blues for us. Just the prospect of a great big party !Over the next few days though, my new hubby started complaining of a sore throat and high temperature.
'Poor you,' I soothed, fetching paracetamol. 'You must've caught cold somewhere along the line.' Man flu, I thought, but I kept that to myself.m'Yeah, I feel rubbish,' he croaked, shivering. 'Hope I'm better for the party.' But on the morning of our wedding reception, Steven woke up worse than ever. His tanned face had turned pale and his body shook with hacking coughs.
I got on the phone to NHS Direct, who told me to take him to Glasgow Western General Hospital. As I drove there, Steven lay groaning in the back seat. Hell. What dreadful timing. We had 100 guests arriving in a few hours. 'It might be swine flu,' the doctor in A&E said. I gaped at him in disbelief. 'We'll run some tests now, then decide whether to keep him in or not.'
We exchanged shocked glances. Swine flu? Sure, I'd read about it in the papers, but I never thought it would affect us. 'You go and get ready for the reception, and I'll ring you as soon as the test results are back,' Steven smiled weakly. So, reluctantly, I kissed him goodbye, went to pick up a guest book and our six-tier stand of wedding cupcakes and prayed he'd be alright.Later that afternoon, my mobile went.
Steven. 'It is swine flu, love,' Steven said. 'They won't let me go to the reception, but you go without me.' What on earth? 'No way! I just want to be with you,' I said. 'And I can't go to our wedding reception on my own!' But Steven was adamant. 'It's too late to cancel,' he said. 'Please go, and try to have fun.' Reluctantly, I agreed, but as I half-heartedly curled my hair and put on my mascara, misery washed over me. 'People die from swine flu,' I cried to my sister, Jessica, 13. 'And whoever's seen a bride with no groom at her wedding reception?' But moaning about it wasn't going to change the situation.
I was going it alone. Steven mum's, Karen Rinaldi, drove me to the country club, and I changed into the white gown I'd worn in Vegas. This time, though, I was filled with dread instead of excitement. As our 100 guests trickled in, I took a deep breath and smiled. Luckily, word had spread about Steven's absence, so I didn't have to explain over and over. Desperate to be with him, I went through the motions, nibbled chicken skewers from the buffet, chatted with long-lost relatives, and posed for pics all alone by our cakes. Poor Steve. I was knocking back champagne, and he was suffering.But by the time our song came on, I realised something.
I could spend the evening with a face like a wet weekend or I could party. As Al Green's Let's Stay Together rang out, I grabbed my best mate, Nikki Rose, 23. 'You're coming with me,' I said, dragging her to the dance floor. She barely had time to put down her sausage roll, before I'd dragged her centre stage. As we swayed round the dance floor, the crowd went wild. After that, the party really kicked off.'He'd have loved this,' said Steven's best man, Brian Lewis, 31, as he led a conga line. Finally, at midnight, I decided it was time to go. And how did I spend my wedding night? On my tod with a cup of cocoa. ,The next morning,
I dashed to hospital, laden with magazines and PJs.
Steven was weak and waxy and, as I told him about the party, his eyes clouded with tears. 'The best man's speech was lovely,' I said. 'Brian did a great job.' 'Can't believe I missed it,' he groaned. Five days later, Steven was discharged and two months on, he's completely better. To make up for missing the party, we're planning another bash to mark our first anniversary. And this time, here's hoping I won't have a groom with a flu!
Steven says: 'Talk about bad luck. While everyone was enjoying the good food and wine, I was stuck on a ward full of swine flu sufferers, wearing a hospital gown. The only thing I got to knock back was Tamiflu.'