We can’t catch a break
Me: Doctor, do you have any new information?
Sorry again for the radio silence. We’re back in the hospital. We can’t seem to catch a break.
We went to the hospital for something relatively routine but the next thing you know, we’re in the ER for the fifth time in as many months. 13 hours of tests later they say that they have to hold her overnight.
Then overnight turns into five days. And counting.
There’s something wrong with her – above and beyond what they already know is wrong with her. What’s scary is that they don’t know what’s wrong.
Don’t really have the right words to try and express how I feel. Somehow she keeps pushing forward; I don’t know how she does it. In many ways, I feel as if I’m following her lead.
Think that even the hospital feels some pity for us. The last time we were here, we were in a cramped shared room. This time, she got a private corner suite overlooking the same river. No rhyme or reason.
We’re certainly not complaining about the nice treatment, but we’re not really able to enjoy it in any meaningful way.
What we really want is answers and clarity. The two things we can’t seem to actually get.
And so we sit here in a sun-drenched corner room in the east side of town, yet completely in the dark.
Doctor: I’m sorry. We’re still trying to understand this.
Me: You’re no closer?
Doctor: (shakes head)
Location: A beautiful room that we’d rather not be in
Mood: indescribably worried
Music: I hear in my mind. All of this music and it breaks my heart
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