The look of love!
Sunday 4th January 2009
The pain in my fiancé's eyes was heartbreaking.
'What if I don't see the wedding?' he asked. 'What if I never see you in your dress?'
'It might not happen,' I insisted.
I was desperate to reassure him, but I was as scared as he was. Neither of us knew what the future had in store.
When Paul had proposed with a diamond cluster ring in March last year, just eight weeks after we'd met, I'd been over the moon.My daughter, Rebecca, 8, and I had moved into his house in Pwllheli, and we'd started to plan our big day. We'd decided to do it in a year or so, when we'd saved up.But in April, Paul had failed an eye test, and the optician had sent him
to Bangor Hospital for another test and an MRI scan.
The scan results had been sent to University College London's Institute of Neurology, then we'd been called down for a meeting.
'We want to operate,' the doctor there had said.
Paul and I had listened in horror as he'd explained what was wrong.
'Your optic nerve is stretched and damaging the signal between your eyes and your brain,' he'd said. 'We might be able to save your sight.'
'And if I don't have the operation?' Paul had asked.
'You could go blind,' he'd replied.
It was all so unfair. Ever since he'd slid the ring on my finger, I'd been looking forward to seeing Paul's face when I walked into the church. His eyesight had already started to deteriorate, so heaven only knows what he'd have left by the time we married in a year's time.
'We could bring the wedding forward,' I suggested now.
But we both knew that would mean sacrificing our dream day.
Then, Paul's mum, Linda Jones-Mann, phoned.
'I've entered you in a contest,' she said. 'You can win your wedding. The winner gets everything, from a dress, to cars and flowers.'
It was so sweet of her, but to be honest, weddings were the last thing on my mind. Until two weeks later, when a woman from the bridal shop that had organised the competition came to the house.
'You've been selected as finalists,' she said. 'We were really moved by Paul's story.'
Paul and I couldn't believe it.
Sadly, our excitement didn't last long because we had Paul's op to focus on. Back at the hospital in London, I waited in the corridor. Because the operation was on the optic nerve, there was a danger that when the surgeon operated, Paul could be left blind. An hour later, he was back on the ward.As soon as his eyes focused, his face lit up.
'I can still see,' he beamed.
Thank goodness.
The good news was that Paul still had his sight. But we had no way of knowing if the operation would stop him going blind in the future. So neither of us felt like throwing ourselves into planning our wedding when we had the shadow of that hanging over us. Thankfully, we didn't have to, because we were soon called to a grand gala at Carmarthen
Studios, where the competition winner was announced. I held Paul's hand and my breath as the opera singer Bryn Terfel opened the gold envelope.
'The winners are Paul and Angela,' he said.
Everyone started clapping and Paul and I rushed onto the stage.
'Thank you,' I grinned. 'You don't know how much this means to us.'
After worrying about Paul's eyesight for so long, now we had something to look forward to.
We picked white lilies, classic cars to take us both to St Peter's Church, and claret-coloured
dresses for my bridesmaids, my friend, Cheryl, and Paul's sisters, Hayley and Hannah. All that was left was my dress. As soon as I put on the gorgeous champagne floor-length dress
with beaded lace panels, I knew it was the one.
'Paul will love it,' I smiled.
And on 5 November, as I walked down the aisle, I'll never forget the look on his face when he saw me.We exchanged our vows, and then, Paul looked at me, his eyes filled with tears.
'I'll never forget how beautiful you look right now,' he whispered.
Later, friends and family joined us at St George's hotel in Llandudno for a meal, and, that night, we stayed in the honeymoon suite. We don't know what will happen with Paul's sight.
But if the worst does happen, at least he has the memories of the happiest day of our lives.